I know Americans and Australians who were the right age to be called up in the 60s for the Vietnam war. And when I was a kid, we had to go to school in military uniform every Monday, and march around a parade ground for hours. We were told that if there was ever a war, we would be called up first.
From my large collection of
embarrassing photos.
Beat that Keda if you can!
Then as we grew older, people of my generation began looking forward to one of the perks of age - the right to wave off the next generation of young cannon fodder, and thank them for their sacrifice.
So I think it's bloody unfair that, just as I have finally become too decrepit to ever fight for my country, the whole deal has changed.
For one thing, the military would collapse if it had to call up people of fighting age - they're all too fat or surly or drug-ridden. Or they're too busy harming themselves to ever harm an enemy.
Also, the whole nature of war has changed, and we're all collateral damage now. Whose idea was that? I didn't agree to it. Bang (literally) goes my cosy retirement. What a swindle!
Next month I'll be taking a 23-hour flight to the old country via Heathrow, but my enjoyment of the in-flight movie might be spoiled by the thought that at any moment the plane could disintegrate. I may suddenly find myself gasping in the stratosphere at minus 50°, hurtling into the ocean, or plummeting towards Afghanistan. If I'm lucky, I may still be strapped to my seat. At least that should help absorb the impact.
To distract myself, I may have to take advantage of the 23 hours of free booze. What a fortunate creature I'll be!
