Originally, it was Armistice Day. At 11:11 on 11 November 1918, a cease-fire was declared across the Western Front of the Great War -- what is now known as World War One. It's commonly supposed that this was the day the First World War ended, but this is not strictly true. Combat continued on the Russian and Ottoman fronts for some time. In fact, the Turkish part of the war did not end until 1923.

After the Second World War, both the British Commonwealth and the United States changed the day a bit. In the Commonwealth, it's now Rememberance Day; in the US, Veteran's Day. France, by contrast, and I think Germany as well, continue to remember Armistice Day.

On the surface of it, the decision to change the day was something of an odd choice. While not the true end of the war, the original Armistice Day marked a significant turning point in world affairs. The cease-fire itself was more an expression that everyone had recognised the war had become too costly -- in literal and political terms -- than because anyone had really won or lost. Oh, the Central Powers were doomed to lose regardless, but they hadn't lost yet.

But most of the Central Power governments -- and some of the Allied ones as well! -- had already been thrown overboard by their populace by the time Armistice Day rolled around. The armistice was as much a declaration of a new chapter in European governance as anything else. "You can stop shooting at us because the guys who started all this are all dead, exiled, or otherwise defunct."

And yet, as important a moment as this was, and as much as it made sense to commemorate it as such between the First and Second World Wars, it does make some sense that, outside of Continental Europe, it's now seen as a more general day of recognition for veterans. America was really just barely involved in the Great War. Britain was involved heavily, but was never in direct territorial danger, as they would be in World War Two. They lost plenty of people, but World War One did not leave their country scarred with trenches and laced with mines.

The US has, by and large, gotten kind of bad about its own veterans and active duty service personnel. The strong isolationist streak that ran through the US's collective unconscious up through and even after the Great War has a habit of kicking in at odd moments, and how we think of our military gets rolled into that. Oh, there certainly are people who do support them, mind you, but there are many more who are indifferent, either taking them for granted or believing that if we'd just keep ourselves to ourselves, we wouldn't need much of a military in the first place.

Supporting the military and the men and women in it becomes harder when you hear of crap like Abu Graib. One starts to wonder exactly what one is supporting. Why should I spend a day commemorating sadists like Private England?

The answer, of course, is that, despite its occasional efforts to appear otherwise, our military is not all of a piece. Like any large collection of human beings, it has its heroes and its goats, brave and cowardly, smart and dumb, sadistic and sane. Even if you suppose that the crap at Abu Graib was sanctioned by the chain of command (and I'll admit that I'm someone who thinks it probably was, although we'll never prove it), that still does not mean that every soldier, or even most soldiers, think it was a good idea or would want to be associated with it themselves.

Even at its best, the military life is not the easiest life to live. When you become part of the modern military, you become part of a machine. You will be expected to do things you wouldn't choose to do, pursuing an agenda you didn't devise for an aim you may not understand even if you know what it is. It is not, bluntly, a life I have chosen or would choose for myself.

But I'm damned glad that there are people who do, and have done in the past. And I think perhaps we should make more of a big deal than we currently do -- whatever we call it -- about 11 November.