Thirsk and Sowerby Remember

At the going down of the sun,And in the morning,We will remember them.A week or two ago, I stood briefly in the graveyard of St Mary’s Church at Kilburn, in front of a war grave. Sapper Robert Easton served in France in the First World War with the Royal Engineers. Right at the end of the war, he became ill, was repatriated, and back home on 30 November 1918, he died. He lies at rest now, his life as a soldier and his death marked by a headstone of the regulation size and type. So many of his comrades in arms did not enjoy the privilege of dying amongst their own family. It is the lot of a soldier.  Last Sunday, people gathered in Sowerby and Thirsk to show their respect for the war dead. St Oswald’s Church was completely full for the Service of Remembrance. Members of the armed forces, Miss Ann McIntosh MP, local and district councillors and representatives of the civilian services, honoured those whose names are recorded on the war memorial, and the many more who have perished since 1945. Miss McIntosh read a passage from the Book of Micah, one of the tiny books in the Old Testament. It is a passage that very many would recognize, about a time when disputes between strong nations will be settled, about the yearning for peace, when swords will be beaten into plough shares, and spears into pruning hooks. With troops and army cadets in the congregation, themselves trained or training to take part in wars, this illustrated the tension between our sense that life is the most precious gift we have, and the need sometimes to kill in order to protect lives and the societies that provide our security. Members of the military from our region now fight in Iraq and Afghanistan, places that some would be hard put to find on a map of the world. The struggle in our own back yard, so to speak, in Northern Ireland is mercifully behind us. In the not too distant past there have been conflicts in Aden, Kenya and the Balkans. These campaigns have demonstrated the immense skill of our armed forces, and it is a tribute to them that the arrival of British troops is often welcomed by the weak and oppressed. There is, however, always a cost, in British and Commonwealth lives.In her sermon Nicky Carnall spoke of the need to support our armed services. We should never forget that many, too many, of those who return to this country, bring with them the permanent scars of battle, physical injury or disablement that will last for the rest of their lives. I know that there are many who also suffer mentally from the stress of warfare, a trauma that we can only imagine in the calm and security of our homes. They have no scars; they do not limp, but they have been damaged every bit as much as those who do. Outside the church, on the greens, the morning was dry but very windy for the act of remembrance at the war memorial. Even before the official ceremony, some there had quietly come to leave in the soft ground just a small wooden cross embellished with a single poppy, a very personal and private recollection of a fallen family member or friend. No field guns could be spared to mark the start of the two minutes of silence at 11 am, so the Fire and Rescue Service stepped in with a maroon, which rose above the ceremony and exploded. Its unfamiliar blast shook some of those standing round the memorial; in battle that could be an almost constant sound. In that most silent moment, the eleventh hour of Remembrance Sunday, we gave pause to  consider that useless, massive slaughter of young men which ended 90 years ago, young men who had so much else to offer, so much to look forward to. I have had the good fortune, the gain from others’ sacrifice and loss, never to be on a field of battle, and wish it ever to remain so. Thanks be to those who have undertaken such a challenge. 90 years on from the mechanical routine of sacrificing men and materials, the destruction of towns, countries, armies and navies, it is too horrible not to pause and recall those who, as volunteers or conscripts, served their country as their country wished. The avenue of limes in Front Street has seen this ceremony year after year. Those trees were fresh and young in 1918, not the giants they have grown to now. There was hope in 1918 as well as exhaustion. Over time, the aspirations and promises of the peace conferences have been confounded. The League of Nations failed. The United Nations and the European Union, NATO and SEATO, and doubtless other organizations with names formed from their initials, strive to keep us at peace. And yet there are millions more AK47s now than there ever were plough shares, and the Russians have just announced the deployment of new missiles. While we wish for peace, we still have to be prepared for war. People had gathered, uncalled, at the war memorial or walked into Thirsk to see the march past of proud veterans and serving troops, and to hear the rousing sound of the Royal British Legion band. Many who were there were children, come to watch with their parents. They can inspect the tattered and faded remnants of past battles in museums and special displays, and read about wars on the internet. On this morning they could see local men and women marching with medals on their chests, real people now living quiet civilian lives.We must never forget those who have died for us, or how or why they have died. In the morning, we will remember them.


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