Day: November 11, 2019

I know in the United States, November 11 has been Veteran’s Day for decades now. But for my part, I always prefer to remember Armistice Day instead. The day the guns fell silent in France and ended the greatest war the world had ever known to that point. Because it’s important to remember.

The First World War – or the Great War – has always had a special fascination for me. I think the war is largely overlooked, especially in the United States – maybe only rivaled by the Korean War in its absence from the public consciousness. We remember far more readily the more Iliadic Second World War, or the tragic Vietnam War. The First World War is usually remembered only as a prologue to its second, more terrible cousin.

I guess that makes sense. Who isn’t drawn to a heroic narrative? The Second World War features good and evil at its most stark in all of human history. The Nazis are tailor-made (literally, in those Hugo Boss uniforms…) for the big stage, with wonderful staging and theatrics. The scale of the war draws us in, from the fields of Belgium and northern France to frozen Norwegian fjords. From the sandy deserts of North Africa to the boreal Baltic forests, the sun-blasted ruins of Crete and Sicily to the deepest Russian steppe. The urban hellscape of Stalingrad, the malarial jungles of New Guinea, the fields of China, the cold wastes of the North Atlantic, or the glimmering sun-lit Central Pacific – there is nothing like World War 2.

But, at the same time, World War 2 is ultimately a heroic epic. The murderous, grasping slave empires of Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan are wonderful villains, but they are unambiguously that: villains.

The First World War is not so simple, and that is why I think it is worth remembering.

The thing that always struck me about the First World War is that there are no bad guys. Sure, the United States fought against the German and Austro-Hungarian Empires, but we didn’t hate them. There is no unprovoked invasion of defenseless states here, and of course, no Holocaust. Indeed, many of the Holocausts’ victims fought bravely for the Reich in this war.

No, this war is German farmers and shopkeepers struggling to their utmost with British and French farmers and shopkeepers, not out of any special hatred, but for the rivalries of kings and empires.

And that is the exquisite tragedy of the FIrst World War.

Both sides are humans. Both sides shared practically the same culture. They shared the same history, worshiped the same God, even shared the same songs. One of my favorite stories in all of the wide sweep of history is the Christmas Truce of 1914.

Christmas Eve, 4 months into the war that was supposed to be over by Christmas and would drag on for 4 more bloody years. The Germans and the Allies are dug in across from each other in the longest siege line in history – hundreds of miles from the Swiss Alps across France to the Sea. The trenches are close enough for shouted conversations.

Or for shared music.

No one quite remembers how it begins, but one side starts singing Christmas carols. O Come All Ye Faithful, Silent Night – little matter. And, not to be outdone, the other side joins in. And for a while – only a little while – the war of bullets ceases and is replaced by a gentler war of music…and then even that, too, fades away and is replaced by music in harmony. Germans and British and French, singing together.

And for the first – and last- time in human history, instead of war, peace breaks out, up and down the line. Christmas Day and men from all sides are out of their trenches, mingling between the lines, swapping souvenirs and stories, taking photos, introducing themselves, playing soccer (reports say the British won), and just being human together.

Brothers.

If you can spare the time this Armistice Day, this dramatization from the film Joyeaux Noel does a good job depicting it:

There was not one Christmas truce. There many. Dozens. Right up and down the line, from Switzerland all the way to the Atlantic ocean. The farmers and shopkeepers of Europe for one day put down their weapons, forgot the rivalries of their kings and empires, and embraced each other as fellow Christians. And for a moment – one, brief, shining moment – the war stopped.

And you could almost think, maybe this is it. Maybe the killing ends here. We go home, forget about the stupid Archduke, and get on with our lives. Love our families, grow old, and maybe one day tell our grandchildren about those 4 months back in ’14 when Europe took itself right up to the brink…before Christmas.

But no. It doesn’t work like that. In the end, the kings and their generals will have their way. And the war goes on.

Lots of people, I think, don’t really understand tragedy. They think tragedy is conflict between good and evil, like any other story. Tragedy is just when the bad guy wins. But that’s not it.

Tragedy is when good and good come into conflict. Neither side is evil. Neither deserves to be destroyed. But one must be. One must win – and the other must lose. And in their struggle they must both destroy. In true tragedy, no one wins – by the very nature of the conflict, no one could ever win.

The First World War is one of the most perfect tragedies in history.

Neither side – German nor Allied – deserves to be destroyed. But the world has driven them into conflict, and now one of them must be. And because of that, millions of innocent human beings – millions of husbands, brothers, and sons – will die in the mud-choked fields of northern France.

When I was younger, I used to always prefer comedies or histories to tragedy. Tragedy was too sad. Now, though, I find myself appreciating it more and more. There’s a kind of heart-wrenching, exquisite beauty that is unique to tragedy alone. What’s more, we learn from tragedy more than from anything else.

Learn from the First World War. History is not a matter of good guys versus bad guys. It’s regular people – just like you and me. People who just want a decent life for themselves and for their families. And if you allow it, circumstances can force you to make war on them, and to do your utmost to destroy them, lest they do the same to you.

Don’t allow it. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking “if we just side with the good guys and fight the bad guys, all will be well.” The world is not so simple as World War 2 would have us believe.

Instead, remember the FIrst World War. And remember the Armistice that ended it – because it must never, ever happen again. Remember the millions of good men who were once thrown onto the pyre and consumed, because History demanded it. And learn from that.

That’s why I remember Armistice Day.

First, I am still alive.

Second, so is my Korean blog.

When I originally came, I had vague ambitions of writing every day. After all, I’d be lonely, and have lots of evenings to myself, and lots of new experiences, so surely that’d be easy?

At the same time, I always acknowledged that I am, well, lazy and irresponsible, so a weekly update schedule was more likely. But now even that is threatened! I’m actually writing this during a break at work – I have 90% of my lessons planned through the end of December, so I feel I can allow myself this time.

It’s not that I’ve had a shortage of material to write about. I’ve gone to Busan, auditioned for a play, climbed Mudeungsan (different part), met more people, had mroe adventures. That’s not the issue.

No, it’s more that I am way more busy than I anticipated. Life comes at you fast. Instead of spending evenings lonely with nothing to do but write, I find myself trying to juggle a schedule and meet a host of conflicting demands.

Let me catch y’all up – is anyone even still reading? Whatever, I don’t care, I love the sound of my own voice (“You’re not even talking, Brad.” Shut up). Quick hits and a to-do list:

• I went to Busan with Tom, Maria, Lily, and Erica. I took many pictures – they are on Facebook. I’ll try to do a full trip writeup here. We saw many things. Had a wonderful dinner. Tom and Maria are falling in love. Good times.
• I had to hurry back from Busan because I was auditioning for a play here in Gwangju. This is something that’s been on my bucket list for more than ten years, it deserves a full entry.
• I climbed Mudeungsan. On the bus out there, I met Kim Seung-Il, a middle-aged man who sat next to me. He wanted to practice his English because he is taking his family on a vacation to Guam this week and he’s never been to an English-speaking country before. He was nervous and wanted to make sure he’d be able to get around okay and take care of his family.
• On the mountain, I met Kim Cheong-wan. Cheongwan…I’ll give him a full post. He’s a delightful human being and I’m glad to have met him.
• My bank and I have battled on some things as I try to settle into life here. That’s probably worth a post.
• I’ve been working on a very lengthy – well, it’s not even a blog post anymore, it’s practically an article – on the Korean education system. I want to get input from some other people here before I finalize it, but this is something I’m pouring a lot into and I want it to be great. So look for that soon.
• In general, I am happy here. The city is beautiful and I feel mostly at home now. The weather is turning and a lovely chill creeps into the air every morning. The trees are blazes of red, orange, and gold. The walk to work is crisp, cool, and clear. I have many friends and many activities.
  
  I miss home, though. I miss being able to read all the street signs, I miss St. Louis’s broad (and clean!) streets, the little burger joints you can go to, walking into Wydown on a fall morning and hearing Lori call my name on the intercom to go and substitute for some damned class (just kidding on that last one). Most of all I miss my family – Lona and Rowdy most of all.
  
  9 months to go.