By The Headmaster, Simon Eliot Remembrance Day - 11 November 2007

11 o’clock on the 11th day of the 11th month. What does this moment mean to you, especially when Remembrance Sunday is the 11th. What does today mean to you?

My own memories of this moment each year go back to a mish-mash of School services; of poppies; or veterans of WWII and medals and, above all, of the First World War poets.

I was born a few years after the Second War had ended and until fairly recently, I have felt distanced from and untouched by the realities of war. My brother served in Aden during the troubles in the sixties; Northern Ireland was a constant source of danger for servicemen in the 70s and 80s; The Falklands conflict barged in and out of our lives; then came the first Gulf War and the Balkans in the 90s.

September 11, 2001 was the great watershed…. From it flowed the invasion of Afghanistan; the invasion of Iraq and the replacement of Saddam Hussein and, of course, from it and round it lapped the ever-present tide of world-wide terrorism and the threat of violence in any city, including London. We are all affected and involved.

For me, at any rate, reading the newspapers, hearing the radio, watching the television, the engagement of our armed forces in the Middle East is much more real and immediate than anything I have experienced in my lifetime – and yet the closest that I have actually got to service on the battlefield is via poetry, books and the screen.

Remembrance Day and Remembrance services when I was at a School (not unlike Sherborne) commemorated those who had given their lives and limbs for their country in previous generations. Remembering was and is important, not least because I have a strong hunch that the realities of active service remain the same, in spite of the technological advances over the years.

The Royal British Legion safeguards the welfare interests and memory of those who are serving and those who have served in the Armed Forces; it organises the Poppy Appeal to which we all donate money in order to buy our poppies. This year they are running a big appeal on behalf of the veterans and sufferers from the Falklands War exactly 25 years on and in their appeal letter the big heading is:

‘They did their duty – now it’s our duty to honour each and every one of them’.

Those are the words I have used this year on the card with the wreath of poppies which is up at the altar and which the Head of School will place on the War Memorial just outside those doors at the end of this Service.

I am not going to talk about The Falklands this morning – but in 2 Saturdays’ time (24 November) we are fortunate enough to have General Julian Thompson, Old Shirburnian, and Ground Commander during the Falklands War, who is coming to the BSR to tell us first hand about the War. This will be an important occasion to mark the anniversary.

Honouring others. That is what we are doing today. And in order to honour them, we need to use our imaginations to think about them and to appreciate the sacrifice of those who have served in the past and, even more in recent times, those who are serving today in Iraq and Afghanistan, and in other areas of conflict and tension.

Today’s service gives us focus. The list of Shirburnian dead from the houses; the wearing of poppies; the singing of hymns and that haunting anthem; the reading from St John’s Gospel; the Last Post and the two minute silence.

We also heard Mr Robinson read that almost unbearable poem by Wilfred Owen, Disabled.

I chose this because it concentrates on an individual; a young man (the same age as our Upper Sixth) who went to war with high ideals and hope and wanting to impress (especially the girls) – and he has returned to England as a disabled husk of a man with no legs and no hope for the future. He has not been killed but there is a hint that he feels that it might have been better if he had been.

That poem was written in 1917.

Exactly 90 years later, in the Sunday Times of last weekend (2007) there was a new war poem about Rob who, when serving in Basra recently, was part of an attack on a bank and probably killed an Iraqi who burst through the doors. He has found returning home from war to be incredibly difficult – and the poem by Simon Armitage is about the nightmares he now has in England or Albion….

ROB’S POEM

Albion

I was a boy soldier, back when grenades were pine cones and guns were sticks.
I played Churchill’s speeches, fought on the beaches as Vera Lynn sang from the white cliffs,
and I dreamed of a hero’s welcome, of flags and bunting lining the streets,
of drinking for free in every bar, of beautiful women with open arms and white cotton sheets
But instead of klaxons and Union Jacks came sticking plasters to cover the cracks,
and ibuprofen to ease the mind. Without blood or scars or a missing leg you’re swinging the lead;
without entry wounds and exit wounds or burns to the face you’re just soft in the head,
and the British Army isn’t the place for a lying bastard or basket case,
What I did, I did for St George and for England and God; now I sleep in sweat,
slaying the dragon or training the crosshairs on mum and dad and shooting them dead.
Distraction helps. The beast stalks in the day, kept back by the noise and the light,
but after the action, emptiness falls on the Hawthorns and darkness stirs.
Then cometh the night.

But poetry anthologies and newspapers do not quite bring home the immediacy of war and of active service. I feel that we have to look more closely at our own experience and of the context in which we live.

I am told that in 1916, the then HM of Sherborne, Noel Smith, sought and gained permission to go across the Channel to visit Old Shirburnians who were serving on the Western Front. He must have visited camps and HQs; field hospitals and depots – he may even have gone through the trenches to the front line.

I have not applied to the MoD for permission to go out to Afghanistan and Iraq, although I am tempted. I do not think that I would be allowed anywhere near a unit on active service – I would get in the way.

So, instead of going, I have written and emailed. We have tracked down over thirty OS’s, most of them in their twenties, who either are or who have served in the Middle East. I asked them to send me any kind of memory or account; a description of feelings or of an incident; any anecdote, opinion or reflection – and the response has been fantastic.

Not everyone has written because some are currently in Basra or in Helmand province and are not able to email; but some have, indeed, come directly from the front line.

This is not the moment to read all of these honest, punchy amusing and always moving responses but here is a brief selection.

‘….there are two things that have consistently struck me. Firstly, in all conflicts it is those with the least influence and interest who are affected the most and it is crushingly sad when you meet parents, siblings and friends of people killed (by our own side as well) when caught in the middle. In a similar vein, the most important people in any fight are not the politicians or generals, it is the soldiers on the ground who are attempting to execute their orders. I had the privilege to lead a troop of Marines in the invasion of Iraq, the average age of the lads being about 20 - several of them were still only 18. The split second decisions that they had to make on a routine basis, with potentially fatal repercussions for either themselves or others, shows how good they are. It is a mark of the British soldier that separates him from most others in the world that as a junior commander I can trust them implicitly to make the right choice under extreme pressure.’
Tim Archer RM (c) 1992-7

‘…the locals here in Basra seem somewhat keen for us to leave! They display this wish by sending a large volume of rockets and mortars over our camp walls and if this continues, I think my over-riding memory of the tour will be one of constantly diving under tables, rolling under landrovers and generally scuttling about on my belt buckle!

I am surprised at the intensity of the fighting in downtown Basra. Unless it has stepped up dramatically since I arrived (who would blame them) the ferocity of the attacks and the number of incidents just aren’t getting an airing in the British press’
David Crosthwaite-Eyre Blues & Royals (d) 1991-6

Earlier this year, two Royal Engineers led a daring foray into enemy territory in Afghanistan to recover a wounded soldier. The leader of the expedition was an ex member of The Digby (1990-94) Captain David Rigg. He and 3 Marines were strapped to two Apache helicopters and Captain Rigg was flown in under fire to pick up the soldier, who sadly died later of his injuries. David Rigg was awarded the Military Cross (just below a VC).

‘I suppose that what changed the most over my time in the army was my perception of the army itself and what it actually means to wear uniform. …..Wearing uniform is a ‘way of life’, but not the life that I had known. It is a life that is quite literally deadly serious.

When I started at Sandhurst, Iraq was only reaching page four or five in the national newspapers. By the time I left the coalition had emerged victorious from the second gulf war. The army that I found myself in was vastly different to the one I had joined just 11 months earlier.’

On 27th May 2006, Tom and I were briefed for Operation TYNE, a series of troop surges into Basra City. I was marginally senior to Tom and took command of our two troops (24 men in six vehicles). The first of three surges, each of which were due to last roughly six hours, passed without incident.

The second phase began early in the morning of 28th May. As we manned checkpoints and patrolled the city there had been a tangible change in the atmosphere. Two large improvised explosive devices, a number of shootings and innumerable stonings later and the troops withdrew unscathed and prepared for phase 3. Before going out that evening Tom and I had dinner together. Bangers and mash, though neither of us were hungry. We were well aware of the dangers that would face us that night. Our vehicles were lightly armoured and the enemy knew it. The words ‘suicide mission’ were uttered in hushed tones on one occasion. But that is infamously a soldier’s lot: ours not to question why, ours but to do and die…

Tom had phoned his girlfriend to tell her that he loved her. That night while entering Basra from the West, I approached a crossroads from where I intended to head north. At the last second I changed my mind and carried on Eastward. Tom was twenty minutes behind me. I spoke to him on the radio and told him to meet me at a British base in the north of Basra.

As was always the custom in my regiment, the officer led from the front and as such Tom commanded the lead vehicle. He approached the same junction I had passed through and turned north. I was about 500m away when I heard the explosion. There were four in his vehicle. His driver, LCpl ‘Faz’ Farrelly was killed instantly. Tom died just under six hours later. Two were injured, one so severely that he was flown back to England soon after.

Six months later I returned from Basra to England. In that time my patrols had been blown up by roadside bombs, RPG’s and an anti-tank mine. We were shot at by small arms fire on innumerable occasions. I would hazard a guess that I have sat through somewhere in the region of 100 separate mortar and rocket attacks. Some so far away you could barely hear them and some so close that my mouth was filled with the dust thrown up by the blast.

Despite that, every soldier had to steal himself and drive back out of the gates for patrol after patrol. Some believed in fate, others in God and some were just plain scared. I think in my time in Iraq I dabbled in each of those three! So my message to those that will hear you on Remembrance Sunday is: The army is a way of life that requires the individual to live by a code of conduct. This includes selfless commitment, discipline, loyalty, integrity, respect for others and above all courage.

The army of today is not about drinks parties, nor is it about camping in woods with friends. The army of today is about commitment, courage and self sacrifice. When you wear uniform, wear it with pride and remember those that have worn it before you who have sacrificed themselves to this unique ‘way of life’.
Rory Ferguson QDG (b) 1993-98

‘On a personal note you may be amused to hear that out here I share a room with 30 other officers; my neighbour is Olly Biggs (a 93-98) and opposite me lies Nick Stone (a 93 -98). Nick and Olly were Study Mates at Sherborne and find it somewhat disappointing that after 11 years their lives have not moved on! May I finish by once more thanking you for your interest in our doings; it is of great comfort to us all to know that we are being thought of in our alma mater.’
Crispin d’Apice Helmand Province, Afghanistan (g) 1991-96

Simple things mean a lot more as does friendship, when you hear on the radio that you have had casualties, you know who it is on the ground, and the sight of them coming back in covered in blood from a head wound is something that will stay with me for sometime, considering the day before I had been planning a skiing holiday with the same person, he is fine and got patched up then and there.

Letters from home with news, simple things about the weather and gossip from friends all make the time pass. Out here everyone works together and has a united aim, and is out to help each other, something that might be lacking back in the UK. Going out on patrol has its highs and lows, the excitement, the concern, the planning it all mixes in to give a feeling that it is very hard to describe the relief when you return back to camp for a wash in a river and some food.

These are all in a bit of a ramble and is essentially me emptying my mind with a few extra spelling mistakes thrown in for good measure, I hope it proves useful, I still remember the Remembrance Services in the Chapel [and the Abbey], and think of them as important occasions where you can take a step back and think of the fallen as you walk up the steps and have that little quiet moment to start the day, I hope all goes well and the service stays the same as ever.
Captain Nick Stone Green Howards (a) 1993-98

That’s why we keep silent on the steps up to and down from the Chapel – that is our memorial (and it’s precious little to ask) to those who have given of themselves. We pay them respect.

I am sorry that I have left this e-mail to you until the last moment. However, I have in fact returned from a week in Iraq this afternoon (November 2nd). I now work as a Private Secretary to the Secretary of State for Defence, Rt Hon Des Browne MP, and we have just completed a tour of Basra, Baghdad and Erbil in Kurdistan. I therefore held off in case it might have proved interesting to offer my observations on a 'compare and contrast' basis. However, I won't bore you with a lengthy thesis. Iraq is simply too complex to be boiled down into a few generalisations - to wit, the appallingly simplistic coverage of it in our national media. However, I will say that I find myself considerably more optimistic than I have ever been before. In the past two months, attacks on the British Army in Basra have reduced by 95%, the majority of the IED networks in Baghdad have disintegrated or are under severe pressure as the communities that have sustained them start to give them up, and 67000 disaffected Sunni have in the past few months set aside their grievances with the Coalition and are now fighting alongside us and the Government of Iraq against the common enemy of Al Qa'eda. There is still, of course, a hell of a long way to go. But the security situation has genuinely improved, remarkably so in a short space of time. There is now a genuine opportunity - fragile and temporary to be sure, but an opportunity nonetheless - and it is vital that leadership is now shown by the Government of Iraq to bind people in by giving them an economic and political stake in Iraq's future.
Edward Ferguson (b) 1991-96 MoD

We feel relief at having run a hard race well. We feel anticipation at the respite we hope to enjoy back home not only away from danger, but reunited with our families. We feel the understandable relief at having been in harms way and survived, but self conscious and all too aware that not all of us are coming home and that for some the battle goes on: those that still have injuries to bear; those that are grieving the loss of a loved one killed performing their duty, and those that have recently arrived from 4 RIFLES who continue our fight.

Finally there is some trepidation that lives at home may have moved on without us for seven months, that children have grown in our absence and that we ourselves may have changed. I hope regarding the latter for the better and that it will be evident in the imminent homecoming of strong, confident men, at ease with themselves; soldiers who have been tested in their chosen profession and not been found wanting. I also like to think that our cohort of Rifleman annually on November the 11th can look our forbears in the eye with shared understanding and in the knowledge that like previous generations, ours has proved we have the soldierly virtues of courage, fortitude and resolve.
Graeme Ker OC C Coy 2 RIFLES 1993-98

I hope that you feel that these first-hand testimonies from serving Shirburnian soldiers in the Middle East are worthwhile and instructive on this day of Remembrance.

Just before I finish, let me just tell you about an earlier O.S. who won the V.C. and whose name is on that plaque just outside the doors.

He was Charles Hudson; soldier of World War 1 and World War 2 – decorated for valour on many occasions: described as a rebel in this fascinating biography which has been given to our Library by its author Miles Hudson (O.S.), father of a member of the History Department staff Mr Richard Hudson.

Mr Hudson’s grandfather was an astonishingly brave man – he was also a poet and this short poem ‘War’ strikes a poignant, Shakespearian, apocalyptic note.

War

The modern poets say that war’s all dirt,
They fear romance and say it’s otherwise.
They need not seek to disillusion men
Who’ve fought, but only those who stayed at home,
Or going, never heard a bullet crack
The way for these is comradeship in death,
‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.’
There find in one short line the truth of it F
or fighting men. The cruelty, the blood,
The senselessness, the stricken families,
They know are there in stark intensity,
But in this cauldron of revoltant fear
A soldier, forced to dip, will find his pearl
Before he dies or sees his comrades die.

He encapsulates so much of what we remember today – ‘it is our duty to honour each and every one of them.’ and herein lies the spiritual nature of that honouring – it is about faith and I hope that, to repeat my first question, what does today mean to you?

Listen finally to a 46 year old former member of School House, now a Brigadier, who wrote to me last week…

‘War is not a pretty thing. It is easy enough for those fighting back. But it also involves far greater numbers of people who just want to stay alive. It does change people, and I certainly believe that I have a very different outlook on life. It has also shown me that we must all have faith. In my case it was my belief in God, in others it can be faith in their mate who is there by their side and that when everything starts going wrong they will be there for them.’

SHERBORNE SCHOOL REMEMBRANCE DAY SERMON BY THE HEADMASTER, S F ELIOT 11th November 2007