My Uncle Oliver returned from the trenches of the Somme River with a few of his comrades from the Durham Light Infantry. There were a lot that they left behind; bodies that were later to be gathered together and placed in neat rows in the cemeteries of Belgium and France. There they will remain under the green sward with their white crosses until the grand Last Day when everything will be made a lot clearer than it is today.
On Saturday last, a company of good men and myself gathered at the cenotaph in our city. We lifted up our voices and sang a rousing hymn and then preached for a few minutes on the immortal phrase from Kipling's anniversary poem "Lest We Forget".
Not only that we should bring to mind the sacrifice of our troops who laid down their lives in the cause of freedom, but also of the supreme sacrifice of the Lord Jesus Christ who fought the good fight on the cross of Calvary for all man kind.
There were no objections from the passers-by (in fact we had a friendly police cruiser who stayed with us for the whole service.)
It was the way it should be. The Law upholding the right of all citizens to engage in peaceful assembly and those same citizens exercising their right of free speech.
That's what my Uncle Oliver marched to war to protect and I have a feeling that he would be pleased that his nephew was enjoying that hard won freedom.
Jubilate.
Ian
