Unlike today, the great wars of the twentieth century were remarkably simple in concept. The first and second world wars, in which my Great Grandfather and Grandfather fought, were both relatively simple to understand. Two sides faced off in a winner takes all conflict. It required entire nations to commit all resources in a clear contest of survival. Every man, woman and child was either involved directly or effected by the war effort, and everyone understood what was at stake.

How the world has changed. Today’s situation, in stark contrast, is anything but simple. The battlefields are ubiquitous, there are no front lines, and a 360 degree threat. Wars now fed to public perception by media networks. There is no symmetry of force, no symmetry in the stakes of those engaged. We speak of defence yet the meaning of the word has changed, becoming complicated, less well defined. War in a media controlled, interdependent and heavily populated planet has brought us new challenges.

Even soldiers today sometimes do not understand fully why they are being deployed. Beyond the politics, a million miles from college coffee shop protests, the meaning is more clearly defined. By the crack of a close miss, or the deafening ring of high explosives. With the desperate struggle to get a wounded comrade to a medic. With orders and objectives, with dust and sweat, with blood, fear and even exhilaration. In many respects the soldier's day has not changed in centuries despite our present and moral and political conundrum.

Supporting your boys on the ground is a far cry from supporting any political strategy. Whatever the politics, soldiers pay with their lives. You chose your leaders who then make the policies. Soldiers have died and continue to die to provide you with that option. So the next time you vote, spare them a moment's thought if you would be so kind, and chose wisely. If you don’t understand what’s going on around you in this world, take time to find out.

 

The military factor in Karl’s Odyssey:

In 1986, at sixteen years old, I joined the Parachute Regiment as a boy soldier. It's fair to say my first years in the army were less than promising. The Parachute Regiment prides itself on many things, but high on the list is physical fitness. A unit designed to fight behind enemy lines lives on its feet and stays alive by being able to march long distances carrying everything it needs to fight and win.

One of my first reports as a boy soldier stated “this man has no fitness”. During that period I had gained five inches in height and had precious spare energy. I struggled for two years in one of the harshest training establishments in the British Army, attempting the Parachute selection course, or 'P-Company', five times, unparalleled in those days. Another report from a commanding officer at the time sums up why I was allowed to persevere “this mans military skills cannot be faulted”. They had also seen a young man who, despite short comings, did not know how to stop trying and would not quit.

I joined the 3rd Battalion Parachute Regiment (3 Para) in the summer of 1988 and served until December 1998.
I have been heavily influenced by the experiences, perhaps more than I'm often willing to admit, and endowed with Regimental philosophy. Fully appreciating my abilities, having been pushed to my limits and beyond on countless occasions, the ground work had been laid for the next great challenge in life, and I left the Army to begin an odyssey.