>your face when it was all for nothing
This one hits me in the feels.
Obviously, the war against Germany was a mistake.
But, these people didn’t make the mistake. If you were living in Britain at the time and London was getting regularly bombed, you pretty much had to fight back. The only option at that point would be total commitment.
Even if you knew it was the fault of the government.
They didn’t even know.
Sarah Robinson was just a teenager when World War II broke out.
She endured the Blitz, watching for fires during Luftwaffe air raids armed with a bucket of sand.
Often she would walk ten miles home from work in the blackout, with bombs falling around her.
As soon as she turned 18, she joined the Royal Navy to do her bit for the war effort.
Hers was a small part in a huge, history-making enterprise, and her contribution epitomises her generation’s sense of service and sacrifice.
Nearly 400,000 Britons died. Millions more were scarred by the experience, physically and mentally.
But was it worth it? Her answer – and the answer of many of her contemporaries, now in their 80s and 90s – is a resounding No.
They despise what has become of the Britain they once fought to save. It’s not our country any more, they say, in sorrow and anger.
Sarah harks back to the days when ‘people kept the laws and were polite and courteous. We didn’t have much money, but we were contented and happy.
But the truth that emerges from these letters is that the survivors of that war generation have nothing but contempt for his government.
They feel, in a word that leaps out time and time again, ‘betrayed’.
He added: ‘Those comrades of mine who never made it back would be appalled if they could see the world as it is today.
Immigration tops the list of complaints.
‘People come here, get everything they ask, for free, laughing at our expense,’ was a typical observation.
‘We old people struggle on pensions, not knowing how to make ends meet. If I had my time again, would we fight as before? Need you ask?’
Many writers are bewildered and overwhelmed by a multicultural Britain that, they say bitterly, they were never consulted about nor feel comfortable with.
‘Our country has been given away to foreigners while we, the generation who fought for freedom, are having to sell our homes for care and are being refused medical services because incomers come first.’
Her words may be offensive to many – and rightly so – but Sarah Robinson defiantly states: ‘We are affronted by the appearance of Muslim and Sikh costumes on our streets.’
But then political correctness is another thing they take strong issue with, along with politicians generally – ‘liars, incompetents and self-aggrandising charlatans’ (with the revealing exception of Enoch Powell).
‘Our British culture is draining away at an ever increasing pace,’ wrote an ex-Durham Light Infantryman, ‘and we are almost forbidden to make any comment.’
A widow from Solihull blamed the Thatcher years ‘when we started to lose all our industry and profit became the only aim in life’.
Her husband, a veteran of Dunkirk and Burma, died a disappointed man, believing that his seven years in the Army were wasted.
‘It is 18 years since I lost him and as I look around parts of Birmingham today you would never know you were in England,’ she wrote.
Pictured: Tens of thousands of Moslems celebrating Eid in Birmingham
‘He would have hated it. He also disliked the immoral way things are going. I don’t think people are really happy now, for all the modern, easy-living conveniences.
‘I disagree with same-sex marriages, schoolgirl mothers, rubbish TV programmes, so-called celebrities and, most of all, unlimited immigration.
‘I am very unhappy about the way this country is being transformed. I go nowhere after dark. I don’t even answer my doorbell then.’
A Desert Rat who battled his way through El Alamein, Sicily, Italy and Greece was in despair.
‘This is not the country I fought for. Political correctness, lack of discipline, compensation madness, uncontrolled immigration – the “do-gooders” have a lot to answer for.
Another common issue was their bemusement at the idea anyone could live in constant debt.
‘We were brought up to believe that if you hadn’t the money, you waited till you had!’ one wrote.
‘So much progress has been made to transform the standard of living since the war.’
But she could not help asking whether people were any happier.
She bemoaned the advent of the Pill and the collapse of sexual morality. ‘In my day, drugs were unknown, families remained together, divorce was a rarity and children felt secure.
‘Were our sacrifices made so hooligans may run wild? And aggressive behaviour be accepted as the norm by TV interviewers and society in general?’
Their letters of complaint to councillors and MPs went unanswered.
It was as if they didn’t matter, except when wheeled out for the rituals of Remembrance Day.
In one letter in this collection, an RAF mechanic quoted a poem about comrades who fell in battle: ‘I mourned them then, But now surviving in a world, Indifferent to their hopes and dreams, I grieve more for the living.’
It is convenient to blame these people for having done absolutely nothing to prevent the collapse of society.
After all, it did happen while they were adults, and they raised their children to be the most obnoxious, narcissistic cunts to ever fester upon the face of the earth.
But, it is useless to blame them. They are just people, gullible old-fashioned people, who believed in the illusion of democracy and thought that this institution would prevent the government from transforming society in a way that nobody wanted.
Victim-blaming is the principle of democratic government. There is no way to blame a prior generation without repeating their mistake, which was to think that people can dictate policy by putting their opinions in the opinion box.
This is a stunning feat of mental gymnastics, invented to prevent people from doing the most obvious thing, and blaming the people who made all these decisions for us – the international financial elite who control our media and buy up politicians on every side of the aisle.