As someone who lost a good friend on Wireless Ridge when the craphats in the RA couldn't get their fucking guns to range properly because their equipment was obsolete shite, I would happily spit on her bloody grave.
There was fuck all of him left, so the bag in the coffin that was shipped all the way home to be buried with full military honours was more full of peat than person.
I've gone on to have kids and a life - he didn't get that chance. Dulce et Decorum Est? He didn't give his life for his country; it was taken away from him by incompetence and penny pinching. The sort of incompetence and penny-pinching that Thatcher stood for.