THE TWO MINUTES’ SILENCE

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20290, 24 December 1927, Page 7

THE TWO MINUTES’ SILENCE

SOLEMN CEREMONY AT THE CENOTAPH. TRIBUTE TO THE GLORIOUS DEAD. (From Our Own Correspondent.) LONDON. November 16. For the tepth time, November 11 and the word “ ATmistice ” have borne that wonderful significance which they never had in years before 1918. On this tenth occasion one was struck with the fact that the customary solemn ceremonies wero oven more carefully observed, and greater numbers than ever came together to honour the glorious dead. Further, the custom of buying and wearing an artificial poppy has grown so general that it would need great courage for a man or woman to be seen abroad on Armistice Day without one. The suburban railway stations supply a test. Of the hundreds of people who aro waiting for their trains on the stations between the outer suburbs and the city not one is to be seen without the emblem of the day. Their Majesties the King and Queen set the example by each paying £IOO for their poppies. The Prince of Wales paid a similar amount, and the Duke and Duchess of York each paid £25. Generally, more generous sums were paid by the public; and Lord Haig’s Fund to meet the urgent needs of ex-scr-vico men should bo augmented this year by a record amount. It was a cold but clear day for the ceremony at the Cenotaph. People were concentrating in Whitehall very early in the morning, and when the traffic was diverted and the armies of constables took their places shoulder to shoulder along tho footpaths and across the streets to keep clear tho great central square, many thousands had already taken up their stand. Long before 10 o’clock the mass of humanity might bo seen from Parliament square to Trafalgar square. It is perfectly clear that the great majority of these people aro genuine worshippers, for a mere handful of people actaully sec anything of tho ceremony. The rest stand in the cold waiting, with nothing to see on the level of their eyes but their immediate neighbours. Above them tower tho stately Government offices, every window occupied. Perhaps most of them catch a glimpse of the upper part of tho Cenotaph itself, and their thoughts are concentrated on that, giving them patience. That the vigil has its trials was shown by the numbers of women whom the ambulance had to bear away on stretchers. From the privileged position on a platform just beside the Home Office door one could look down on tho waiting people—the majority women —and wonder at their patience and their courage. Shortly after 10 o’clock tho sound of bands could bo heard, and the tramp of marching columns as tho contingents of the Royal Air Force, the Royal Navy, the Royal Marines, the Territorial Army, the Mercantile Marine, tho Guards, all wearing greatcoats, moved to their appointed places around the square reserved with tho Cenotaph as the central feature. Only one splash of vivid colour could be soon. It was from tho scarlet greatcoats of a small contingent of Life Guards. Then, in deep columns to tho cast of tho Cenotaph, other bodies of men and women formed up. General Sir lan Hamilton, in top hat, but wearing his medals, led" the contingent of tho British Legion. Beside him in an electrically propelled chair was Major Jack Cohen, M.P., hon. treasurer of the British Legion, who has lost both hia legs. Other well-known officers in mufti wearing their medals were ranged behind them, and a deep column of ex-soldiers. Then there were the Legion of Frontiersmen, representatives or tho special constabulary, firemen, busmen, and members of the W.A.A.C., the W.R.N.S., and the V.A.D., all in the uniforms they used to wear in the days of tho war. THE HUSHED HALF-HOUR. Beforo half-past 10 tho military and other organised contingents were in position, and the massed bands of tho Guards’ Brigade wero playing solemn music which swelled and recoded and doubtless could be heard from one end of Whitehall to tho other. Tho half-hour before tho great silence is a solemn time, for all tho movement of troops is ended and the sharp commands of the officers cease. There falls on the people an expectant hush so that tho music re-echoes down Whitehall, giving that sacred atmosphere associated with such an occasion. Big Ben boomed out tho third quarter of tho hour, and choir boys emerged from the Home Office door, the Bishop of London bringing up the rear. At 10 minutes to 11 the King, accompanied by the Prince of Wales and tho Duke of York, walked out from the Home Office to the north aide of the Cenotaph. His Majesty, who wore tho undross uniform of a iioldmarshal, saluted the memorial, and placed a largo wreath of Flanders poppies with loaves of bay and palm at tho base. Ihe Prince of Wales and the Duke of York also deposited poppy wreaths, and they wero followed by the Marquess do Bendana, who placed a wreath for the Queen of Spain, and representatives of the Duke of Connaught, Princess Louise, and 1 rmcess Beatrice Then followed the Minister (Mr Baldwin). Mr Ramsay MacDonald, Mr _ Lloyd George, and most, of tho Secretaries of State. On their light tho representatives of the dominions formed up in two linos. Tho Govornment wreath was laid by tho Prime Minister, Lord Birkenhead added one as Secretary of State for India, Mr Ormsby-Gore another for the colonies and pi electorates. Further tributes were laid by efich of tho High Commissioners. Sir James Pair placed a wreath of lilies of the valley and ferns beside tho others. The i»scription read: “To the memory of the gal ant men and women of the Empire who lai down their lives in the Great War. From the Government and people of New Zca land ’ THE SILENCE.

\S tbe last wreatb was placed in position Big Ben began the chimes of the hour As the 11 single notes were slowly boomed out one heard the sound of a gun near at hand, and others at a distance. For 15 seconds after the last note of the hour had been struck distant clocks were still heard, and then the silence fell. From the crowd not so much as a sob or a cough was heard. Only one child made a feeble cry and was silent. The people were inanimate until tne second signal gun released the tension. The trumpeters of the Royal Air Foice sounded the “Last Post,” and a bnet service began. The bands of the Brigade of Guards played the hymn O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” and the crowd joined in singing the familiar words to a noble tunc. A collect was read, the Lord’s Prayer recited, and the Bishop ot London pronounced the blessing. The troops were again called to attention, the buglers of the Royal Marines sounded the Revielle, and the ceremony closed with a verse of the National Anthem. The King, after the singing died away, stood for a while before the Cenotaph. Then he saluted the symbol of sacrifice, and walked back into the Home Office, accompanied by the Home Secretary. PROCESSION OF FLOWERS.

The ritual ended, there began the seemingly endless procession past the Cenotaph. The troops saluted the monument as they marched oil. Blind men standing in their motor coaches turned sightless eyes to the Cenotaph as they passed. All the organised contingents followed in procession. The old brigade of Mens heroes, with their medals on their civilian clothes, marched by, some still limping, some propelling themselves in invalid chairs. The contingents of women swung by, and responded with military precision to the command Eyes'left!” “Old Bill,” the London omnibus that was first to he landed in France and was used throughout the war, now polished and bright as though it had just left the factory, was driven slowly Then came the women and children, with their wreaths and bunches of flowers. Most of them were wearing the service medals. Some wore the Military Cross or the Military Medal. The flowers they carried were mainly chrysanthemums. It may be that the season is a good one for these flowers, for the spectacle was a beautiful one, more beautiful than usual. The colours —white, red. bronze, and yellow—mingled delightfully down that long procession. And so as each one passed she placed her tribute at the nase of the monument, and before the day was done the reserved space of the base was a veritable sea of flowers. UNKNOWN WARRIOR’S GRAVE. Under flic rays of a winter sun tiie scene in the Abbey was one of rare beauty when, at 10.30, the service began. Colour is lauking on these occasions, apart

from the predominant note of red—the robes of the clergy and choir, the roses in the single floral tribute at the head of the grave, the parde’s flag from the Somme which flies overhead, and the Flanders poppy. The black marble slap stood out conspicuously on the bare stone floor. Nothing was upon it, till shortly before the organ’s first peal was heard a simple bunch or Flanders poppies and lilies of the valley was deposited. Anonymous, it bore the words: “ Remembering you, we will be brave and strong.” Close about the warrior’s resting place were assembled a large company of the bereaved mothers and widows for the larger part, and with them some veterans. Many women proudly wore the medals of husband or son who had made the great sacrifice. Presently entered a body of a . hundred or more men drawn from aH the services, passing the grave with military tramp; the procession of clergy emerged from the dean’s door and moved towards the sanctuary; the choristers took their places. The service opened with tne Contakion of the Faithful Departed: “ Give rest, O Christ, to Thy servant with Thy Saints, where sorrow and pain are no more,” which one associates only with the Abbey. Always it is sung unaccompanied. The Lesson was from Wisdom iii, 1-9, and there followed the Te Deum and the Lesser Litany,, and, the Lord’s Prayer was said. Then there was the two minutes’ silence. Big Ben beat out the strokes of the hour. Thereafter was only the hush. Confined within walls, as all stood with bowed heads, the Silence seemed even more intense than it is in the streets. For the two minutes no one moved. Again the boom, relieving the great tension. The organ began to play the notes of “0 God, Our Help In Ages Past,” the most familiar of hymns, but after the deep emotion of the minutes just passed few of the congregation joined in the singing till the first verse was almost finished.

The dean, with uplifted hand, from the head of the grave, gave the Blessing; the National Anthem was sung; and echoing down the church from the Chapel of the Kings, wherein the Confessor lies, came the appealing notes of “ Revielle.” The brief service was over. THE RIVER CLYDE. At Lloyd’s, where the famous Lutine bell was sounded at 11 o’clock, the notice board on which casualty reports are displayed bore a mute reminder of the part the merchant navy played in the Great War, for by a strange coincidence there was a report stating that the steamer Angela was in a serious position off Flamborough.

This is not the first time she has been in a “serious position,” although her present name obscures the fact that she was formerly the gallant River Clyde, which was deliberately beached under gunfire at the Gallipoli landing, and from which the storming troops poured through wide openings cut in her sides. She is now owned in Spain, but, despite her foreign flag, many who knew her on active service will be glad to know that she is now reported safe at anchor in the Humber.