Is this the annual People Who Don't Wear Poppies Are DISRESPECTFUL Bingo?
My granddad volunteered in 1917. He was 16, about 5 foot tall and 6 stone. They still took him - and it was so obvious he was still a child, they put him to working with the horses, as his job was a stable lad in Camden (you know the stables market? Yup, when horses were kept underground, he was the kid who cared for them). He got gassed, then after he'd recovered from that and sent back, he was blown up along with his horses in France. The Germans picked him out of a muddy hole from underneath the bits of his horses, took him to hospital, put a steel plate in his skull and fed and clothed him until the end of the war. Christ know what else he saw, but as he received a citation for rescuing his senior officer from No Man's Land under direct fire, it sounds like there was a hell of a lot.
He bought one poppy. Never wore it, he kept it on the mantlepiece.
He despised remembrance parades, saying that from the moment they started, the most enthusiastic participants were those who would corner kids like him to try and force white feathers on them - something that was just handing them to the recipients - there were actual threats of violence for being male, preferably small enough to be an easy target and being visible, such as walking home from work.
He was absolutely resolute that, other than a church service, anything else that was done was purely glorifying war and for self aggrandisement.
If anybody had given him grief for not wearing a poppy, despite his usual maximum swearing level being 'Oh, balls', they would have got the full gamut of profanities from him.