Stephen McGinty listens to the voices of two generations, one

embattled by a past that damaged its future, the other embattled by a

future which promises only disillusion.

X MARKS the spot where two generations collide; the muddy turf of

no-man's-land where the attitudes of old soldiers from a war they

couldn't forget conflict with those of today's youth -- media-branded as

slackers. The gap has become a chasm.

The differences between the teenagers and twentysomethings of today

and those of 50 years past are stark. Yesterday's youngsters rose at six

to a choice of employment; today's rise around noon to none. Security

and expectations have dissolved into apathy and impotence.

Fifty years ago, a generation fought and died to deliver democracy

from the hands of Fascists. Today, many do not believe democracy to be

worth a ballot paper. Young soldiers once had a belief, fought for it,

and won -- an idea almost alien now in an oppressive right-wing

atmosphere of benefit cuts and the Criminal Justice Bill.

Now, both the forgotten generation of infantrymen and today's young

Generation X are lost, marginalised and branded fogeys or yobs; one

having lost its choices with its limbs in foreign battlefields or in the

harsh turmoil of the post-war years; the other never having been offered

a choice in the first place.

As one old soldier said with a bitter laugh: ''I'm glad that I'm on my

way out instead of on my way in.''

For the fighting men, World War Two was a battle of good versus evil,

right versus wrong; and many still peer at society with the same black

and white blinkers. To accept the smudged grey of contemporary Scotland

would be viewed as defeat. Scottish folk singer Eric Bogle's song The

Gift of Years contains simple lyrics which strike at the heart of both

generations' predicaments.

''And the country that you died for mate,

You would not know it now.

The future that we dreamed of mate,

Got all twisted up somehow.''

* AT the heart of Edinburgh's Craigmillar sits The Thistle Foundation,

founded in 1944 for disabled ex-servicemen. It has been home for decades

to three particular old soldiers, Jimmy Dickson, 76, John Patterson, and

Eddie Winters, 80. Alec McGuiness, 72, lives in Pollok, Glasgow where he

plays, ''father-confessor'' to the aged community.

Jimmy Dickson: ''A dive bomber dropped a load on my 25lb gun at Anzio.

It landed on top of me trapping my legs. I ended up losing one.''

John Patterson: ''On the fourth of July 1944, I got it. We crashed on

to a minefield. I was a wireless operator and air gunner flying

Wellingtons on bombing raids over Essen and Hamburg. My right leg was

blown off and I was unconscious for three weeks.''

Eddie Winters: ''Burma was Hell. I was in the Ist Battalion Royal

Scots. We fought to live and the Japanese couldn't have cared less. They

would die rather than surrender. The worst was seeing your mates gunned

down.''

Alec McGuiness: ''They talk about D-Day. Every day was D-Day . . . I

was in the Merchant Navy, then the Royal Navy. In one North Atlantic

crossing we lost 17 ships in three days.''

Jimmy Dickson: ''My wound began rotting then healed over under the

plaster but, Jesus, the smell. I was two years in hospital; then I had

to sweep railway stations.''

John Patterson: ''I worked for Scottish Airways at Renfrew but then my

medical sunk me; then the Civil Service for six months; then redundancy

and three years of hospitals operations and plastic surgery. Since then

I've lived here.''

Eddie Winters: ''I became a gardener in Craigmillar. To get the kids

to help, I used to sprinkle pennies in the ground and pretend to dig

them up. It was a lovely place back then; the breweries were open and

everyone had work.''

Jimmy Dickson: ''Sir William Wallace personally gave me a job at Brown

Brother's Engineering . . . I stayed over 30 years . . . Jobs today have

six-month contracts.''

Eddie Winters: ''We sold our country. We used to make things. Scotland

was famous round the world for engineering. Now it's Japan and Germany;

we would have been as well losing.''

Jimmy Dickson: ''The problem today is a lack of morals. They've just

sunk so low. Today's youth have no respect. I saw a young mum shouting

at her child: 'I'll f**king sort you out.' What sort of language is that

to use to a child?''

Eddie Winters: ''There are kids on the street corners with tins of

superlager trying to tap 20p from a pensioner! What life is that?''

John Patterson: ''So many people don't appreciate the sacrifice which

so many made. However, a few youngsters did say to me that they just

didn't know what it was like.''

Eddie Winters: ''We're in the way, that's all.''

Alec McGuiness: ''John Major stood on the D-Day anniversary and talked

about a debt that could never be repayed. He could start by giving us a

pension on a par with the rest of Europe.''

Eddie Winters: ''If there was a war today, we should put all the

Tories in front of the barricades and there wouldn't be a shot fired.

The enemy would die laughing at what was running our country.''

Alec McGuiness: ''There is no comparison with years ago. I would not

like to be young today. This is a troubled time. It's alright for people

to say we had nothing; but then there was hope.''

* AROUND the pool table in Ladymuir Community Centre in Pollok are

Eddie Gibbon, 23, James McGregor, 23, Frank McNeilage, 19, Edward

Louden, 16, and George Morrison, 28. Eddie Gibbon is a part-time barman,

George is a student, the rest are unemployed.

Frank McNeilage: ''Their mates died, my mates died. One overdosed on

heroin and drink killed the other. He got drunk, fell asleep and choked

on his own vomit.''

Edward Louden: ''My uncle was stabbed to death; he was a prison guard

and he tried to stop a gang of young guys noising up an old women. One

of them pulled out a sword and stabbed him. It was terrible. It stunned

the whole family.''

James McGregor: ''We've all had friends die.''

Frank McNeilage: ''Young people get the blame for all the trouble that

is going on; but it's not all of us; people forget that. But everyone is

just all lumped together.''

Eddie Gibbon: ''We get on well with the old people in the scheme. If

we saw someone breaking into a house, we'd chase them and get the gear

back. There is now a community spirit. A few years ago, we would have

helped them blag it.''

James McGregor: ''Last summer there were loads of us all cutting grass

and installing alarms for pensioners.''

Eddie Gibbon: ''The D-Day anniversary: what did it do for us and what

did it do for the old people with bad housing and poor pensions? I think

they could have found better ways to spend the money.''

George Morrison: ''The old veterans deserved their day. But what was

sickening was the Queen and Prime Minister hogging the coverage with

empty words. It was sick and dispiriting.''

Eddie Gibbon: ''Would I trade our future for their past? Sure. Who

wants TV and videos when you've money and work? You would have no time

to watch the television and a lot better things to do.''

Frank McNeilage: ''I don't think I'll ever get a decent job. If I do

get one, what will it be? #2 an hour? What kind of money is that? There

just isn't hope.''

George Morrison: ''I don't think that the democracy that we have is

fitting considering the number of men who fought to achieve it.

Democracy has been stalled. This country is choked by quangos. True

democracy lasts a day every four years.''

Young pool player: ''It's all 50 years ago. Why dig it up? Old people

go on about the good old days, then turn round and never stop

complaining. Just give us a break!''

Eddie Gibbon: ''Why would I fight for the bosses? That's the only

people who make money from wars. Everyone went into Kuwait to protect

oil supplies and no-one will touch Rwanda. It's a joke.''

Edward Louden: ''I think I would fight. At least it would be something

to do.''