Spirit of solidarity will be a comfort to Her Majesty
THE Queen’s entire life has been dedicated to service. It is a commitment that has helped to forge her deep bond with the armed forces, which are also characterised by fortitude and selflessness.
Like the Crown, the British military is an enduring symbol of our national identity, heritage and unity. Her Majesty will have been profoundly disappointed to miss yesterday’s Remembrance ceremony in Whitehall because of her back sprain.
In the build-up to the event, regular bulletins from the Palace had emphasized her determination to be there, despite recent advice from her doctors on the need for her to rest, which meant that she has had to pull out of a number of other engagements.
But Remembrance Sunday has always been a sacred moment in her annual calendar. Her wish to honour the fallen is made all the deeper not only by her constitutional role as Commander-in-Chief, but also by her own experience of enlistment during the Second World War as a mechanic in the Auxiliary Territorial Service.
Indeed, during her long, recordbreaking reign, she has only missed the ceremony six times before: twice when heavily pregnant with her two youngest children and the other four occasions when she was on official visits overseas.
For the last 22 years, her dignified presence has been a reassuring fixture, even though her advancing years had recently prevented her laying a wreath.
So her absence yesterday made the event even more sombre than usual. It is always a heartfelt, poignant day, its time-honoured features reinforcing the sense of loss and respect for past sacrifices.
Nothing could be more beautiful in its striking simplicity than the Cenotaph, a masterpiece designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens, nor more haunting than the Last Post, played with taut precision yesterday as always by the band of the Royal Marines.
But, none of those present could avoid a feeling of both regret at the empty space on the Foreign Office balcony and fervent hope that Her Majesty will soon recover.
That mood was touchingly captured by both the Duchess of Cambridge and the Countess of Wessex as sadness was etched on their faces and tears welled in their eyes.
There was a further ingredient that added to the poignancy of yesterday’s event: the return of the procession of military veterans past the Cenotaph, flanked by the large crowds of respectful onlookers, after Covid restrictions last year had drastically reduced the numbers allowed to attend. There was no sight that stirred the soul more movingly than that of the Chelsea pensioners, many of them confined to wheelchairs but all in their distinctive, gold-buttoned, long-red coats, advancing slowly but purposefully forward. It was also good, after all the ructions and controversies of recent days, to see the politicians put on a united, dignified front as they laid their wreaths in turn at the foot of the Cenotaph.
Our Parliamentary democracy,
through all the storms, still stands firm.
But the spirit of solidarity was perhaps at its most powerful when Big Ben struck 11 o’clock and the two minutes’ silence began. Despite the large crowd, it was heeded with absolute stillness. The only sounds were the gentle moan of the wind through the bare autumnal trees, and occasional croak of a distant bird. Through all the changes in our society, Britain still does military ceremony to perfection. The Queen will have taken a great deal of comfort from that.