11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, and the guns fell silent
Remembrance Day has become a lot more poignant in recent years - the papers are full of the passing of Harry Patch this year, and the ending of a generation, and at least on a personal note, knowing two people who've come back alive from Afghanistan and waiting on one more to do their tour of duty, I find it hard to simply pass this time of year off as "just another".
I attended the Royal Artillery service at the memorial on Hyde Park Corner on Sunday, where one of my friend's was laying a wreath on behalf of her Regiment. They stopped the traffic, and as 11:00 drew in, the canon fired in Hyde Park itself, the sound echoing so it sounded like two canons were booming. And as the canon-fire died down, the chimes of Big Ben could be heard from down-river, stealing through the air. It felt like the entire of London had stopped, pausing to hold it's breath and remember.
Today, as my train pulled into Waterloo station, the PA announced that the station would be pausing to observe the silence, at the hour of the armistice itself. Again, it felt like all of London was stopping - there was no commuter rush, no phones ringing - indeed, silence echoed through the motionless hall.
Soldiers in this country matter only in the papers, when they report yet another casualty of government policy. It often feels like a political statement, rather than a motivation of pride and remembrance, to see public figures wearing their poppies at this time of year. And no matter what I believe with regards to the politics and motivations themselves of war, I know that the sentiments which have been called upon for nearly 100years since WWI broke out - pride, sacrifice, honour, duty, courage - those are the most important things that people have given so that today stands like it does.
For every person, in every capacity, in every year, that gave, and still gives, gratitude is too little a return. On any given day, but today especially.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning,We will remember them
I attended the Royal Artillery service at the memorial on Hyde Park Corner on Sunday, where one of my friend's was laying a wreath on behalf of her Regiment. They stopped the traffic, and as 11:00 drew in, the canon fired in Hyde Park itself, the sound echoing so it sounded like two canons were booming. And as the canon-fire died down, the chimes of Big Ben could be heard from down-river, stealing through the air. It felt like the entire of London had stopped, pausing to hold it's breath and remember.
Today, as my train pulled into Waterloo station, the PA announced that the station would be pausing to observe the silence, at the hour of the armistice itself. Again, it felt like all of London was stopping - there was no commuter rush, no phones ringing - indeed, silence echoed through the motionless hall.
Soldiers in this country matter only in the papers, when they report yet another casualty of government policy. It often feels like a political statement, rather than a motivation of pride and remembrance, to see public figures wearing their poppies at this time of year. And no matter what I believe with regards to the politics and motivations themselves of war, I know that the sentiments which have been called upon for nearly 100years since WWI broke out - pride, sacrifice, honour, duty, courage - those are the most important things that people have given so that today stands like it does.
For every person, in every capacity, in every year, that gave, and still gives, gratitude is too little a return. On any given day, but today especially.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning,We will remember them