I have read a lot about World War Two like ever child of the sixties it is after all, the war ‘par excellence’. I have not commented on whether Roosevelt knew about the Japanese attack before hand and used it as an excuse to get over opposition in Washington to joining the war, or whether the Japanese tried and through a series of mishaps, failed to declare war officially before the attack happened.
I have elsewhere thought about how all wars are started for ridiculous reasons, and how all wars are linked since the beginning of recorded history and even that to me, with DNA research telling us that we are all descended from thirty-six women living twenty-five to fifty-thousand years ago making us all cousins, all wars are civil wars.
I always think only about those who die and could have lived. Of the thousands of love stories that ended in tragedy, the broken families and the heartbreak of the living. The lives mis-directed through disability and the terror in the minds of many who survive and can never rehabilitate into society again. These are the victims of our inability to say as a world we will not kill each other and therefore give the excuse of self-defence to all soldiers.
There have been too many killed in our history and saddest of all, they will be insignificant compared to the deaths to come.