KING’S FAREWELL TO THE DOMINION TROOPS

LONDON’S WARM WELCOME

All that the gay flags fluttering in our streets symbolised, all the warmth that rose in our hearts, all the gladness we could put into our greeting, all the pride we felt as Britons since these stalwart sons of our race came from distant town and camp and bush to aid the Motherland in dark days early in the war – these and more we gave to our Overseas troops who marched through London on Saturday. It was the most stirring sight in memory, grander in conception than the spectacles so often staged in Rome’s capital to grace the triumph of a conqueror who had enlarged her dominions. And with what changed circumstances! These men were freemen, blood of our blood, bone of our bone, Britons all. How shall British insularity survive such a sight and experience as London enjoyed on Saturday? It widened our ideas to see them go by, these living witnesses of our greatness in famous days. In their swing and stride, their bronzed, war-worn faces, the regimental colours raised high above the flashing bayonets, which will bear the names of many battles fought in the greatest of all wars, there passed a pageant of the British Empire.

WELCOME AND FAREWELL

London rose to the occasion, pouring in mass into the streets to shout a welcome. It gave both its greeting and farewell. A line in the “Court Circular” the same morning had notified that the King had received the generals commanding two divisions, both of whom rode in this procession, on their departure for Australia. The troops, then, are going home, just as we have extended our greeting to them. The reason it was given so late is not far to seek. These soldiers who marched through the Empire’s capital are veterans of the war. Some few among them had fought since early days, when, after the Germans had been thrown back from the Marne, a trench line was consolidated from Alsace to the sea at Flanders. Others had taken part in resisting the last furious German onslaught; all were in the great attack when the Allied armies, on successive fronts, pressed forward and finally broke the enemy power. They had grim work to occupy them. We saw them as victors after their task was done; sturdy Canadians, deep-set, stiff men, who have made a reputation on the Continent as terrible fighters; long, lean Australians and New Zealanders, lithe and supple, who seem as though they have passed their lives astride their horses; hardy Newfoundlanders, who, for all their military training, remind one of sailor-men (they have made as large a contribution to the Navy as to the Army); bronzed South Africans – climate and occupation have moulded the mass of each into distinct types. The sun came out, changing to brightness a grey day. On a stage raised before the central outer gates of Buckingham Palace, the King took the Dominions’ salute. They took sixtythree minutes to pass. But to all processions there must be an end. From about the Palace we saw the last of the marching troops go out into the streets amid the cheering crowds. Then most made their way to see the sight along Constitution-hill, and hear the roar of many thousands of children’s voices welcoming the King and Queen, who, with their sons, drove that way to give the assembled school-children opportunity for this loyal greeting.