At least twice a week a small yellow sign on the side of the road signifies that yet another soldier will be coming to John Radcliffe Hospital for post-mortem following his/her death in Afghanistan. 'Military cortege will take place today. Delays possible'.
Yesterday saw the Repatriation of Staff Sergeant Olaf Schmid of the Royal Logistic Corps. I had seen his young, handsome, smiling face on television, doing what he did best, working to keep people like me free and safe from harm and terrorism and dictators. Yesterday, I found myself in the 'delays possible' as his young body was brought home. His wife, Christine, spoke movingly about her 'best friend' the 'man higher than all others'. Dignified.
The cold streets of Oxford leading to the hospital were lined with the strained faces of young and old; people in wheelchairs, people on walking sticks, walkers, all there to pay their last respects. All wearing their poppies with pride.
I felt moved and honoured to be amongst these people. Rest in Peace.
This scene in Oxford will be re-enacted over and over again; next week the same people will line the streets to welcome the 5 casualties struck down yesterday in Afrghanistan, one only 18 and so young faced he looked like a schoolboy.
Last night I sat by my window watching the fireworks, celebrating 5th November, flashing and banging all around me. I heard the gasps of the onlookers. What is the rockets had not been 'friendly fire', I thought to myself???
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
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