Known unto God
Whenever I visit war cemeteries in France and contemplate the rows upon rows of gravestones representing those young men cut down in their prime, I am always greatly moved by those that bear no name at all but simply indicate 3 stark words: “Known unto God”. I imagine that the solace to be gained from this inscription depends largely on whether one is a religious person or not. Is it comforting to know that a body ravaged by the horrors of war to the extent that it is no longer possible to identify the living, breathing person it used to be can at least be recognized by some supposed Supreme Being? Maybe. In his poem, “Anthem for Doomed Youth”, Wilfred Owen alludes to the lack of any proper ceremony or rituals usually associated with the passing of a loved one for those that fall in battle, concluding that only the “drawing-down of blinds” will serve as the mark of respect for the dead soldiers. And this is only made worse for those whose graves can never identify them properly. Whatever the case, I never fail to be filled with immense sadness at such a short yet evocative epitaph.
The words themselves were suggested by none other than Rudyard Kipling, who became closely involved in what is now known as the Commonwealth War Graves Commission after the Great War ended. His commitment was partly as a way to come to terms with his own loss: that of his son John at the Battle of Loos in September 1915. Amid all the tragedy caused by the First World War, John’s story stands out as a particularly sad one. Although only 16 at the outbreak of hostilities in August 1914, he had been keen to do his bit for King and Country. Unfortunately, his severe shortsightedness had prevented him from being accepted into the armed forces on several occasions. It was only thanks to his father’s encouragement and direct intervention that he had finally been drafted into the Irish Guards. Following his training, he had been sent to France in August 1915 only to be reported missing in action at Loos just a few weeks after his 18th birthday. Apparently, he had been terribly injured by an exploding shell. Kipling was greatly affected by this loss and he and his wife spent years fruitlessly searching for him and any news of his whereabouts. Indeed, it was not until the beginning of the 1990’s that John’s body was finally identified, and even then some doubts remain as to whether it really is him.
It is clear that Kipling himself felt the heavy burden of guilt at having actively pushed his son into joining up to fight. In the run up to war, he had been a keen advocate of the conflict against Germany, and had written propaganda about the need to stand up to such evil and barbarism. After his son’s death, such was his bitterness and opposition that he was inspired to write of the fallen soldiers, “If any question why we died / Tell them, because our fathers lied.”
In the end, one may get into philosophical and religious debates about whether the anonymous fallen really are “Known unto God”, but on the other hand one can only hope that their ultimate sacrifice will not be forgotten in the generations to come. And even if their families have never been able to grieve the passing of a loved one with all due and proper ceremony, they at least remember them and the great price they paid in the war. In the words of Kipling’s other literary contribution to the war memorials, “Their Name Liveth For Evermore".
