Ypres

They shall not grow old, as those 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.
- Laurence Binyon, from "For the Fallen"

This piece of poetry was read at Vimy Ridge Memorial re-dedication ceremonies yesterday. It is a solemn bit of writing that can have a significant effect on the listener, especially when read outdoors to a large, silent group.

Two weeks ago, I was reading that aloud to a similar congregation.

In Ypres, Belgium there is a place called the Menin Gate Memorial built as part of the medieval city wall to honour those who fell in the Ypres Salient during the First World War before August 16, 1917. Link for background.

This place was one stop on our tour as the Canadians had played a significant role here (Ypres, is in the district of Flanders). Our guide had scheduled us partake in the Last Post Ceremony that is held 365 days a year (since the end of WWI with only an interruption during WWII) at the Menin Gate. During the event, traffic through the gate is diverted, buglers play the Last Post, various readings are presented and wreaths are laid. Our group was scheduled to lay a wreath on behalf of the Stony Plain Legion and one of us was asked to read the exhortation. I was a bit nervous when Dad asked if I'd like that gig.

Nerves can be overcome, especially if you assure yourself that there will only be a few people there to watch you screw up (should that happen). But the nerves came back when we speed-walked (we were a bit late) our way to the Menin Gate to participate and were confronted with at least 500 people crammed under to gate to watch the ceremony. I was quickly introduced to an organizer, given a laminated sheet with my reading and a wireless mic. Next I was placed beside a small group of women and men smartly dressed in suits and military fatigues and formals.

I was suddenly aware of my unwashed jeans, all-weather jacket and 4-day stubble. But there was no time to worry and soon the ceremony was underway. After a short parade and initial bugling, I was given my cue and slowly walked alone to the centre of the street running though the gate.

Overwhelming. This immense gateway arch. So many people, yet so much empty space around and above me. Facing the buglers, I felt very small not nervous, but insignificant. As I began to speak into the mic, I thought of the words: how they sounded and what they meant.

They shall not grow old.

It felt longer, but it was over quickly and I returned to my spot at the side of the gate. The three students who were placing the Stony Plain wreath soon got their chance to be escorted across the road to the designated place for wreaths. It must have been quite an experience for them too.

As I think back on this trip, this was clearly a special moment. Yes, I felt insignificant, but also honoured and proud. The Menin Gate is a meaningful place and the Last Post Ceremony is a meaningful event. To be a part of it is a rare experience.

The many names on all available space on the Menin Gate.
There was not enough space for all the names of soldiers without graves;
some needed to be written elsewhere.