Remembrance 2015

I am relieved the Remembrance marathon is over - there seemed to be a competition as to which media outlet could make us feel more guilty or humble.  The whole Disney show ended with the preposterously pretty child in immaculate but ill fitting fatigues saluting as if he were simultaneously reading the instructions from the Drill Manual.  I'm sorry but the coverage was about as morally inspiring as being hit over the back of the head with a sock full of wet sand.

I didn't go to my local town on Sunday morning as usual but I did stand in the garden on Tuesday 11 November and reflected.  I recalled, from 1972, a retired Squadron Leader, a customer of the Inn For All Seasons whose self-control occasionally deserted him leaving him a gibbering wreck in the corner of the bar.  He had, of course, been an involuntary long stay guest of the Japanese. And my friend and mentor from Marham days, Cec Room, who, having been similarly incarcerated by the Germans, walked back, starving, to friendly lines through a terrible winter when his hosts released him in panic in the face of the advancing Red Army.  I contrasted my own relative good fortune; 35 years of service, never having to drop a bomb or fire a gun in anger and felt very humble.