Remembering the fallen

It’s seven AM, I’ve been up for two-and-a-half hours, and the Portland Stone of Whitehall is quite literally glowing a magnificent golden-cream in the cool warmth of the winter morning’s sun. As a student you can imagine that I’m not predisposed to having a great sympathy for waking up at the unholy hour of four-thirty AM, unless for a ludicrously inexpensive flight. But here I am – with another four hours still to wait for what I came for; already starting to lose the feeling in my extremities from the cold.

I cannot extol the virtues of liberty enough – appreciation of liberty is something that defines much of me and my thoughts: I can only imagine that someone who would wish to happily surrender their own liberties, or take away anyone else’s liberty is utterly deranged, or just insidiously stupid. This is why I’m here, waiting for nearly five hours in temperatures that only Antarctic research scientists could ever be prepared for. Our servicemen and women have fought for our liberty (and for the liberty of our Dominions) in the past and continue to do so: I’m here to pay my thanks to them for this incredible gift of truly immeasurable wealth.

Having checked the information for the event with the Department for Culture, Media and Sport, I decided to arrive early in the hope of getting a good viewing point, close to the Cenotaph, our central memorial to the fallen. I couldn’t have imagined that I would have arrived early enough to be at the front of the barriers, about fifteen metres from the memorial itself. Instructed to ‘stand easy’, members of the Royal Gurkha Regiment assembled to my left and, to my right, the Scots Guards; with their enormous

Never had silence been so penetrating and so poignant to me

ceremonial bearskin hats. After representations of several units from different areas of our armed forces had convened, the politicians and the royal family came out of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office building. A better view I could not have wished for – Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II stands at twelve o’clock (in the gap between the obscuring bearskins) – ten metres away, with David Cameron, Nick Clegg, Ed Miliband, Boris Johnson and former Prime Ministers Tony Blair and Sir John Major further in the background.

Never had a silence been so penetrating and poignant to me. At eleven am, on the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, thousands stood together on Whitehall, and indeed across and outside the country, from Enniskillen (where the IRA bombing of Remembrance Day 1987 lends a special significance to the event in the town) to Toronto. A cannon fired. Big Ben’s tolls rang out throughout the precinct. Conversations stopped. The camera shutter noises stopped. Everything stopped. As silence prevailed, every single one of these assembled peoples was united in an intense gratitude, not just to both living and fallen friends and family, but to people whom they have never known and never will know. Through war, we have found undying love, peace, and gratitude. Inscribed on the Cenotaph, are the words ‘The Glorious Dead’ – I can’t help but feel that this is a similar story of intense juxtaposition.

The ceremony then continued through hymn and prayer, and through a huge procession of veterans and their widows. I can tell you– singing our national anthem, with Her Majesty 10 metres away, directly ahead, is something quite extraordinary. Hearing one of the many brilliant marching bands in attendance playing Edward Elgar’s exquisite Nimrod, with so many of our exceptional armed forces surrounding us, was also something I shall never forget. And that is the lesson: we must never forget. For the sake of every person that has fought for anyone’s liberty; we must remember and be thankful. Lest we forget what liberty is.

I would ask you to consider donating to the Royal British Legion, or Help for Heroes, both of which are registered charities which help the families of the fallen, and support those whom have known, and may be bodily and mentally affected for life by conflict; fighting for our ever-precious liberty.