How to Delay the Inevitable: Remembering our Grandparents’ Stories

“Do you think we’ll see another world war before we die? Will the ecological crisis inevitably lead to mass-destruction as states are forced to fight for survival? With the plethora of nuclear weapons, could we even survive World War III without human extinction?” These are questions I ask myself weekly and that most in our generation have undoubtedly discussed. The Western era of peace, which has presided since the end of World War II, is entirely unprecedented. With today’s rise of fanatic leaders, the sheer mass of nuclear weapons available and an ecological crisis that is bound to increase tensions, this era of peace will inevitably come to an end, and, as always, the West will implicate the rest of the world. 

And how could we possibly be prepared for a war in an era with the existing nuclear capacity to wipe out humanity? Perhaps our best chance is to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Perhaps the nature of people makes it impossible for us to live in an eternal state of peace and safety, so maybe the best way for us to stay safe is to prevent global war for as long as possible.

However, with the rise of political and ideological extremism, it seems we have forgotten the stories our grandparents taught us about war. In a generation that has other major and valid concerns, such as global warming, inflation and systemic inequalities, the lessons of past generations on wars that seem distant have lost their significance. 

Whilst our parents may never see another world war, we will probably not be as lucky, and therefore, it’s up to us to prevent it for as long as possible. Perhaps the first step in doing so is remembering the stories our grandparents and great-grandparents have passed down through the generations about what they saw in times of war. I would like to share some of the stories I’ve been told, and therefore chose to remain anonymous for the sake of my grandparents' privacy.

My grandfather often told me about hunger. An overwhelming, gut-wrenching, life-scarring hunger. As part of a large family, each had their daily ration consisting of a piece of bread meant to sustain them throughout the day. But starvation changes things we believe to be fundamentally human, even parental loyalty. One day, my grandfather found a piece of bread in the street. Overjoyed by this incredible discovery, which would slightly ease the hunger of a prepubescent child, he ran to his father to show off his discovery, who had been lying in bed for several days, too weak from hunger to leave. Without saying a word and with the swiftness uncharacteristic of a dying man, his father snatched it from his hand and stuffed it in his mouth. My grandfather never forgot this: starvation had caused his own father, a good and moral man, to steal food from his son. 

Another story I was told as a child was that of the parents of my French grandmother, who lived close to a phosphorus factory which Nazi Germans had requisitioned. My great-grandfather, who worked in the factory, would attempt to hide some of its production to send it to French resistance fighters. However, since phosphorus was highly flammable, it would often catch fire during its transportation, leading to my great-grandfather being arrested quite regularly during the war. Since he was deemed essential to the factory, he would be released, but his going missing became a regular occurrence for his family, who would not know if he was dead or alive for days on end until he would reappear.

Due to the strategic location of this phosphorus factory, the families of my grandparents were often bombarded by British and U.S. fighter jets. Evacuation became a regular occurrence due to bombardment. Whilst my grandparents told me that the British tended to be quite accurate in their aiming and would cause minimal civilian casualties, this was not the case for the U.S. Since the Americans prioritized the safety of their pilots, the fighter jets would fly over their targets at maximal altitude, hence bombing the factory imprecisely, causing many civilian deaths, setting fire to the home of French inhabitants, and regularly completely missing their target. Once, my grandfather had to flee his house in his underwear, woken up by his mother as the first bomb came crashing to the ground. When they returned to their home, they found a crater in their kitchen and a hole in their ceiling. 

The damage of the war was psychological. The impact of constant evacuations, bombardments and Nazi occupation led to a complete distrust among citizens. Not only did you have to be cautious of German spies, but French people were sometimes also willing to denounce each other if it benefited them. My grandmother learned to distrust everyone. She told me, “We had to be neutral. We had to learn to be completely invisible, which was really difficult for us young children. We had to learn complete self-control very young.” Once, coming from school, she was stopped by a beautiful woman who chatted with her for several minutes. A passerby, who noticed this, immediately informed her parents that their daughter had been speaking with a spy, who then harshly scolded her. While my grandmother had simply admired the lady for her beauty and elegance in a time of war where this was so rare, she was reminded about the necessity of not trusting anyone. Three days later, when she walked home from school, an old man, whom she would chat to almost daily and sometimes give her half a sugar cube (a rarity in times of hunger and poverty), waved her over to talk. Coldly, she ignored him, even though she had known and trusted him for so long. She had learned her lesson well. No one was to be trusted. This left a lasting impression long after the war.

However, “not everyone was so awful.” Nazi German soldiers had occupied my grandmother’s house throughout the war, and they had been confined to a room in their home whilst the soldiers inhabited the rest. My grandmother told me that it would have been easy and obvious even, to have hated them. Nevertheless, every time she speaks of these men who made her a guest in her own home and commandeered her house as if it were theirs, she had nothing but awe for them, as they had been respectful and polite. When they had leftovers, they would give them to my grandmother’s starving family, and once, they broke a dish and regretfully apologized to my great-grandmother. Confused, she found herself unable to hate those who had stolen her home from her. 

Today, it is easy to forget these stories; they seem so far in the past that they are easy to ignore. Politicians are quick to incite anger and hatred, and we are all too willing to denounce what we believe is wrong in extreme ways. My grandmother once told me that when she hears the speeches made by French politicians, it’s so obvious they know nothing about war. Even though we have the right to use our country’s power to fight for what we believe in, the impact of war is all-encompassing and devastating. Too many countries worldwide are either engaged in a war right now or have experienced one in the last decades, and although it sometimes seems distant, they have stories we need to listen to as well. When World War III comes, many of us will not survive, and those who do will have life-long trauma. Whilst we do not have the power to stop it from happening, we do have the power to delay it. I believe this starts by listening to our grandparents and great-grandparents' stories, the last generations who experienced World War II. Perhaps this way, we can remember to prioritize peaceful communication, diplomatic ties and tolerance with one another instead of hatred, anger and violence.