My Life

My Life - Oswald MosleyNews of my condition eventually got around, and reached the ears of Colonel Eccles.There was a strong degree of paternalism in the colonels of these great regiments,which were conducted very like a large family. He sent for me and put me throughsome simple tests. I did not see him again until my wedding day in 1920, for thefollowing morning I was on my way home by his arrangement and pursuant to hisorders. A great surgeon, Sir Watson Cheyne, was on the point of retirement, butfortunately his son was a 16th Lancer and he took a special interest in my case. Hewarned me that only a fifty-fifty chance of saving the leg existed, which was in asorry state after long neglect. He operated, and his skill saved the leg, though after asecond operation towards the end of 1916 it was an inch and a half shorter. I hadentered the war in the category A1, and left it in the category C3, fit for office workonly.The administrative and other experience which I gained from this exclusion from warbelongs to another part of this story. I had seen enough in the air and in the trenches tobe left with one resolve, some may say obsession: war must never happen again. WeBritish, of these islands and the Empire, lost in that war 1,089,939 dead; over doublethe British losses in the Second World War, in which, in addition, at least 25,000,000Europeans, military and civilian, lost their lives. There was no fun in our war; therewas no fun in the Second World War for men or women who fought or suffered. Thevast fact of such experience remains always with those who really know.At the Armistice in 1918 I passed through the festive streets and entered one ofLondon's largest and most fashionable hotels, interested by the sounds of revelrywhich echoed from it. Smooth, smug people, who had never fought or suffered,seemed to the eyes of youth—at that moment age-old with sadness, weariness andbitterness—to be eating, drinking, laughing on the graves of our companions. I stoodaside from the delirious throng, silent and alone, ravaged by memory. Drivingpurpose had begun; there must be no more war. I dedicated myself to politics, with aninstinctive resolution which came later to expression in my speeches: 'Through andbeyond the failure of men and of parties, we of the war generation are marching onand we shall march on until our end is achieved and our sacrifice atoned'. What did itmean? What end? What atonement?—this sentiment of youth, which was then onlyinstinct without shape? It meant surely that war must never happen again, that wemust build a better land for our companions who still lived, that we must conceive anobler world in memory of those who died. We later gave form to instinct, and clearwill to passionate resolve; we failed once, but that purpose remains and will endure tothe end.62 of 424