Back in 1941, even though the air-raid alarm had sounded my father and his father left home together, to go to work in Vickers (guns) on the night shift, the bombs started to fall, a land mine land exploded across the road from were they were waiting for a lull in the bombs, grandfather was killed instantly and my father went to hospital for stitches in his thigh and back. He was back at work the very next night. Both men made a sacrifice, as did many others out of uniform, for the country, yet the organisation I will not mention doesn’t seem to think them worthy of remembrance.* not even allowing civilian deaths to be recorded on war memorials.
That is why I won’t wear a red poppy, among other reasons like for instance perpetuating the “lions led by donkeys” myth and the glorifying war that seems to be creeping in more and more.
Want to argue? Take it up with the rack of medals I will be wearing, including the spray of oak leaves on the ribbon of one.
*Or didn’t at least until fairly recently, can’t bring myself to look at their website.