They Shall Not Grow Old

On Friday at 11am, the nation fell silent in remembrance of those who went off to war, never to return. I attended services both on Friday and on Sunday, and both were equally poignant.

Remembrance is a personal thing. I don’t wear a poppy. That’s not disrespectful. I just believe the wearing of the poppy has been hijacked by certain sections of society, for the wrong reasons. I wear mine on the inside. Likewise, I tend not to go to public remembrance services, but wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, every 11th November at 11am, I step outside for two minutes of contemplative and respectful silence.

This year, however, I happened to be on a MOD site on the 11^th so I attended the on-site service. I was amazed at the turn out. Yes, you’d expect the military to be there, but civilians too turned out in their hundreds to pay respect. The service was very moving. Reveille always gives me a lump in the throat, and the two minutes’ silence was impeccably observed. I think the presence of so many military personnel, most of them still serving, made it all the more poignant to me. Most of them would know someone currently in-theatre. A large percentage of them have probably lost a colleague, a friend or a family member in service. It made me realise that remembrance is as much about 2011 as it is about the trenches of the Somme or the Normandy beaches.

Cubs on Parade

On Sunday I attended my first Remembrance parade as a Cub leader.  We had to bribe the Cubs to attend by offering a night hike from Welsh Newton and a sleepover in the Scout hut the night before, but, in fairness, they were all very enthusiastic about attending, a feeling reflected in the smartness of their uniforms and the fresh polish on their shoes. We assembled at Monmouth Castle and proudly marched into town – Thursday’s drill practice clearly paying off – with the local TA and RNR units, the mayoral party, police, MPs and AMs, Scouts, Guides and local schools for a service in glorious November sunshine at the War Memorial. We then attended a very moving service at St Mary’s Priory Church.

I was so proud of the way our Cubs conducted themselves. They showed dignity and respect well beyond their years, but they also enjoyed themselves. They were under strict orders not to wave at the crowd as we marched, but you could see proud smiles crack their faces as family members were spotted en route. Our flag bearer had miraculously transformed from the little **** keeping half the pack awake all night to a responsible member of society! But most of all they collectively just seemed to “get” it. The emphasis of Sunday was very much on the World Wars of last century, with a number of veterans in attendance and laying wreaths. So, I asked myself, what relevance does it all have to an eight year old boy? But, without any coaching from their leaders, they did find it relevant and clearly understood the importance of remembering those who have given their lives.

And that gives me hope that our future is in good hands. Remembrance isn’t, as I have heard some say, about glorifying war. It’s about - to me anyway - realising war’s futility and making sure in future we don’t use it other than as a last resort. And it’s about paying respect to those who decided it was worth making the ultimate sacrifice and who shall not grow old. And if our youngest members of society grow up understanding that, things can’t be all bad.