"Meet me under the clock at Waterloo" was exactly the arrangement that Bernie and I made on arrival in London on Sunday for the Remembrance Sunday Parade at the Cenotaph. And so, we did indeed meet under the clock and made a leisurely walk on a cold dry morning across the Thames and Trafalgar Square to Whitehall where we soon joined the throng of veterans of all ages making its way to Horse Guards Parade to form up in their various contingents.
There were men and women of all ages wearing a variety of headgear from berets, Glengarrys and Gurkha Hats, their blazers and overcoats festooned with medals from campaigns from all over the world. We presented our tickets to smiling and polite Customs Officers in uniform and then stepped between lines of police officers onto the hallowed gravel of Horse Guards Parade and made our way across the square to find Colonel Browning, our contingent coordinator (political correctness here stopping him being called contingent commander no doubt) who was standing rather self consciously holding his plastic covered card bearing our marker number B12. He, unlike us, was sporting the obligatory Bowler Hat but proved to be a charming and welcoming gentleman who had travelled up from Amesbury for the occasion, "don't I know you he asked me" - I told him "no, it's that I have one of those faces" He grinned broadly and and replied "Yes, shame isn't it" as we shook hands warmly.
There were only six of us representing our Corps but for some time we were worried that the two of our members from Birmingham were not going to arrive but with time to spare they did at last arrive. Our contingent represented the Birmingham Branch, the Vehicle Specialist Branch and of course the largest RAOC Branch of all, RAOConLIne. We formed up columns and found ourselves between the REME Apprentices Association and the Home Guard Association who were dressed for the period with one rather elegant gentleman looking oddly like Cpl. Jones form Dad's Army.
I suppose we were all feeling a little self conscious about marching and I for one donning a beret with RAOC badge for the first time in many many years. But once we had stepped off and shuffled rather than marched in to Whitehall under the arch of Horse Guards and the watchful eye of the Sentry I for one started to feel a little more comfortable.
As we stood about waiting for the event to start I noticed there were some odd dress codes about despite requests from the Royal British Legion to "dress appropriately", with two of the REME contingent in jeans and coats draped rakishly over their shoulders and one ex member of the Army Air Corps in an anorak and beret with the longest beard and pony tail on parade!
We then stood for some half an hour waiting for the ceremony to start which did so but caught us by surprise due to the fact that whilst we were not far from the Cenotaph (actually directly in front of the Horse Boxes) we could not hear or see anything. We did however have a piped commentary coming from a speaker close by and a very large TV screen just ahead (I could have stayed at home for this I thought during one freezing foot stamping moment).
The Artillery round fired to commence the 2 minutes silence was deafening and not as it seems when broadcast on TV and many old veterans jumped out of their skins. One poor fellow was taken ill just prior to this and had to be taken away by paramedics and I dare say may not have reacted at all well had he been present when the gun fired, it may gave done him for good! Two minutes feels like a long time as you stand and ponder the passing of so many friends and loved ones and it is odd how many names run through your head but it is also somehow uplifting once you hear the bugles call to end the silence. It is a personal time and should be more respected in this country on every Remembrance Sunday and on every Armistice Day - 11th November.
So the Service started and we all sang our hearts out and then the moment I think we had all been waiting for came, the March Past and Salute, first at the Cenotaph and then again at the rear of Horse Guards. The words of command were shouted and we stepped off at 100 paces to the minute. Keeping the step was a nightmare as (1) We had no one to call the step and (2) the Home Guard contingent coordinator was calling the step, but very badly and without rhythm, and sin of all sins, "left left, left, left right left" No no no we thought that's not the way it's ....!! Left Right Left Right left right" - but then we clicked as just short of the Cenotaph we picked up the beat of the drum from the Massed Bands and as we slipped into rhythmic step, chins up, shoulders back arms swinging and taking our lead from the REME group we had fallen in with (our single rank of 6) - marched smartly past the Cenotaph amid cheers and applause that came so unexpectedly I nearly stumbled and lost the step. At this point I felt somewhat a fraud and not in any way deserving of such a welcome but soon realized that really the cheering and applause was really about those soldier who are in Afghanistan and Iraq now and who are the Veterans of the future.
It was also odd so see rows of police officers standing and applauding with the crowd, I held my head high and with my shoulders still back marched as if my old eagle eyed Sergeant Major was watching my every step!
An so it was down Whitehall into Parliament Square and then right in the Horse Guards for the columns to march past the saluting dias. The pace had picked up now and we had remembered how to "step short" again and how to eyes right with a flourish and look the saluting officer directly in the eye... in this case it was the grey, sour faced John Hutton Secretary of State for Defence and the "mystery" Royal who turned out to be The Earl of Wessex (Prince Edward) in the the uniform of Royal Honorary Colonel of the Royal Wessex Yeomanry - What surprised me more though was his complexion as we passed him.. it was oddly flawless and without a single blemish or wrinkle and the colour somewhat of a pale tan... very odd indeed.
I have lasting memories of general friendly banter among the 8500 veterans and 1500 civilians who marched, of old soldiers resplendent in row and upon row of medals which in some cases were theirs and the fathers medals worn proudly across their chests. Of The many foreign veterans from all races and corners of the world, particularly the Gurkha contingent with their officers looking so dashing in their broad brimmed hats turned up on one side and so many small children wearing the medals of the dead hero fathers from these current wars all marching with pride in their smart little blazers so sad it was hard not to feel the tears trying to escape.
Once we have reassembled back on Horse Guards we started to make our farewells and reflect on what had been a wonderfully fulfilling if tiring morning most of which was spent standing about waiting to do something - a soldiers life after all. But we all were firm in our desire to do it all again next year!
My companion for the day and I went for a drink in a pub just off Parliament Square which was full of smartly dressed impossibly young naval officers, ageing parachute regiment veterans and equal numbers of younger members of the Parachute Regiment also. Even as we stood outside the pub among the throngs, foreign tourists stopped and asked many of these medal festooned veterans to pose for photographs and seeing a 76 year old former para being photographed in front of a 25 year old serving para sporting a chest full of medals was a sobering thought... so many more men and women to die and so many more medals to wear.
I am sincerely glad I made the effort to go and it was wonderful to meet the other old comrades and friends and spend that two minutes of quiet reflection but I feel even more resentful of those in our society who decry this moment of remembrance and claim it celebrates war - It does not!
Sua Tela Tonanti
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