After the organised chaos and noise of the previous night, Sunday, November 11 was a calmer, quieter and more reflective day as we remembered those who had gone before us and given their lives so that we might be free to live our own lives in the way of our choosing.
At 10:30am the traditional parade, organised by the Rye Branch of the Royal British Legion (RBL), left the High Street to march up East Street and then to St Mary’s church. On the way they passed the Town Hall where the Mayor was waiting, with other members of the Town Council, to take the salute. Having done this, they too processed to the church, releasing several motorists (including one rather impatient one who found it necessary to sound his horn) who, perhaps unaware of this Rye tradition, had decided to choose this moment, of all moments, to drive past the Town Hall and who were finally allowed to proceed on their way.
St Mary’s, as usual on these occasions, was crowded and, for a change, this writer decided to wait outside by the war memorial, with many others for that moment, exactly 100 years to the minute from the time when the First World War finally ended. A maroon marked the moment and all stood for two minutes on this chill, but thankfully dry Sunday morning, to contemplate the 145 Rye citizens who, along with so many others, went to fight but never returned.
Later, after the service in Church finished, and the congregation had joined those already at the war memorial, there were a poignant few minutes while the roll call of the dead was read out – some familiar Rye family names among them – the last post was played and Lawrence Binyon’s verse from his poem, For the Fallen, “They shall grow not old . . . ” was recited by Rye RBL Chairman Col. Kimber.
Wreaths were laid by individuals and representatives of local organisations until the lower tiers of the memorial were a mass of red, following which, and in a voice that would have made my old sergeant major proud, Neale East dismissed the parade.
This scribe was then free to join a colleague and warm up with a much-needed drink in the George and wonder if even this simple pleasure would have been open if fortune in either of the two world wars had favoured the other side.
Image Credits: Tony Ham , John Minter .
Impatient motorist hooting at the Church Parade – that will be one of those selfish people who park on the double yellow lines all day…