A time for remembrance
Sermon preached in St Salvator's Chapel, St Andrews on 9th November 2008 by Rev Dr David Coulter
Readings: Joshua 24:1-3a, 14-25. and Matthew 25:1-13.
Sermon
Text: Joshua 24: 15 - 'Choose this day whom you will serve.'
On the day of the Armistice in 1918, Lieutenant Norman Collins of the Seaforth Highlanders had a vision:
'I was standing in a trench. I could not put my head up because I was under fire, but above me, at eye level, walking past, were hundreds of boots and puttees. I thought of all those I had known; it was like a panorama of passing people, people from the cadet battalion, through the various training courses and out in France. They went on and on for hours, and I realised it was the dead all walking away and leaving me behind. I felt worried and frightened that they were leaving me by myself. They were marching away into the distance where I would never follow. All the people I knew had gone, except me'.
Ninety years have now passed since the war that was to end all wars came to an end. Millions of souls had been lost for a few metres of soil. Today, it is hard to imagine what life must have been like in the trenches on the Western Front. It was a place where men counted their lives in minutes or hours (not days) as Harry Patch, the last surviving soldier of this campaign, has always asserted. His fervent wish when he saw the sun rising was to watch it set! This was to become his yardstick for life - you must make the most of every day that God gives you - you cannot ask for more.
When you read accounts of those who served in the Great War what seems remarkable is that they endured the apparently unenduring; they suffered the extremes of violence, for an unparalleled length of time. They saw sights that no one should see, endured casualties no one should suffer, and felt a comradeship few will ever experience. They were stripped down to the bare essentials, and had the opportunity, whether they survived or not, to see and understand what was important in life. It was a time when the word of St Matthews Gospel was never truer heard: 'Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.'
It was during one of my first visits to S4, the Military Manager Ward, in the Selly Oak Hospital in Birmingham, that I met a young, good looking Royal Marine called Tom. He sat awkwardly on the edge of his bed and I could see that his torso was heavily bandaged. As we talked he explained to me that he had, from an early age, always wanted to be a Royal Marine. He had joined the cadets but when he left school he immediately enlisted and was one of the few to pass the commando tests first time. Since then he had served with 42 Commando in Norway; Iraq and most recently in Afghanistan where, less than a week ago, he had been shot in the back while out on patrol. That same week he had celebrated his 19th birthday. Here was a bright, articulate and engaging young man, but there was a sadness in his eyes when he said to me: 'Padre, perhaps it is time to do something else!'
In the side ward next to Tom was another critically ill young man called Rory. To visit him I had to gown up and wear surgical gloves to prevent infection. Rory told me how he had been sitting in the back of a warrior armoured vehicle facing his colleague. As they entered Basra City in S.E. Iraq a landmine exploded underneath his vehicle. The blast come up from under the seat and removed his left leg but killed the soldier sitting opposite him. In great detail he described how his platoon sergeant had pulled him out of the vehicle and as he drifted into unconsciousness began to give him life saving treatment. About his life changing experience Rory remarked - 'That day God was looking after me.'
Before I left ward S4 I visited 23 yr old Ben Parkinson in another side ward. His Mother Diane was as ever sitting at his bed side attending to his every need. Ben's vehicle had been blown up by another landmine in Afghanistan. He had lost both legs, the use of his voice and had very limited use of his arms. He has been described as the soldier who survived the worst injuries in modern warfare. But to be a soldier and more especially a Paratrooper was a choice he had made - and I expect that if he had the hindsight to see what would happen to him, he would almost certainly make the same choice.
I have often thought about these brave young men. I wouldn't be surprised if Tom is still serving somewhere as a Royal Marine. Rory I know is now working in the medical centre in an Army Training Regiment and cuts around on his artificial leg. And Ben was last seen proudly wearing his paratroopers red beret and dress uniform, sitting in a wheelchair pushed by his Mum and being presented to Her Majesty the Queen.
In an address to last years General Assembly of the Church of Scotland Padre Angus Macleod reflected upon his last six month operational tour in Iraq in 2007:
'The tempo and intensity of operations, with resultant injuries and fatalities, required chaplains to minister to the shocked and the upset. Chaplains experienced both a sense of inadequacy and vocational fulfilment. A new chaplain commenting on the immediate aftermath of his unit's first fatalities, said: 'That night I felt utterly helpless.' A more experienced chaplain commented: 'I have never felt so useless and so used in one and the same situation.' In the wake of fatalities chaplains were present in ops rooms, at hospital bedsides, with soldiers returning from operations, at the identification of bodies, the clean up of vehicles and the breaking of news. One chaplain reflected: 'In the twenty four hour period, following an incident, where no one wants to say anything, or is able to say anything - it is enough just to be around. Just to be part of the family.' The most significant moment for another chaplain came 'when my Commanding Officer trusted me enough to cry in front of me.'
What do soldiers think about when they are alone in the dead of night and deployed into a forward operating base? Reflecting on his time in the First World War Private Freddie Hodges of the Lancashire Fusiliers recalled:
'At night you're all alone, you might be the only man in the world. Your battalion's fairly near you, but you and your mate are the only two sentries awake and you look around and there's nothing going on. You look up and notice the stars, and I'd try and remember the names of the constellations. Similarly, in the day you'd see white clouds lazily drifting over the battle front. Hear larks singing overhead, and nature just getting on with life, a bank of poppies sheer red, yet all around men were dying, and you couldn't help but be struck by the contrast between the horror that man had created for over four years and nature which proceeded in its quite, beautiful way.'
In the forward operating bases in Helmand province today's soldiers, sailors and airmen still on occasions take time to reflect. They worry about their family and friends. They care about death and survival. They worry about being injured and the casualty process. They strive to see beyond the loneliness and the isolation and pray that they will have the courage to do their duty and to do it well; to not let their mates down; and to do the right thing, at the right time, by making the right choices.
On a routine patrol in Afghanistan on 27 Jul 2006, Cpl Brian Budd's section from the 3rd Bn Parachute Regt was engaged by two Taliban fighters in the centre of Sangin Province. In the ensuing firefight two of Budd's section was hit and one collapsed on the open ground exposed to enemy fire. Cpl Budd led an attack on the enemy positions forcing them to flee across an open field where they were successfully engaged, to save his wounded colleague. This courageous action, undertaken at great personal risk, broke the enemies will to fight and allowed his wounded colleague to be evacuated to safety where he received life-saving treatment.
A month later on 20th August, Cpl Budd was again leading his section on a clearance patrol near Sangin District Centre with another section on his left flank. Undetected he pushed through some thick vegetation, and identified several Taliban who were preparing to attack. The Taliban however spotted their Land Rover and the element of surprise was lost. Cpl Budd led an attack under withering enemy fire. Three of his section were hit while the rest took cover but Cpl Budd despite being badly wounded himself continued moving fwd, attacking the enemy, rushing their positions while the rest of the platoon, inspired by his leadership reorganized and attacked, forcing the enemy to withdraw. Cpl Budd subsequently died of his wounds.
I had the privilege of officiating at the Service of Repatriation for Cpl Budd, at RAF Brize Norton and met his wife who was heavily pregnant with their second child and who that day celebrated her 23rd Birthday. Cpl Budd was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross for his inspirational leadership and supreme valour.
It was Queen Victoria herself who proposed the simple motto 'For Valour' on the Victoria Cross which encompasses those qualities of mind, which enables a person to face danger with boldness, firmness; courage and bravery. Ninety years after the Armistice of 1918, we remember before Almighty God those who in times past have fought and died in the service of their country. But also we should spare a thought and remember with thanksgiving all those who this day are deployed on operational duty and who too may be called upon to risk life and limb in the service of others. AMEN