The mayor proudly cut the ribbon of a newly built monument – a statue of a soldier: a tribute to the fallen heroes in the Great War. 

“This monument should ensure that no one forgets the enormous sacrifice of these noble soldiers. We all owe them a great debt.”

“Why is it a sculpture of a man? Women died too,” some complained.

“Also, it is a model of a British soldier,” some said. “People of many nations fought side by side, not just the British.”

“The enemy lost lives too. We should not demonise people for simply obeying orders.”

“We should not glorify violence. All war is inhumane.”

A young girl watched on. “I’m so angry,” she said. “An ancient, mighty oak tree was felled to make way for this monument. Why should nature suffer so needlessly?” 

Time passed and the tributes to the monument diminished somewhat. People still came and laid tributes of flowers, but their words did not carry the same depth of understanding of those who had suffered. It wasn’t that they had forgot, it was more that they couldn’t remember what they didn’t know.

Eventually, people neglected to maintain the monument properly. The metal of the statue began to rust. Weeds began to grow over it. Birds nested in its eaves. Eventually the inscription faded and it was forgotten. 

The monument fell, and soon it was covered by the earth. Buried, it lay for centuries, but so cold and dry was the earth that little degradation occurred. After a thousand years it was discovered, and restored. Later still, it was placed in a museum.

“See how people venerated their warriors in years gone by,” people said. “War was not feared, it was celebrated.”

Facsimiles of the statue were made and it became a symbol of courage for all soldiers going into battle. The statue became the focus of the belief that death on the battlefield was honourable, the greatest tribute to a life well lived.