And so they marched again.

And so they marched again today, passed the Cenotaph with their rows of medals showing the campaigns as a mark of their courage.
Of course it was not seen as courage by many of them. They had been conscripted from civilian life to do their duty for Queen and country, for all of us and what ever the task they were ready.

The men and it is largely men are getting older as the great upheaval of World Wars recede into  a distant memory. The men have grown old as their lined faces bravely look to the front, their drill sergeants might have a thing or two to say about their demeanour but never their resolve. The Gurkhas march passed and and the striking statistic that if you had a minutes  silence for each of the fallen Gurkhas you would have silence stretching for over two weeks.

Each group as they passed the Cenotaph handed their wreath to the people who placed the wreath around the base of the Cenotaph. The Marine Commandos and the Parachute Regiment, the Maintenance and Stretcher Parties, the Field Hospital Staff, the Nurses and the Wives and Daughters of men fallen. One wonders as the band lays out its matching beat what these women think of their loss, surrounded by the pageantry and the memories of those who survived, why didn't my man survive and come back to me must be the perennial question.
The leaders and the politicians who acted on behalf of the nation in sending these men to war are segregated with the Queen and her entourage.  Interestingly the leader of HM Opposition Jeremy Corbyn, a pacifist is down in the crowd looking on. Truly a man of the people.
The march draws to an end, reunions and a drink in the nearest hostelry and then away home to rest those aching feet and remember the comradery, often missing today in civvy street.