Memories of the Great War

Some of my earliest memories are of what life was like for a small child growing daily more conscious of the world in the aftermath of the Great War that began 100 years ago. I was born into a large extended Australian family in 1926, 8 years after the Great War ended; but my earliest memories, which probably date from the summer of 1929-30, include ways in which its impact dominated many conversations and the family home was littered with magazines and illustrated books with graphic pictures of that terrible, suicidal conflict. The family was still mourning the death of "Lidie" (Elias) on the killing fields of Gallipoli in 1915. Lidie had been in the middle of the 10 children in the family and was joined in uniform by his youngest brother; his two oldest brothers were considered too old and had too many family responsibilities to fight. Two of my mother's sisters remained unmarried because their sweethearts were killed in the Great War. On my father's side, several of his uncles fought at Gallipoli and in France. Now, 100 years after it all began with the assassination of the Arch-Duke Ferdinand in Sarajevo, are we supposed to celebrate it or lament its lasting influence on so many aspects of everyone's lives? There's an aspect of the Great War that was never talked about in my Australian family; the family had German connections, there were cousins who wore field grey German uniforms; perhaps they even shot at each other.  I suppose many Canadian families can say the same. That is just one of the ways the Great War was a suicidal conflict.