Silent Sacrifices

I don't know why I went. I'd never been before. Never wanted to. I'd always watched it on the television at home, alone and in silence. But today was different. Something had drawn me down to London that morning, and as I stood anonymous amongst the dense crowd close to the Cenotaph in Whitehall, I watched as the band of the Grenadier Guards marched past.

The sun shone without any warmth in a cloudless blue November sky. The last traces of the heavy overnight frost had now vanished and the air in the capital was fresh and crisp. I watched as rank after rank of soldiers, sailors and airmen filed past, marching in perfect time, wearing their finest uniforms. Then came the veterans. Men and women in civilian dress, proudly wearing their regimental berets with endlessly polished medals pinned to their overcoats, marched with sombre determination, honoured to be part of the Remembrance Day parade.

As the crowd around me clapped with respectful pride at those filing past, I stood amongst them, invisible, disconnected, wishing so much to be part of the spectacle. To be recognised as one who also had served, who had fought, who had lost comrades, friends, in the service of their country.

But of course that's not possible. I had no tailored uniform, no regimental beret to proudly wear to identify me as one of them, a veteran, a soldier of the crown who had given so much without reward or recognition.

I knew that was how it was of course. It was the nature of the beast. To work in the shadows fighting a clandestine war with no battles and an enemy with no honour and no identity.

I watched in silence as the final wreath was laid against the pure white stone of the Cenotaph then turned and walked away through the sea of people, unnoticed and unwanted. I reached into my coat pocket, took out the three gleaming medals which hung from a metal bar by their ribbons and looked at them. Awarded for service by a grateful nation. At least, they would be grateful if they knew I even existed. Awarded in secret, without ceremony or fanfare for a job well done. A job which had cost so much, for so long. I stared at them for the last time, dropped them in the rubbish bin, turned up my collar against the cold..... and walked away.