Why England fans must think before they drape

There really isn’t much chance of England supporters defacing the most imposing of Volgograd’s war memorials. For a start, Rodina Mat

Zovyot! — The Motherland Calls! — is on Mamayev Kurgan, a height overlooking the city.

Equally, it is 85 metres from the tip of the brandished sword to the toes of Mother Russia. It was the biggest free-standing sculpture in the world on completion in 1967, and remains the largest female statue. The odd ‘Lads on Tour’ banner really isn’t going to dominate it.

Even so, it might be an idea to press mute on those old war songs for this one. The RAF from England didn’t shoot anything down over Stalingrad, as it then was, and if not for the English the Russians really wouldn’t be Krauts, considering two million of its people died repelling the Nazis on the Eastern Front.

There were 20 million Russian casualties in the Second World War. At one stage the average life expectancy of a Russian soldier at Stalingrad dropped below 24 hours. There is too much conflation of football and war.

Russian police have provided a list of Volgograd sites where other national flags should not be displayed and Deputy Chief Constable Mark Roberts, head of football for the National Police Chiefs Council, sounds wary of flags being flown at all. ‘People need to be really careful — it can come across as imperialistic and can cause antagonism,’ he said.

It might be argued that is almost the point. What is international football without nationalism? Take the national element away and it’s just another game.

At World Cups, national anthems become football songs. That one about the Queen gets far more play during England matches than any tribute to Harry Kane. The cross of St George is part of the pageantry. It can’t all be half-and-half scarves. Yet we need to appreciate where we are. The reason there is anxiety around a match at the site that turned the war in Europe, is that in previous tournaments the boisterous English have a habit of treating the centre like an invading army. Not just flying flags in bars happy to accept English money, but all across town with scant consideration.

Carpets of red crosses are laid around monuments without feeling for local sensibility. Kevin Miles, chief executive of the Football Supporters’ Federation, insisted most England fans understood and respected other cultures, but it’s not always true.

Roberts drew a comparison with foreign flags draped on London’s Cenotaph. What might appear, at first glance, an unspectacular stone rectangle has considerably deeper meaning to us. Equally, that fat bloke on horseback might be considered the liberator of his country, and to have ‘The Dog and Duck, Doncaster’ wrapped around his shoulders becomes an affront to all that is holy.

Roberts’s message? Think before you drape. There is too much merging of England’s military past and its football present, too much reflected glory mined from the bravery of a past generation. Football isn’t war. At the Battle of Stalingrad, the commander of the 64th Rifle Division, as punishment for a rising number of desertions, lined up his troops and walked along the line counting to 10. Every 10th man, he shot in the head until his magazine was empty. In future, his troops would kill deserters themselves rather than risk randomly cruel repercussions. Literally, this is decimation. It’s a little different from having a few players out, I am sure you agree.