By
Tony Rennell
Last updated at 10:55 PM on 21st November 2009
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.
Some WWII soldiers, and families of those lost in the
war, have complained society today shows no sign of the effort they
made to help
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.
'People whistled and sang.
There was still the
United Kingdom, our country, which we had fought for, our
freedom, democracy. But where is it
now?!'
Sarah Robinson, who joined the Royal Navy when she was
18, says the Britain she once
knew no longer exists
The feelings of Sarah and others from this most selfless
generation about the modern world have been recorded by a Tyneside
writer, 33-year-old Nicholas Pringle.
Curious about his grandmother's generation and what they did in
the war, he decided three years ago to send letters to local
newspapers across the country asking for those who lived through
the war to write to him with their experiences.
He rounded off his request with this question: 'Are you happy with how your
country has turned out? What do you think your fallen comrades
would have made of life in 21st-century
Britain?'
What is extraordinary about the 150 replies he received, which
he has now published as a book, is their vehement insistence that
those who made the ultimate sacrifice in the war would now be
turning in their graves.
There is the occasional bright spot - one veteran describes
Britain as 'still the best country in the world' - but the overall
tone is one of profound disillusionment.
'I sing no song for the once-proud country that spawned me,'
wrote a sailor who fought the Japanese in the Far East, 'and I
wonder why I ever tried.'
'My patriotism has gone out of the window,' said another
ex-serviceman.
In the Mail this week, Gordon
Brown wrote about 'our debt of dignity to the war
generation'.
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'.
New Labour, said one ex-commando who took part in the disastrous
Dieppe raid in which 4,000 men were lost, was 'more of a shambles
than some of the actions I was in during the war, and that's saying
something!'
He added: 'Those comrades of
mine who never made it back would be appalled if they could see the
world as it is today.
'They would wonder what happened to the Brave New World they
fought so damned hard for.'
Nor can David
Cameron take any comfort from the elderly.
His 'hug a hoodie' advice was scorned by a generation of brave
men and women now too scared, they say, to leave their homes at
night.
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.'
This picture of a teenage hoodie making a disrespectful
gesture at Tory leader David Cameron illustrates a wartime WAAF's
comments that Britain has become 'a land of yobs and drunks'
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).
The loss of British sovereignty to the European Union caused
almost as much distress. 'Nearly all veterans want Britain to leave
the EU,' wrote one.
Frank, a merchant navy sailor, thought of those who gave their
lives 'for King and country', only for Britain to become 'an
offshore island of a Europe
where France
and Germany
hold sway. Ironic, isn't it?'
As a group, they feel furious at not being able to speak their
minds.
They see the lack of debate and the damning of dissenters as
racists or Little Englanders as deeply upsetting affronts to
freedom of speech.
'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.
'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.
'If you see youngsters doing something they shouldn't and you
say anything, you just get a mouthful of foul language.'
Undoubtedly, some of the complaints are 'grumpy old man' gripes,
as the veterans themselves recognise - from chewing gum on
pavements and motorists using mobile phones to the march of
computerisation ('why can't I just go to the station and buy a
railway ticket?') and the dearth of pop music tunes you can
hum.
But it is the fundamental change in society's values which they
find hardest to come to terms with.
Bring back birching and hanging, the sanctions they grew up
with, they say. Put more bobbies back on the beat.
'We were rigidly taught good manners and respect for older
people,' said a wartime WAAF, 'but the nanny state has ruined all
that. Television programmes are full of violence and obscene
language.
This Land of Hope and Glory is in reality a land of yobs, drug
addicts, drunkard youths and teenage mothers who think they are
owed all for nothing.'
Aged 85, she has little wish to go on living.
For others, the strength of character that got them through the
war is still helping them to survive the disappointments of
peacetime.
A crofter's son from Scotland
who served on the Arctic convoys taking supplies to Russia
found the immediate post-war years hard.
Soldiers of the British Expeditionary Force leave the
UK for France aboard a troopship to help the French Resistance
during WWII
'In those days we had no welfare support from any source. It was
as though we had served our country to the full and were then
forgotten.
'However, we were very resilient and determined to make a go of
it, and many of us, including myself, succeeded.
'How times have changed now, with the countless many clamouring
to get welfare benefits for the asking.'
A medic who made it through Dunkirk and D-Day thought the fallen
would be appalled by the lack of manners in modern life and the
worship of celebrities, plus 'the patent dishonesty of
politicians'.
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.
However, this particular man was unusual among the 150
respondents in believing that there were many pluses to modern
life.
He even had a good word to say about the European Union and felt
it would appeal to the fallen 'if only for maintaining the peace in
Europe over the past 60 years or so'.
He praised the breaking down of class barriers in Britain
compared with the years when he was young and 'infinitely'
increased prosperity.
'More clothes, cars, holidays abroad, home ownership. As a young
teacher in the Fifties I had one suit (Army issue) and the luxury
of a sports jacket and flannels at the weekend.
'Education has made vast progress. In my early days I taught
classes of 50. Only five per cent of children went on to further
education compared with over 40 per cent today.
'The emancipation of women has also been a huge plus, with the
introduction of the Pill a large contributor. Before the war, women
teachers were dismissed as soon as they married.'
A Land Girl who laboured on farms in Devon during the war agreed
that 'we have so much to be grateful for.
'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?'
A captain with a Military Cross for valour under fire thought
Britain was still the best country in the world.
The 'occasional' sight of parents and nicely dressed children
gave an otherwise gloomy veteran of the Italian campaign a sense
that 'what we did all those years ago was not for nothing'.
A grandmother, the widow of a Royal Marine who took part in the
D-Day landings, felt the
National Health Service had descended into chaos but was
grateful for a pensioner's free television licence, 'which brings
art, travel and animals into my home', and being able to text her
grandchildren.
Just being alive was a bonus. 'Although I hate what is happening
to our country, I am so happy to be here, grumbling, but
remembering better, happier days,' she wrote.
But one of the bitterest
complaints of the veterans was that their trenchant views on many
of the matters aired here were constantly ignored by those in
authority.
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.
One person complained it is not right those lost in the
World Wars are only remembered publicly on Remembrance Day
'Why do so many of the British public confuse sentimentality
with genuine concern for others?' asked one letter-writer.
But this was the generation honoured in Remembrance services
last weekend, showered with gratitude and teary-eyed sentiments as
their dwindling ranks marched unsteadily past the Cenotaph and
other war memorials throughout the UK.
The overall impression any reader of the letters gets is that
this generation feel unheard, unwanted and unimportant.
This remarkable collection of their thoughts should give us
pause for reflection.
They may be deemed beyond their sell-by date (and many of their
views may seem unacceptable, flouting every sort of 'ism'
imaginable) but, by their deeds of 60-plus years ago, they have won
the right to be listened to and their disillusionment noted with
respect.
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.'
• The Unknown Warriors by
Nicholas Pringle, £11.69. For copies, go to the website
www.theunknownwarriors.co.uk