War is Brutal. There is No Such Thing As An Ethical War.

Born in Jamaica in 1896 to Scottish parents, my great-grandfather, Alfred Channer, fought in both world wars, first as a teenager, and then as a middle-aged married father in the Second World War. At the time, Jamaica was still part of the British Empire. Wounded in both, he recalled to my grandmother the horrors he saw and the things he did to survive in the trenches and on the battlefields of Europe.

In 1914, when Europe was on the brink of war, my great-grandfather was accepted into medical school. A few months later, World War I began, and he was called to serve the empire. My great-grandfather witnessed first-hand the horrors of trench warfare: soldiers being blown up by artillery shells, suffocation from gas attacks, and rats eating through corpses in no-man's land. He also treated wounded soldiers on both sides of the conflict. What he witnessed led him to the belief that war is madness.

My great-grandfather experienced firsthand the terrible consequences of war, twice. After seeing the horrors of battle, the senseless violence and death, he believed that war was an inherently irrational act. He understood that there were rules in place to fight fairly, but those rules meant nothing in the trenches. There was only violence and death.

Sadly, in the decades that followed, not much has changed. In fact, with new technologies like drones and cyber warfare, the consequences of war are even more devastating than ever before. Innocent civilians are killed or maimed; families are torn apart; cultures are destroyed. And for what? So, a few people can control resources or territory? It doesn't make any sense.

If we continue to wage wars based on hatred and greed instead of reason and compassion, we will never know peace.

My great-grandfather once said that there's no such thing as a moral war; only the dead and those who are soon to be dead. In battle, no one apologizes to their enemy before killing them or assures them that they'll kill them nicely. When you’re in the middle of it, there is only one thing on your mind, and that is to just survive.

Sometimes the fear gets so bad that you hope the next incoming bomb will end you just to stop the unhinged terror gripping your mind, yet every time you come face to face with your mortality, you fight.

He wanted to become a doctor, a servant to humanity, someone who healed and saved lives, but the only way he could survive the first great war was to take lives.

If words fail to settle disputes between nations and it’s decided that the only option is to go to war, then opponents must adhere to the rules of war.

Whatever the reason, once war has been declared, there must be rules that both sides agree to follow. These rules are called the "laws of war." Their purpose is to minimize the number of casualties on both sides by regulating how battles can be fought and what types of weapons can be used. However, it’s madness to set rules for killing each other.

My great-grandfather recounted the horrendous conditions in the trenches. There was hardly any food or water, and sometimes not even any shelter from enemy fire. Men died by the thousands from disease or injuries sustained on the front line. It is amazing that anyone survived at all. But those who did often found ways to cope with their experiences so they could keep going day after day.

Some, he said, developed dark senses of humor, while others turned to religion or writing letters home as a way of escaping reality for just a little while longer.

He committed some terrible acts during the war. So, when he got wounded, he felt that he deserved it. It was a strange comfort. He felt like it was his absolution for doing such horrible things. Like him, most of his trench mates didn’t even know what the war was about, only that each side was trying to kill as many on the opposing side as possible.

War is barbaric and senseless. The soldiers in the trenches are there at the expense of the powerful. They are sent to fight and die for reasons that often have nothing to do with them. Their lives are wasted, and their deaths mean nothing.

My great-grandfather was never the same. The first war left him broken and traumatized, and he never became a doctor. Instead, he farmed the land his father left him. It took him a while to feel almost human again. Eventually, he married the granddaughter of former slaves and became a father.

Being traumatized by the First World War wasn’t enough, so they conscripted him again when the Second World War broke out. This time, however, he had a lot to live for. He had a wife and children who depended on him, and he committed much worse acts of cruelty to survive.

Today we live in a different world where wars are often waged for vague reasons, but it doesn’t make them any less terrible or devastating than those fought by my great-grandfather. We must never forget that wars have consequences, not just for soldiers but also for civilians who often bear the brunt of conflict.

Let us remember these people when we think about waging war, and let us always strive to find peaceful solutions whenever possible. I believe it is unfair that our great-grandfathers and grandfathers sacrificed their lives and humanity only to have the next generation repeat their mistakes.

Also Published on Medium. Mar 22, 2022.