A Military Win. A National Failure. We Can Do Better.
I don't like November.
It's a month when the totemic salutations of war give an excuse for the unbloodied to pontificate and politicise the sacrifice of those who fought. Nobody crawled through wet chalk or stood shivering in a trench for a policy theory. They fought for the person next to them. For their mates. For the families they'd hoped to return to. For a community that made sense.
And that's why this story matters.
ByJake Lapham
On paper, £9 billion to rebuild or refurbish almost every military home in Britain sounds like justice finally served. A "decisive break" from decades of mould, neglect and cold nights wrapped in Army-issue blankets. A long-overdue answer to families who've been living more like evacuees than the spine of Britain's defence capability.
But don't mistake this for pure benevolence. Or assume it materialised from nowhere.
In 2022, families stationed in Sandhurst told the BBC they'd been living without heating for days, damp stains creeping up the walls, their children coughing through the night. By 2023, two-thirds of all service accommodation – nearly 48,000 homes – needed "extensive refurbishment or rebuilding" just to meet modern standards.
That's not wear and tear. That's failure. State-sanctioned neglect. And a neglected home is a neglected life. I know what that feels like.
I grew up in military quarters. I went to a military school. I wore the uniform. I lived in houses that were, on paper, the envy of post-war Britain: solid, functional, state-maintained.
But many weren't.
I remember my mum bleaching black mould off window frames, wiping condensation that dripped like sweat off concrete walls. My dad, 30 years serving this country, watched his family sleep in cold, unhealthy rooms built to supposedly protect us.
It was roulette. Some homes were fine. Others rewrote your expectations of what it meant to "serve your country" and how little the country, at times, seemed prepared to serve you back.
This could never be excused by ignorance.
The UK has known how to build healthy homes for decades. And I know from those I work with now: there are companies ready to roll out fast, durable, safe retrofit solutions. They've been trying to help the MOD for years. Someone's finally let them in the door. A crack of light.
But here's what turns the stomach: this isn't being framed as a housing emergency for everyone. It's being quietly marked as a reward for the uniformed.
Why should the son of a corporal get a mould-free bedroom when the daughter of a nurse breathes spores through her plaster? Do we only fix homes when there's a camouflage pattern on the census return?
This could have been visionary. Tie retrofit specialists to military sites as regional hubs. Use MOD procurement to feed skills and supply chains back into council estates and street-by-street retrofit programmes. Turn veterans into retrofit leaders. Create a national academy to decarbonise the UK's housing, not just its barracks.
If we can find £9 billion for service homes, where is the national retrofit mission for every home?
This week, we remember the fallen. And we should, solemnly, completely. But remembering is not just an act of looking back. It's a promise to the living, to our children's lungs and our parents' skin. To the dignity of home.
This government has just reminded us that it can act when cornered. When ashamed. When forced into responsibility.
Let's push harder. Let's widen the circle.
Homes should work.
For soldiers.
For families.
For us all.