Personal

Figures in the shadows

On a late walk down by the river tonight, a shouting came from the darkness of a car park.

I moved on to investigate and found, in the shadows, the blurry sight of cadets on drill practise. Their instructor barked and shouted; the words of his colleague were less clear, but in a coarse vocabulary they seemed to sketch a particularly tabloid image of a soldier's life.

In front of them, a dozen young people. From a distance I'd guess some were no older than fifteen.

"Wars will cease when men refuse to fight."

These words have been on my mind for the past two years, challenging my attitudes and beliefs. But tonight I just wanted to repeat them over and over again.

"Go home," I cried out in my head. "Come back when you can convince me that you really want to fight."