On a recent trip to Ireland I was in the town where my grandfather Henry Irwin grew up, and a little in advance of the 100 year anniversary of 1914 which we will have next year I was reflecting as I sipped my coffee and looked out on the broad street, how exactly 100 years ago he would have been blithely living his life, seeing friends, playing cricket and football, unaware of what awaited. I remember him as the most genial and tolerant of men, I can think of no more unsuitable person to be sent out to kill his fellow man in the fields of France. A decent man sent to do an indecent job.
Posted on: Sun, 20 Oct 2013 18:51:58 +0000
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