RAIN OF TEARS

All the angels were crying and their tears came pouring down, so it would seem, judging by the amount of rain that was falling upon all and sundry on this very damp autumnal Sunday morning.

Gazing out from underneath the relative warmth and dryness of my umbrella towards the tall and imposing stone structure of the Cenotaph, and then glancing around me, all I could see was a sea of humanity and wave-after-wave of umbrellas, many just a drab monochrome colour, whilst others were more vividly coloured.

The rain continued to pour down and it added to the solemn nature of the occasion. Then the haunting and distinctive notes of the "Last Post" lingered upon the still air and faded away into the clouds.

All was silent apart from the pitta-patter of the rain has it hit the plethora of umbrellas, and in the distance the sound of a dog barking his own protestations against this downpour. Then for a brief moment the sun crept out from behind a dark cloud and shone onto the west facing side of the Cenotaph.

After the service, and after the march past of a dwindling band of WWII veterans, Regular and Territorial Army soldiers and cadets. Dozens of people made their way onto the steps of the war memorial.

Perhaps the most poignant reminder of why the hundreds of people had turned out in this appalling weather to pay their respects to "The Fallen", was a blood-red wreath of poppies which stood on the top step alongside many other such wreaths. In the centre of the wreath was a small colour photograph of Private Jonathan Young, an 18 year old infantry soldier from the Yorkshire Regiment. A local lad who had recently lost his life in Afghanistan.

Just in front of this memorial is a small grass lawn surrounded on all sides by several small stone and marble monuments to remember past conflicts and wars. I noticed a very young boy who was carefully placing three small simple wooden crosses (with just a single red poppy in the centre of each cross) on the edge of this lawn alongside many other similar crosses. His sister held a "Thomas the Tank Engine" umbrella over him whilst he performed this sombre but important task.

The torrential downpour was perhaps in keeping with the day, as no doubt many tears were shed during the service and many more tears will perhaps be shed in the future has wives lose husbands, mothers lose sons and children lose fathers in some corner of a foreign field.

By Trevor David Betts BA (Hons.)

9 November 2009.

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