3 August 2014 News/Editorial
Within the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst, lies the Royal Memorial Chapel.
I spent a very happy, and reflective, 2 hours there yesterday, witnessing the marriage of a young Scots Guards officer to a General’s daughter.
The time, either side of the actual ceremony, gave time to observe and consider.
Inscribed on the pillars within the chapel, under the heading of each regiment, were the names of all those officers who had been trained as cadets at Sandhurst, and had fallen in the Great War of 1914-18.
Next to our pew was the Durham Light Infantry, and on the pillar in front, the Wiltshire Regiment, the Duke of Edinburgh’s, amongst the many many others all around the church. The ranks and names of the officers who fell were listed in year order, those in 1914 first, going down the years until 1918, and then some even in 1919 who perished later, from wounds suffered in the previous 4 years.
I was struck both by the sheer numbers (somewhere between 25 and 40 officers in each regiment), by the ages (a preponderance of 2nd Lieutenants and Lieutenants, most of whom must have been intolerably young), and by the fact that the same surnames often appeared more than once, quite probably brothers.
Below the Great War list, on the west side of the pillar next to our pew, was an equally poignant addition of an officer killed recently in Afghanistan.
It was a beautiful day and, as the bride and groom paraded out of the church, through the Guard of Honour of six Scots Guardsmen in magnificent full ceremonial dress, pipes and all, through the milling crowd of guests, towards the War Memorial, the August sun beating down, it was a joy to reflect on such hope and happiness amidst such a glorious memorial to the horrors and tragedies of the past.
We then walked from the church to the reception, with polo being played on our left and the passing out parade ground on our right, outside a marquee (it was hardly needed so stunning was the weather) by the lake.
As a habitual curmudgeon, and complainer about any social gathering requiring my attendance, it must have been the juxtaposition of the present joy of two brave and charming people getting married, in those peerless surroundings, within the background of that catalogue of the slaughter of so many young lives, that made me realise how lucky we are and that my grumpy old man-ness has to stop…...for now.
It was a wonderful day and a privilege to have been included.
Tomorrow at 11pm, exactly 100 years ago, after Belgium had been invaded, Britain declared war on Germany, and, as a consequence, all those young men’s names are inscribed for evermore in Sandhurst’s Royal Memorial Chapel.
It has rained here, 100 years later, Tweed has risen a bit, there are signs of salmon coming into the beats just above the tide, and with more rain forecast this week, fishing may soon begin in earnest in 2014.
When it does, and when you are into a 20lber and that little capsule, the small bubble we all live in, is taking on a rosier hue, spare a thought for the events of 100 years ago and the turmoil that engulfed the world and the millions of lives lost over the following 4 years.
Many of those young Sandhurst officers would have been, like us, keen fishermen.
But, unlike us…..they never had the chance.
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