An extract from the novel Lost Causes by R H Nichols.
How very accurate though.
"He paused to puff life into the pipe, a glossy sheen settling over his eyes. “I have served my country now for more than fifty years," he went on. "And in that time, I’ve fought alongside thousands of men; men from all walks of life; men who were hungry, exhausted, and hopelessly outnumbered; men who were shelled and shot at until they were senseless; men who should have surrendered or run, but, who, through it all, laughed and sang and cried and kept on fighting. In exchange, they never asked for very much. Only the promise that what they were dying for wouldn't die with them; that future generations would never forget what they had done; that somehow they, and the values they fought for, would become enshrined in the nation’s consciousness…”
His speech slowed now, the tone deepening. “Of course, I can’t claim to know what those values were,” he said. “Every man had his own. But I do know what they didn’t include. And it didn’t include a country that would voluntarily surrender its sovereignty to its long-standing enemies. Nor did they fight for a country that would open the borders they'd shed so much blood to defend; or a society in which criminals and terrorists would be allowed to roam the streets at will. Nor did they fight for a system which would tax, harass and spy on them every minute of every day; in which they couldn't even say a joke - let alone a much needed home truth - without fear of official reprisal. And they sure as hell didn’t fight and die for Britain in which their grandchildren would grow up to call them fascists…”
He paused again, collecting his thoughts. “I never thought I’d say it, but looking back, the ones that died were the lucky ones. They didn’t live to see the great betrayal that was to follow, to see the wasting of all their efforts. We couldn’t have made it a land less fit for heroes to live in if we’d tried, and to be honest I can't say I care what happens anymore…”