I went to bed last night after reading scripture with my wife, as we often do, and instead of drifting into a long, needed sleep, I was haunted by an idea. Would I rather, knowing what I know about the modern day and of history, live now or live to fight at the Somme? Rather than answer the question, I interrogated my mind to understand why I would ask myself such a question. Why The Somme? After some tossing and turning about it, I concluded that not only was the First World War the death of the West (not my idea), I concluded that the Battle of the Somme was the exact moment of expiration. As soon as the Pals went over the top, these childhood friends who'd answered their country's call, the war changed and Western Civilization started its terminal decline.
Excellent piece. I often wonder the same thing too, though not specifically about living in the Somme. The idea of wanting to know if you have what it takes is fundamental to being a man, and we’re denied that at every opportunity now. And so to the question of whether I’d actually prefer to live in a past time, if I would given the opportunity, I err on the side of “No,” as tempting as that would be. Knowing what I know now, despite utterly despising living now, the most retarded of all possible timelines, knowing that it would be my progeny who’d have to suffer is what gives me pause. I wouldn’t wish Clown World on anybody, and I’d never be able to repent of being a part of its creation. Better to live in it and help create something better, than to be a generation looked upon as the architect of the Age of Retardation.
I don’t know about the Somme, but I’d I didn’t have kids I’d go back to Afghanistan or Iraq in a heartbeat.