I discovered there was a war hero in my family when I was in military prison. A relative brought medals and a torn citation and I examined them in the hushed visiting hall. My great-grandfather, George Glenton, was 17 when he signed up to fight in the First World War. His valour had been conspicuous. The two Privates Glenton – him and me – are separated by a century, but connected by blood and medals. His war was in the hills around the River Piave in Italy, 1918. World War One was a ‘war to end all wars’. They wrote that on his medals. My own war was in Afghanistan – one theatre in an endless ‘War on Terror’.
George was a boy conscript. He was from Bradford, in West Yorkshire, then a booming industrial centre, now a place considered a heartland of home-grown terrorism. Bradford is one of the most racially segregated cities in England. The divisions between white and Muslim communities are stark after 10 years of the ‘War on Terror’. Racists have re-dubbed the city ‘Bradistan’.
