The Extraordinary people of Wootton Bassett

I had an other post scheduled for this evening but I have put it off. I have just finished watching a behind-the-scenes story of Royal Wootton Bassett, the Wiltshire town that made news across the world for the show of respect it has given to each and every member of the Armed Forces that has been repatriated after losing their lives in the ongoing war in Afghanistan and Iraq.

I am overwhelmed with sadness and pride. Sadness that we have lost so many young men and women that the town has need of a Repatriation Liason Officer. Pride that an entire town goes out of its way to support the family of those being repatriated, not because they have to, but because they want to. Both the current and former Mayor spoke, with tears in their eyes, of the privilege they had in being able to offer their support to these families. The landlady at the Cross Keys, the pub that is the unofficial HQ for the ‘repats’,  offered complimentary sandwiches and tea and coffee to those members of the family and friends who travelled to witness the repatriation of their loved one because ‘it’s simple human kindness’.

The programme made it easy to see why the town has been honoured with a ‘Royal’ title, the first for over 100 years. For the entire 46 mile journey from RAF Lyneham to Oxford’s John Radcliffe Hospital, people line the route, standing quietly and respectfully by the roadside as the cortege passes. A mobile phone call announces the imminent arrival of the procession at the end of the High Street to the bell ringer in the church. Despite several hundred people lining the streets in respect, you could hear every footfall of the Undertaker walking in front of the coffin. Even watching it at home in my pyjamas, I found myself holding my breath, the silence ringing in my ears and tears pricking my eyes.

I am in awe of the town, which didn’t want the Royal title because they didn’t expect anything for what they do. There is a ceremony to each repatriation, which is highly organised. Everyone knows where their place is: visitors are welcomed by locals and nudged in the right direction; branches of the British Legion are encouraged to follow the lead of the locals who sadly replay the flag-raising every week; those lining the high street step aside when asked to allow the family of the fallen to take their place. Local people are always at hand with an arm and a tissue when tears start to fall. Only once has there been any break from the schedule when, in 2009, a Muslim group planned to stage a protest against the war in the town, a plan which caused widespread outrage and which was subsequently cancelled.

As said in the programme, this is not a parade. It is not about glorifying war. It is about welcoming our troops home with the dignity and respect that they deserve. Despite their deep sadness for their loss, the family of Ranger Aaron McCormick of the 1st Battalion The Royal Irish Regiment, whose repatriation is featured in the film, were at pains to point out how much they appreciated the support and the condolences of the people in the small town on that day. ‘The film is a brilliant tribute to the human spirit – how, in times of such sorrow, strangers reach out to show compassion and respect.’ The town is a fabulous example of the sort of British spirit I would like to teach my children. Sadly, it’s also a poignant reminder that, though Osama Bin Laden is now dead, the conflict continues and our troops continue to lose their lives: Remembrance Day can be any day in Wootton Bassett.

Wear your poppy with pride: be proud of our troops, whether you believe in the War or not. Be proud of the people of Wootton Bassett, your fellow countrymen, for their dignity.