The Great Generation

On the 11th November each year, we remember the fallen of all wars, veterans that have served and continue to serve. This date was set to recall the date of the end of World War 1, so at this time I particularly remember my great-grandfather, Hilton Brown, who fought in that war. World War 1 was the most deadly ever fought up to that time, but those who fought it were just ordinary people, often just teenagers, as was Hilton; 17 years old when he joined and was caught up in the most desperate and bloody struggle for survival. The fact that he, like so many others, could come out of those experiences as decent, honourable men is a very special testimony to the humanity that lies at the heart of all.

There were so many occasions when he could have been killed, when friends next to him died or were fatally wounded; at times it was simply the random allocation to his company or battalion that saved him, at others, death was just an arm’s length away; depending on his place in a line, whether he was standing or crouching, stuck in the mud or able to move.

With his battalion he fought in two of the most dangerous places on Earth, Gallipoli in Turkey and the trenches of the Western Front in France, and yet he survived when twenty million did not. All in my family owe their very existence to those many chances of fate, those near misses and the random favours of war. Hilton, like many of his comrades, was just a teenager, expected to fight, kill and survive in appalling circumstances.

He was born in 1897 in what now seems a different age. In that year Thomas Edison patented his movie camera, and the first submarine with an internal combustion engine sailed. He was six years old when the Wright brothers flew their first plane at Kitty Hawk, he was nine when the first radio broadcast of music was made, the first commercial TV broadcast was made when he was thirty-two. Before he died, in 1983, he had finally seen women get the vote, watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, witnessed the computer revolution, saw Concorde reach New York in six hours, saw the birth of the atomic age, lived through two world wars and looked on with hope at the rise of the peace movements. I would like to think his remarkable generation was responsible for more fundamental, global changes during their lifetimes than any other generation in history.

Today, we need to become another great generation, remembered by our children and their children with wonder in the same way we should remember Hilton’s. We need to remember the past, draw inspiration from it and rise up to be what they fought for, to be what they became. When I think today of the challenges facing the world; climate change, social division, disease and seemingly intractable poverty, inequality and prejudice, I remember how my great-grandfather lived through fears that are even today unimaginable, how his generation discovered wonders and conquered horrors, including those of the evils of fascism. How their trials in inhumanity showed them what it is to be human, caring and compassionate. How they conquered nightmares, replacing them with dreams, raised families and moved the world towards a deeper understanding of our shared truths. They were, indeed, a great generation.

I met him only a few times before he passed, but my memory is of a quiet man that tried to look strict but was actually very kind, a man with an inner strength that seemed able to meet any problem with dignity and confidence. A man who understood family and doing the right thing.