Remembering Sacrifice

For the intended experience of this post, visit <a href="">Remembering Sacrifice on Exposure</a>.
<a href="" title="20140813-4.jpg by Lucian, on Flickr"><img src="" width="500" height="375" alt="Kranji War Memorial, Singapore" class="img-center"></a>
They were fathers, sons, mothers and daughters. Many of them younger than I was. They began life so differently: they were Australian, British, Indian, Malay, Chinese; and yet all of them came together at this point in history and made the ultimate sacrifice.
<a href="" title="20140813-3.jpg by Lucian, on Flickr"><img src="" width="240" height="320" alt="Unknown soldier, Kranji War Memorial, Singapore" class="img-right"></a>Every few tombstones, you&#8217;d find one that bears no name, only the acknowledgement that someone lies here, whose life was extinguished too early for his or her time.
Away from the noise and the frenetic pace of the city, I could feel the slowing down of my pulse, and I could almost feel the uncertainty and fear that must have been in the hearts of these young men and women as they were thrust into the ravages of war. What made them fight for this land that wasn&#8217;t their own?
We could debate endlessly on whether we needlessly romanticise their deaths, but there is no debate as to whether we should honour their sacrifice with humility and gratitude.
<a href="" title="20140813-1.jpg by Lucian, on Flickr"><img src="" width="480" height="640" alt="Kranji War Memorial, Singapore" class="img-center"></a>

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