Solemnity and ritual, ancient words and a mother whose grief at the loss of her son was “the worst pain ever”. As St Paul’s Cathedral filled with the sound of the choir as it sang the anthem — Bible verses honouring the dead; another age, another war — Tracey Hazel stepped forward to light the candle of remembrance, the candle that stood for her son, Ben Leaning, and all the other servicemen and women who lost their lives in the conflict in Iraq.
It was a symbolic moment, but in more ways than the organisers of the service of commemoration ever intended. The congregation may have been led by the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh, the front rows of the cathedral may have been dominated by the military top brass with their medals and braid, but for the bereaved families themselves, the ones who really pay the price of war, there is a respect and sympathy that was unheard of a generation ago.
“I wanted to be here for Ben and all the fallen. I feel so privileged,” said Ms Hazel, whose son was killed in 2007 when his Scimitar was blown up by a roadside bomb. “It was so nice they chose one of the parents to do it, as it’s them that are left suffering when a loved one dies.”
Next to the candle stood a marble plaque that had once been the centrepiece of the Memorial Wall in Basra and bears the biblical inscription: “Honourable age does not depend on length of days, nor is the true number of years a measure of life.”
Lance Corporal Carl Stevens, 23, one of the bricklayers who constructed the wall, told the congregation how they built it, how they took it down again when the Army left Iraq, and how it is being constructed once more at the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire. He spoke in halting, unsure tones, the authentic voice of an ordinary soldier amid the grandeur and ceremony of St Paul’s.
He may not have been used to speaking amid such exalted surroundings, but the Archbishop of Canterbury is, and he chose to use the occasion to deliver a message that, for all that it was delivered in moderate and well-tempered language, carried a sharp critique of the way in which Britain went to war with Iraq.
On no fewer than three occasions in his address the Archbishop, who has previously described the decisions that led to the war as flawed, questioned the decision-making process that led to a conflict in which 179 Britons lost their lives.
And there, in the second row, was Tony Blair, who was reponsible for that decision, and his expression — gaunt, solemn, unchanging — gave no indication of what he felt.
If the Archbishop devoted most of his energy to questioning how Britain ended up at war in Iraq, he also praised the troops on the ground for their patient and consistent efforts, and thanked “those who have taught us through their sacrifice the sheer worth of justice and who have shouldered some of the responsibility”.
While the Archbishop chose to question the war, the rest of the congregation by their very presence emphasised the sense of national unity. As well as former heads of the Army, Sir Mike Jackson and Sir Richard Dannatt; the former Defence Secretary Geoff Hoon; and President Talalbani of Iraq, no fewer than 12 members of the Royal Family attended the service, including the Prince of Wales, the Duchess of Cornwall and Prince William.
But honouring the dead, and commemorating the efforts of the more than 100,000 members of the Armed Forces and civilian personnel who served in Iraq, does not mean refusing to admit that mistakes were made. After the service Sir Jock Stirrup, the Chief of the Defence Staff, said: “I think it is fair to say a lot of mistakes were made throughout the campaign by the coalition.”
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