THE SILENCE

Dominion, Volume 25, Issue 81, 30 December 1931, Page 8

THE SILENCE

Remembrance in London

NIGHT-LONG VIGILS Storm-swept Streets (By Nelle M. Scanlan.) London, November 11. For the third day in succession, London has exhibited that fortitude that astounds the world. This was the solemn Pageant of Remembrance; the Silence. England was thrashed by a storm all night through. On the south coast, waves forty feet high dashed over promenades, smashed seaside bungalows, and swept across the streets. In London the wind shook the houses, and the driving rain beat noisily against the windows. It was a terrible night. Yet at midnight, women, middleaged women, mothers mostly, began to congregate at the Cenotaph in White--hall. Determined to be in the very front of the service, to take their place beside the King, if he came, or the Prince of Wales and the ducal brothers, to be at the very foot of- the Cenotaph with its pile of wreaths voicing the Remembrance of the whole Empire, these women took up their stand. Some watched for two hours, while their comrades slept. They watched the storm clouds blow up, squalls followed, then briefly the stars came out. They watched the men, with white sleeves and backs to, their coats, hose down the streets. They listened to Big Ben strike the hours. Dawn came faint and grey, with a chilly wind. By eight o’clock the crowd was thickening. After nine, motor traffic 'was diverted from Whitehall. The sun shone with real warmth. Every bus and tram was crowded. They poured -their thousands Into Trafalgar Square, ■from which you could look down the packed street around the Cenotaph. They were all there, the veterans, ;soldiers, nurses, women workers of 'every organisation. At the last moment, the King was dissuaded from attending. It was at such a service that ho contracted the cold which led to his prolonged illness two years ago. The Prince of Wales placed the King’s breath at the foot of the Cenotaph, and stood a moment in silence. The Bishop and the choir, the band, the thousands of men and women, with their small mirrors, holding them gloft, hoping to catch a reflected vision bf the service and the great ones gathered there. I Big Ben struck, and the maroon boomed out. The wonder of that instantaneous silence. Every foot stopped, every voice was silent. Buses, carts, motor-cars —everything stopped dead ‘where it was. ■ Engines were shut off. [Above the massed thousands, on this the thirteenth anniversary of the Armistice, boomed out the eleven Strokes of the hour by Big Ben. And when they ceased, in that breathless silence was only the whirring of the pigeons of Trafalgar Square. Startled by the silence, they rose on heating wings, and circled round and round pver the heads that were bowed, and the many who were weeping.