Respect for our fallen

It was a lovely summer’s evening when we were invited by a couple of fellow boaters, to join them on a trip to see the Last Post ceremony at the Menin Gate at Ypres (or Ieper as the Belgiums call it). We arrived about an hour before the ceremony began, and looked up in wonder at the vast arched structure, on our approach. We had arrived at the Menin Gate, a memorial that supports hundreds of names in order of rank and company, perfectly carved upon it.

I should mention at this point, only a handful of people were milling about, but then minutes before the ceremony began, dramatically and almost instantly, the landscape changed. Hordes of people arrived chatting about and pointing at the memorial structure.

Then respectfully, as one would in a church, boundary ropes were clipped into place, and an elderly gentleman laden with meddles requested silence throughout.

Instantly, the request was met as four old comrades marched out before us, holding flags on poles. Four bugles sounded the Last Post and the ceremony began, a child choir sang, and then a prayer for the fallen was spoken, after which a violinist took a hold of her bow and played a flawless Danny Boy.

Glancing at all the brave names carved in stone, I was almost brought to tears myself. When suddenly I was brought back to the present. There was a persistent man who kept clicking his camera in my ear and on more than one occasion even tried using my shoulders as support for his leg length camera lens. It was like a fly holding a large thermos flask (full mind) trying to land on my shoulders. I even found him knelt around my legs at one point, needless to say I kept them together, just in case.

He even muttered out to whomever he was with (twice), there was a part of me that wanted to spin around and shout (SHOW SOME RESPECT) eyeball to eyeball, the way the sergeant major may have spoken to many a man whose names here are scribed in stone.

Instead, I bit my tongue. After all, he was only annoying the people in our immediate vicinity. So in respect for the people in this life and the next, I buttoned my lip and bowed my head once more.

After a couple more songs from the choir and a final blast of the bugle the ceremony then ended with a rousing chorus from us all of God Save the Queen, a very strange experience whilst stood on a Belgium street.

Overall, to say it was a surreal and moving event would be an understatement. 

Menin Gate at Ypres

Names of the fallen

The Latin phrase means 'To the greater glory of God'. This inscription was composed by Rudyard Kipling

History of the Last Post Ceremony at Ypres

The Menin Gate Memorial to the Missing is dedicated to over 54,000 unknown British and Commonwealth soldiers who were killed in Ypres during World War One.

When the Menin Gate Memorial opened in 1927, the residents wanted to express their gratitude and so at 8pm every evening the local fire brigade send buglers to sound the Last Post and this tradition continues to this day attracting crowds of people from all over the world.