Day Seventeen: Wednesday, 17 November 2010, Part One

Well, here it was: my last full day in the UK.   I got up early, to make the most of my remaining hours in London.

 I decided to attend one more Communion Service at Westminster Abbey at 8 am, so I stopped at the Pret A Manger shop on Victoria Street (photo left), and feasted on yogurt with berries, orange juice and fruit cup.  It was all very tasty, and filling--and the price is right!   If you enjoy natural and local food without additives and preservatives, Pret is for you.   And everything is freshly prepared, every day.

Back out on Victoria Street, I made my way to the Abbey, and entered the West Door.  I inquired where today's Communion Service was being held, and a staff member motioned me to follow him.   I threw another silent kiss to the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior, as I walked through the silent Abbey--and discovered that today's Communion Service was being held in the Lady Chapel within the awesomely beautiful Henry VII Chapel (photo right). I was the first one to arrive, and took the opportunity to sneak behind the tombs of King Henry VII and his Queen, Elizabeth of York, and pause before the RAF Chapel.

Returning to my seat, the Service began shortly thereafter.   There were three other participants and me, plus the priest and his assistant.   Halfway through, two more people showed up.   I forgot to pick up a Service leaflet at the Chapel door, so I was unable to participate fully in the prayers.   But I do remember the priest praying for the Royal Family--and he included Prince William and his fiancee Catherine Middleton, which made me smile.   I added a silent, but hearty, AMEN to that.

When it came time to receive the elements, I noticed there were kneelers set before the Lady Chapel altar, so I followed my fellow worshipers and knelt down.   When I received the bread and wine, I still felt that sense of peace I'd had in the previous two Communion Services--even though I could hear the rush-hour traffic outside, along with Big Ben's chimes.

At the end of the Service, I took one last lingering glance at the Henry VII Chapel, and stepped out into the Abbey itself.   I chatted with the priest, who said to me: "Good to see you again."   When I looked at him again, I realized it was Nick, the priest from the first Communion Service at St Faith's Chapel!   It was a nice surprise.   I thanked Nick again for the Service, and told him it was my last full day in the UK, and how sad I was to be leaving.   But Nick spread his arms out and said, "You can take us with you---you're a part of it (meaning the Abbey)!"  I never considered that before.

Nick wished me a safe journey back to the States, and I slowly made my way back to the West Door.   But not before stopping to light a candle and pray for Prince William and Kate--and to say goodbye to the Unknown Warrior, and to the Remember Winston Churchill marker.  

At the gate to the Abbey precincts, I met the staff member who led me to the Lady Chapel and told him how sad I was to be leaving the next day.   He, too, wished me a safe journey--and he took my hands in his and assured me I would be greeted warmly upon my return to the UK.  And a very kind black woman who was at the Communion Service asked me to give greetings from the UK to the people of the United States!

As I left the Abbey, I had an urgent need to visit the Loo, so I walked back to my hotel room.  Thankfully, it wasn't a long walk....  When I got to my room, I noticed that Housekeeping hadn't arrived yet; I did what needed to be done quickly, and went back out again, where I took a few photos of the outside courtyard of the hotel.

This time, however, I walked to the opposite end of Buckingham Gate, towards the Palace.   I took a few more photos of the Palace, and also noticed the satellite trucks from the major news organizations (I recognized NBC's by the peacock logo) parked just outside the Palace gates (photo right).  They were obviously hanging around for the latest developments on the Royal Engagement.  I also noticed a few extra tourists gazing through the fences outside the Palace.  Were they hoping for a glimpse of Kate Middleton and Prince William, perhaps?

I decided that my next stop of the day would be the Churchill War Rooms, on the other side of St James' Park.   I walked over by the lakes between the Palace and Horse Guards Parade, watching the wildlife that was hanging about: ducks, geese (photo left), a couple of swans, seagulls, squirrels--and the two pelicans that I'd noticed the day before.   It was a cold and windy November day, but I didn't mind the cold at all.

At the end of my leisurely walk through the park was the Churchill War Rooms.   This was where Prime Minister Winston Churchill and his Government sheltered during the worst days of The Blitz on London, in 1940 and 1941.  The Museum is run by the Imperial War Museum.   I paid my admission fee, picked up a Guidebook, and one of those self-guide mobiles like I had at the Abbey, and off I went.

It's difficult to describe the feeling one has, being underground like Mr Churchill, his wife Clementine, his staff, the Cabinet, and other military and civilian officials were in those dark days.   The rooms by and large are not spacious, so everyone was virtually on top of one another; life must have gotten testy at times.   And the lighting wasn't very bright, either.   And in those days, nearly everyone smoked, so the air quality must have been terrible--even with all the wall fans circulating the same air over and over again.   Plus: there was only a large slab of steel and concrete between the War Rooms' ceilings, and a direct hit by German bombs.

Still: it was safer to be here than at nearby 10 Downing Street.   Or at the Houses of Parliament: the Commons chamber was destroyed by a German bomb during The Blitz.

Mr Churchill really didn't like this underground shelter.   He only used it when the German bombing raids made meeting above ground too risky.   And he'd drive his security people (as well as Clementine!) nuts when he'd sometimes take visitors and go to the roof of the building above, to watch the air raids as they happened!   Poor Detective Thompson, his bodyguard.....I could see him having fits of fear, when Mr. Churchill did that!

The largest room by far was where the War Cabinet met (photo above left).  The room itself--as were most of the major rooms on the tour--was behind walls of Plexiglass.   But one could see where the Prime Minister, his Deputy PM, Clement Attlee, and other Cabinet members sat around the table.  I saw one of the Red Boxes, where important State documents were transported and kept.   A big map was on the wall behind Churchill's chair.   Small round lights hung from the ceiling.

And when I walked round the corner for the next stop on the tour, I suddenly came across a mannequin dressed as a Royal Marines guard!  During the war, one couldn't go into the Cabinet War Room without passing such a guard (photo right).

Near the Cabinet Room, I discovered Mr Churchill's wartime office (photo left).   It was a rather tiny room, with a desk and chair.  The sign above the room said QUIET PLEASE.   I wouldn't have wanted to disturb the Prime Minister while he was busy; I might have received a scowl!

Next major stop was the Transatlantic Telephone Room, from where Mr Churchill would call US President Franklin D. Roosevelt during the war.   At that time, there was no Transatlantic telephone cable, so communications between the UK and the US were made via a radio-telephone link.  

During the war, access to this link was strictly controlled, and secrecy was monitored by a civilian at either end, who would listen in on the conversation.   If either leader said anything which was forbidden to be talked about, the line would be cut--and both of them would be advised not to mention the subject!

I have to confess that the 'Churchill mannequin' on the phone line looked an awful lot like the man himself (photo right).   It was a bit startling to see!

Next was a long room holding an exhibit called Undercover: Life in Churchill's Bunker, which told the stories of many of the staff who worked in the Cabinet War Rooms.   There were recorded reminiscences by his female typists and other staff members, documents and some fascinating artefacts--including an ' Elsan chemical Loo' (left)!   

One of the more amusing observations was made by General Sir Alan Brooke, Chief of the Imperial General Staff: "It was in every way an excellent battle Headquarters, with only one fault: namely, its proximity to Winston!"

Another interesting artefact I found in this room was a long black coat in a display case (photo right).   It was worn by Mr Churchill, but not during the war: it was during the "Siege of Sidney Street" in January 1911, when Churchill was Home Secretary.   A gang of Latvian thieves attempted to break into a jewelry shop in London's East End on 16 December 1910; an adjacent shopkeeper heard the ruckus and contacted the City of London Police.   Nine unarmed officers--three sergeants and six constables--arrived on the scene, and the gang's leader opened the door.

The officers assumed the man didn't speak English, and asked him to go get someone who did.  Time passed, and the sergeants became impatient, so they entered the building--and didn't notice a man standing at the top of the staircase, who then opened fire with a pistol.   The sergeants fell wounded: one of them died instantly, while the other died later in hospital.   When the gang tried to break out of the building, one of the constables was also wounded, and died soon afterwards.   During an intense search afterwards, several of the gang members were arrested.  But two or three of them got away.

On 2 January 1911, an informant told police that the remaining gang members were holed up at 100 Sidney Street, Stepney.   Concerned that the gang would get away, and expecting heavy resistance to capture, 200 armed officers converged on the area, and the siege began.  At dawn the battle continued.  The defenders had superior weapons and a lot of ammunition in store.  

The Tower of London was called for backup, and word got to the Home Secretary, Winston Churchill.   He soon arrived in person to observe things close at hand, and to offer advice.  He also called in a detachment of the Scots Guards, to assist the police.   Six hours after the siege began--and just as an artillery piece authorized by Churchill was put in place--the building caught fire.   When the fire brigade arrived, Churchill refused them access to the building, and the police waited outside for the gang members to come out.   They never did; two of them were found dead inside afterwards.

Churchill was criticized for his role in the siege.   There is a contemporary newsreel film of the incident, showing Churchill ducking behind a building, as a bullet went through his top hat, coming within inches of killing him.   I shudder to think how history could have been changed, via this rather reckless behavior on his part!   Clementine probably wanted to wring her husband's neck for what he did....

My next stop was in the 'living quarters' area of the Cabinet War Rooms.   Here, I found the rooms used by Brendan Bracken, one of Churchill's closest friends and advisers (photo left); Detective "Tommy" Thompson, Churchill's bodyguard; and Major Desmond Morton, Churchill's personal assistant.

They were all rather tiny rooms, with basic furniture: a dresser, bed, and desk and chair.   And all of them had chamber pots beneath the beds: the only 'official' Loo was used by the Prime Minister himself!

In the same corridor, I peeked inside the Prime Minister's Dining Room (photo right), which had a small round table and four chairs, a lower table and a small serving table.   This is where the Churchills dined, along with any visiting guests.

Nearby was Clementine Churchill's bedroom (photo left), with a cheery pink duvet on the narrow bed, and a small flowered-chintz-covered chair.   An effort had definitely been made to brighten up what could be a rather drab and dreary room!

Not far away was the large Kitchen (photo right), where the meals were prepared for the occupants in the Cabinet War Rooms.   This was a long and narrow room, too, with two large 1930s electric stoves, a big white sink, and lots of interesting period kitchen utensils.   The sink even had some white dishrags hanging over it, as if to say the day's dishes were ready to be washed for the next meal.  

The scent of food cooking must have filled the nearby corridors and rooms constantly.   I'd rather smell that than tobacco smoke any day.

Next was the "Chiefs of Staff Conference Room" (photo left), where the Imperial General Staff met.  It was a long and narrow room, dominated by a green cloth-covered table, and maps covering the three walls.   On one wall with a multi-paper world map was a portrait of King George VI.  

I can well imagine all the discussions about war strategy that took place around this table.   Some of them must have been quite lively....and no doubt lasted well into the night.

Close by was a rather empty room, with a few chairs scattered about.   By now, my feet were quite sore from walking on concrete floors in the wrong shoes, so I gratefully sat down.  Over a sound system, I heard the voice of Mr Churchill himself, in one of his wartime speeches broadcast over the BBC.

It was really awesome to listen to; how many visitors to the Churchill War Rooms today have actually lived through those dangerous years between 1940 and 1945, and heard the Prime Minister speak 'live' over their wireless sets?   It must bring back a lot of memories for them.   And very close by is the actual room used for those BBC broadcasts.  The mannequin seated in the chair looked very real!

My next stop on the tour was the Secretaries' Room (photo left), where the female typists worked.   There were several manual typewriters on small desks, plus a small electric switchboard.   This room was part of a section once used to accommodate the typists, the Joint Planning Staff, and the Home Defence; the last-named were put in place when the threatened Nazi invasion of Britain appeared imminent.    There were living quarters for Churchill's Cabinet Secretary, Sir Edward Bridges, and Churchill's personal Chief of Staff, General Hastings "Pug" Ismay, and their private secretaries.

Next to this section was the Telephone Room (photo right): a rather large room at that, with tables and desks, and very real-looking mannequins in period uniforms.

I would love to know how the Imperial War Museum got hold of so many period artefacts: how many of them were found when the War Rooms were reopened in the 1980s, and how many were donated by people who lived through the war?

The next major stop on the tour was the Map Room--and the short Tunnel (photo left)  one had to walk through to get there.   It wasn't a long walk, but the Tunnel was covered on three sides by steel 'waffle' containment walls; I suppose it was to support the wall in the event of a German bomb striking the War Rooms?

On the other side of the Tunnel was the huge Map Room: it contained many desks and tables, and quite a lot of telephones in different colors (black, red, and green).

 On the walls were huge maps, covered in stickpins.   One map showed the naval convoy routes across the Atlantic: Britain's wartime lifeline.  Another was of Java, Thailand and the Pacific theatre just before the end of the war in the Far East.  Next door, in the Map Room Annexe, was a huge wall map of the Soviet Union (photo above right).   Stickpins and cotton lines showed the front lines in Russia, dating from the German invasion in June 1941 to the fall of Berlin in May 1945.

In a nearby, smaller room, I noticed what looked like charts on the wall (photo left).  They were lists of strikes by Hitler's V-1 'flying bombs' on London in 1944: where they landed, and how many casualties they caused.  

It was very sobering to read the numbers of civilian dead and wounded these bombs caused by these first intercontinental missiles.   I imagine more than a few Londoners were ready to say "Enough already!"

The last major stop on the tour was Winston Churchill's bedroom.   It contained wall-to-wall carpeting, and a small standard Civil Service bed.  

On the bedside table is a large metal canister, into which Churchill could throw his cigar stubs (photo right).   He didn't use it as a bedroom much during the war: only on three occasions.  In 1940, he preferred using the Railway Board Executive's comfortably-equipped conversion of a disused Tube station at Down Street--where he could enjoy his habit of two baths a day, a proper toilet system--and a good stock of fine wines!   The maps on the wall showed possible landing grounds in Britain for the Nazi armies in 1940.

Churchill did, however, use his room here for visits to the Map Room and for Government business, when he was forced to meet underground.   He also delivered four of his wartime speeches here.   His wife Clementine also broadcast speeches from here to Russian listeners, on behalf of the "Red Cross Aid to Russia" charity.

My final stop at the Churchill War Rooms was the Gift Shop.   Here, I bought a US-compatible DVD recording of Mr Churchill's State Funeral in 1965.   I was happy to find this; the copies at the Imperial War Museum were only compatible for UK DVD players.

I really enjoyed my visit to the Churchill War Rooms.   I confess there were times when I thought Mr Churchill himself would appear in the rooms, or walking about the corridors.  The Imperial War Museum is to be highly commended for all the work put into restoring this site.   It is definitely a place to return to again and again!

My next entry will be about my final UK site to visit: the infamous Tower of London.   It deserves its own entry by itself!

Day Sixteen: Tuesday, 16 November 2010

I woke to a very cold November morning: my next-to-last day in London.   The sun was shining, which made the cold much easier to bear.   This day, I was off to visit one of London's most interesting sights: the Imperial War Museum.

After I showered and dressed, I stopped at a nearby Pret A Manger shop (not the large one near Victoria Station--but a smaller one closer to the hotel) for breakfast, before joining the morning throng heading to Westminster.

I decided to make a stop again at Westminster Abbey's 'Field of Remembrance', to take some more photos of the memorials, such as the one for The Queen's Royal Lancers. (photo left).   Workers on their way to the Houses of Parliament or Whitehall also stopped to look at the memorials.

This morning, I decided to take a scenic route, through Victoria Tower Gardens, on the west side of the Houses of Parliament.   There were still leaves on the trees, and several walkers and joggers were out and about too.   The walkers were taking lots of photos across the River Thames.  The light was perfect for 'atmospheric' photos!

The River Thames was covered in fog, caused by the warmer water and cold air above.   It really made for some wonderful photo opportunities.   Everything looked so mystical, almost like one of Turner's water scape paintings.   The buildings seemed to literally float out of the fog: Lambeth Palace, the London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the leader of the worldwide Anglican Communion, looked like it had stepped out of a medieval picture (photo right).

The London Eye, further downstream, looked like a toy wheel climbing above the fog.

During the early stages of my walk, I came upon a very interesting sculpture--and a very famous one at that: French sculptor Auguste Rodin's The Burghers of Calais (photo below left).   It depicts an incident in 1347 in Calais, France, during the Hundred Years' War .  

Calais had been under siege by the English king, Edward III, for over a year.   After Edward's victory over the French at the Battle of Crecy in 1346, he laid siege to Calais, but the French King, Philip IV, ordered the town held at all costs.   But Philip could not lift the siege, and starvation started to take its toll of the inhabitants, and eventually it was decided to surrender the town.

King Edward offered to spare the town, if any six of its leading inhabitants would surrender themselves to him, presumably to be executed.   He demanded these six men walk out of Calais almost naked, wearing nooses around their necks, and carrying the keys to the town.   Led by Eustache de Saint Pierre, one of Calais' wealthiest citizens, he and the five other emaciated men stripped to their breeches, and walked to the city gates.

At that moment, Edward's Queen, Philippa of Hainault, intervened and persuaded her husband not to execute these men, as she felt their deaths would become a bad omen for their unborn child.   So Edward showed mercy, and the men's lives were spared.

Rodin completed his original of the sculpture in 1889, and it can be seen today in Calais' town square.   The sculptor only made twelve copies of his work, and they are displayed in Paris, New York City, Washington DC, Copenhagen, Philadelphia, Tokyo, Stanford University in California, Belgium, Switzerland, Seoul--and here in Victoria Tower Gardens, London.  This particular copy was cast in 1908, and placed in the Gardens in 1911.

It's a pretty awesome sculpture; I've always been fond of Rodin's work, such as The Thinker and The Kiss.

Leaving Victoria Tower Gardens, I walked up a flight of stairs onto Lambeth Bridge, and started my journey to the Imperial War Museum.   I passed by commuters walking to their jobs in central London.

I also stopped along the way, to take a couple of photos of the Houses of Parliament, enshrouded in the river fog (photo left).   Without boasting, I think they came out rather well.

At the south end of Lambeth Bridge sits the London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury: Lambeth Palace.   It was situated behind a high wall, so I couldn't see much of it.   I did, however, glance through a couple of open gates, to glimpse its gardens, and several of its outer buildings.   I'm not certain if the general public has access to the gardens.

The Imperial War Museum is located on Lambeth's main thoroughfare: Lambeth Road.   It is both a residential neighborhood, and also hosted a few small businesses, like restaurants.   Some of the residences were post-war high-rises called 'council estates' (so called because the local town council runs them; I think they're sort of like public housing in the US).   The ones I saw looked neat, if not very picturesque.   A couple of smaller hotels could also be found here.

After about a half-hour's walk, I finally came upon the Imperial War Museum, which sits in a large park (photo left).   The Museum was founded in 1917, during the First World War, to document the war effort of Great Britain and her Empire..   It was first housed in the Crystal Palace at Sydenham Hill, and was opened to the public in 1920.

In 1924, the Museum moved to the Imperial Institute in South Kensington, and eventually acquired its present home in 1936.   It occupies the site of the former Bethlem Royal Hospital in Southwark--which had become a notorious mental institution.   It's where the world bedlam comes from: a corruption of the name Bethlem.

Royal Navy guns, taken from two ships: the battleship HMS Ramillies and the monitor HMS Roberts.   

I tried taking a photo of the guns from the front, but the rising sun behind it made that difficult; so I had to take the photo from the backside (photo right).

I arrived around 9 am, but the Museum didn't open until 10, so I wandered around the park in the rather frigid air.   The grass glistened with frosted dew, as I watched a couple of people play with their dogs.   I chatted with one lady who was tossing a big toy to her very frisky dog.   The dog was definitely getting a lot of exercise, just racing about.

The Museum also has its own chunk of the infamous Berlin Wall on the grounds (photo left).   So many different places have pieces of this once-deadly Wall in their possession: the West Point Museum at the United States Military Academy in New York state, and even a Western New York office building--just to name a couple!

I also found an interesting monument (photo right) on the grounds.   It was dedicated to the memory of the 20 million citizens of the then-Soviet Union who died in the Second World War (the monument was erected before the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1990).   The inscription was in both English and Russian, and the monument was decorated with flowers, and a red-white-and-blue Russian flag made of flowers.   They must have been laid the day before: Remembrance Sunday.

Very soon, the Museum opened its doors, and in I went.   It's quite a compact place inside, for such a massive building outside: its ground-floor exhibit space was full of military artefacts.

The first room I entered centered on the recent discovery of a mass burial ground containing Australian and British soldiers near the town of Fromelles, in France: scene of a really horrific First World War battle on 19-20 July 1916.  It was the first full-scale battle fought by the First Australian Imperial Force; it's estimated that 5500 Australian, and 2000 British, troops were killed and wounded.   The Australian losses in this one battle were equivalent to the total Aussie losses in the Boer War, Korean and Vietnam Wars combined.

This room described the efforts being made to identify the dead here as much as possible, and give them a proper burial in the new Commonwealth War Graves Commission cemetery being created near their original burial site, at Pheasant Wood.   I saw artefacts that were found in the grave: some personal items, utensils--things like that.

A few of the dead have been identified, thanks to DNA.   But I don't know how many more will be; the efforts will be ongoing for the next few years.  But at least these men will not be forgotten.

In the main ground-floor exhibit area, I saw some really awesome stuff.   Above my head, I could see several First and Second World War aircraft: a Royal Flying Corps (predecessor to the Royal Air Force) Sopwith Camel (photo left), an RAF Spitfire fighter, a German Heinkel fighter, and a US 8th Air Force P-51 Mustang fighter.  

And standing on the floor and towering above me was a WW2 German V-2 rocket, with its side open and showing the inner workings of this deadly weapon, which rained destruction on London in 1944 (photo right).   Hitler thought this 'wonder-weapon' would be the thing that would win the war for Germany.   But it was implemented too late to affect the war's eventual outcome.

And nearby was a more recent reminder of war: the remnants of a car from Baghdad, Iraq, after a homicide bomb had gone off in it.   The 'car'--or what was left of it--was totally flattened and mashed down, with just the frame showing.   I wonder how many innocent Iraqis had gotten killed standing or walking nearby.

In the back of the room, I saw a US Jeep, a British 'Churchill' and US 'Sherman' tank from the Second World War--and the personal Western Desert campaign tank (it is a Grant tank) of British Field Marshal Bernard Law Montgomery himself.  

The top entrance of the tank had a sign with the name 'MONTY' in fancy script--with a photo of the man himself surveying the ground from that very entrance during the Second World War (photo left).

Montgomery is a person one either admires or loathes: from what I have read about him, he was much admired by his men in the British Eighth Army in North Africa--and he was a real handful for US generals like Dwight D. Eisenhower and George S. Patton.  No way one can be neutral about Montgomery....

Upon leaving the main exhibit area, I had to make a decision, as to which major war to explore.   Would it be the First World War, or the Second?   It wasn't a hard decision this time: I chose the First World War, since this UK and Europe trip had a special concentration on that conflict, after visiting Ypres, Vimy Ridge, and Tyne Cot Cemetery in Belgium.   Not to mention the fact that my mother's family was living in Germany between 1914 and 1918.   And my mother herself was born in 1917, and she and her family endured much suffering with the rest of the German civilian population.   I felt that I needed to learn more about the First World War, to honor her memory, and that of her German family.

So--off I went to explore the First World War exhibit.   I found lots of things to look at: uniforms  of the various Allied (photo right) and Central Powers armies; military equipment, flags, weapons, diaries and other writings.   I found painted portraits of famous figures, such as the German Field Marshal Paul von Hindenburg (photo left).

Some of the displays were very poignant: there was one describing the story of the British nurse Edith Cavell (photo below right).   She was born near Norwich, England, a daughter of the local vicar, and received nurses' training in London before being recruited as the matron of a new nursing school in Brussels, Belgium.  She was visiting her mother in Norwich when the First World War broke out, and she decided to return to Brussels, and her nursing school.

When the Germans occupied Brussels in late 1914, Nurse Cavell began sheltering British soldiers and helping them to escape to neutral Holland; in late 1914, she became part of an underground resistance network which helped over 200 Allied soldiers to escape--which was in violation of German military law.  

Nurse Cavell was arrested in August 1915, and charged with harboring British soldiers.   She was imprisoned and court-martialed for aiding British and French soldiers, as well as young Belgian men, to get out of Belgium and go to Britain.

Nurse Cavell was condemned to death, and shot by a German firing squad on 12 October 1915.   She was buried near St Gilles Prison, where she had been kept, but after the war her body was brought back to Britain.   After a memorial service in Westminster Abbey, Nurse Edith Cavell was buried in Norwich, at Life's Green.   Her death was used by the Allies in their propaganda campaign against the Germans, as an example of their cruelty towards women and children.

Edith Cavell's strong Anglican beliefs compelled her to aid both German and Allied wounded during the war.   Among the many memorials to her is a statue adjacent to Trafalgar Square in London, near the church of St Martin-In-the-Fields.   Engraved on the monument's base is part of a quote attributed to Nurse Cavell: "Patriotism is Not Enough; I must have no bitterness nor hatred towards anyone".   She said this to an Anglican chaplain, who had been allowed to visit her in prison, and give her Communion before her death.

In the display case, there was a photo of Nurse Cavell with her two dogs.   One of them, named "Jack", is shown stuffed and mounted in the display case (photo left).   After his mistress' death, Jack was brought to England and adopted by Mary the Princess Royal, daughter of King George V.  

Also in the display was the cap worn by Nurse Cavell while she was in prison, along with some lace.

Nearby was a very interesting display of trench signs made by Allied soldiers--to keep themselves, and their comrades, from getting lost on the battlefield.   Some were cynically amusing, like "Suicide Corner"or "Tattenham Corner"; others pointed towards various towns near the battlefield.   These signs covered one big wall (photo left).

 Nearby, I also saw a display that included a small square of painted wood, which was a tiny remnant from the destroyed medieval Cloth Hall in Ypres: the very same restored Cloth Hall I'd seen the week before.  One can make out the Lion of Flanders symbol in the photo (right).

Some of the displays were amusing: there was one with a collection of "Toby mugs": collectible porcelain mugs portraying famous people in the war (photo left).   I could make out Kaiser Wilhelm II, Austro-Hungarian Emperor Franz Josef, British Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig--and possibly British Secretary of State for War Lord Kitchener.   They were a cross between true portraits, and caricature.

And to top it all off, I also discovered the amusing side of the First World War section: within a display describing the effects of the war on the British civilian population, there was this sign (photo left)!   Today, we might see it as a form of class snobbery; during the war, however, it was really serious business.

When I came out of this section, I decided to head three floors up, to visit a special exhibit on the Nazi Holocaust.   There was a sign at the doorway stating that it was not suitable for very young children to see, as it was rather graphic in spots.   And no photography was allowed in this exhibit.

Even though I have seen and read a lot about the Holocaust--and visited the Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial in Jerusalem, Israel, and the Dachau concentration camp in Germany--I wanted to visit this exhibit.   I heard recordings of speeches by Adolf Hitler and other Nazi leaders, and watched videotapes of survivors' accounts telling the stories of their families' fates.   On display were many letters and documents, and horrific things like instruments of torture used by the Nazis, and parts of a railroad cattle car used to transport Jewish people to the death camps.   There was even a full-scale replica of the death camp of Auschwitz-Birkenau: right down to the crematorium and the rail tracks leading to the gas chambers.

This exhibit also covered the history of anti-Semitism dating back to the end of the Roman Empire, when the Roman church created the first Jewish ghettoes in Italy, other forms of discrimination against Jews in European society, and the terrible massacres inflicted on the Jewish people by so-called 'christians' (small 'c' used purposely).   I also saw some very graphic photos of some of the atrocities committed by the Nazis on Jewish people: mass graves with hundreds of bodies, remnants of the dead in the crematoria after the Nazis fled.

No wonder the Museum did not recommend a visit here by young children.   And there were a lot of school groups in the Museum at the time; I heard their shouting and running about, while in the First World War display.   But there was none of that coming from this Exhibit.

As I was leaving the Holocaust exhibit, I noticed a list of names that formed an Advisory Board which created and supervised the exhibit.   On that list was my friend Sir Martin Gilbert, who is a leading historian on the Holocaust.   He and his fellow Board members did an excellent job on this exhibit.

By this time, it was around lunchtime--and I was in great need of a rest room.   Plus, my feet were really killing me, after walking on concrete floors for a couple of hours.   I did find a W.C. (the British call them "Water Closets"), and was able to get off my feet for a few minutes.   That felt great, I can tell you!

When I emerged from the W.C., I stopped by the Museum's Gift Shop and bought a few things: several fridge magnets, a First World War music CD, and a tiny bear wearing a pilot's suit.

I dodged the schoolkids flying round the shop, and decided it was time to head back to central London.  I had a marvelous time at the Imperial War Museum!   If one is really into military history, this is the place to go in London.

I took my time retracing my steps along Lambeth Road, and across Lambeth Bridge.   I walked along Millbank Street, and stopped in a park next to Westminster Abbey, where I sat down and pulled off my shoes to rub my aching feet.   I watched the traffic roar by for a little bit, and took a couple more photos of Westminster Hall across the road.

 Eventually I got up and headed for the Abbey, where I bought a muffin and some lemonade from a stand outside the Abbey precincts.  It was around 2 pm, and I was ravenous with hunger.   I'd not eaten since breakfast!   While sitting under a nearby tree to eat, one or two pigeons flew down to look for crumbs.  I tossed a few bits to one-and soon I was surrounded by a flock of the creatures, flying round my head (I could swear I felt a wing brush past my face!)!!!   They were a bit too close for comfort, and I finished my food quickly--and demanded the pigeons "GO AWAY!"

My hunger pangs now assuaged, I got up from my seat and walked back down Whitehall, to the Horse Guards Museum, where another group of tourists gathered to get photos of the beautiful black horses, and their riders, in their guardposts.   I got a few more photos of the horses, for good measure (left and right).   The Blues and Royals were on duty today, wearing their bright red cloaks.

I then retraced my steps back towards the Houses of Parliament--but turned onto King Charles Street, to go to the Churchill War Rooms.   When I'd had breakfast with Sir Martin Gilbert the previous week, we had made plans to meet at the Churchill War Rooms, where he would take me on a personal tour.  It was going to take place around 4 pm, so we arranged to meet near the entrance of the museum.  I got there a bit early, so I sat near a memorial to the victims of a terror bombing in Bali in October 2002, to wait for Sir Martin.   There were a lot of Government staff members out and about, so I felt safe.

I also noticed pelicans sitting on an island (photo left) in nearby St James's Park.   What the heck were pelicans doing in chilly London, in November?  And where did they go, when winter would inevitably arrive?

Four o'clock came and went.   And no sign of Sir Martin.   When I think about it now, I wonder why I didn't call his number on my mobile phone.   But I didn't.   I didn't find out until after my return to the US what had happened: he had been held up with work on the Iraq War Inquiry, and had misplaced my mobile number.   He emailed me to say he wouldn't be able to come--but since I had no email access, I never got the message until well after the fact.   He felt badly about being unable to guide me on the Churchill War Rooms tour.   And so did I.

I waited as long as I dared, as it was getting dark, and eventually gave up.   I decided then to attend Choral Evensong at Westminster Abbey.   And I'm glad I did!  The service didn't start until 5 pm, so I had a little time to visit the Abbey's Bookshop again, where I bought more stuff--including a collection of magnets containing Shakespearean curses!   It was hard not to bust out laughing at some of them ("Thou cream-faced loon!" has to be one of my favorites).   And what were Shakespearean curses doing in a church bookshop??

I then stuffed my purchases in my backpack, and left the Bookshop to enter the Abbey at the West Door.   There was already a good-sized group waiting to go inside.   And also out on the street facing the Abbey were several engines of the London Fire Brigade!   I did see a couple of Fire Brigade members enter the Abbey in full kit.   But no smoke or (heaven forbid) fire was found.  Maybe it was a false alarm?   Eventually the All-Clear was given, and we went into the Abbey for Evensong.

I followed the crowd through the Nave (giving a tiny wave to the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior) and then into the Choir, where we were seated in the stalls.   I was directed to the top row and sat in the Commonwealth High Commissioner's stall; another person near me sat in the Canadian High Commissioner's stall.   I figured there were around 100 people in all in attendance; some were seated in chairs situated below the High Altar.

At 4:45, the organist in his high perch above the Choir softly played a selection to get us into the proper frame of mind.   My own mind was taken up with glancing around the Choir, and up to the ceiling.

Then, about ten small boys dressed in red robes, white surplices, and ruffs round their necks entered the Choir silently, and took their places in stalls opposite me.   Suddenly, I heard male voices in song coming from the vicinity of the West Door: the men and boys of the Abbey Choir, processing in to take their places for Evensong.   They began with an Introit, sung in German, by Johannes Brahms.   It was followed by Versicles and Responses composed by an Elizabethan composer named Thomas Morley; an arrangement of Psalm 37--and a Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis arranged by one of my favorite English church composers, Thomas Tallis.   The Choir sang this a cappella, and it was absolutely heavenly!

An Anthem followed, sung in Latin by the Choir, by the Elizabethan-era composer John Taverner; it included a prayer for Queen Elizabeth I.   This was followed by a spoken prayer, for which the congregation knelt; those of us in the stalls had to pull out narrow kneelers situated in front of us--and do so without making a lot of unnecessary noise.   Not an easy thing to do.   And the kneelers were narrow; I had to make what is laughingly called 'the Anglican crouch': half-sitting, half-kneeling.

The Prayer was followed by a response version of Psalm 39: the boys would chant one verse, and the men would respond with the next.   No instrument was played.   It made me think back to when there were monks present at Westminster Abbey: this is how they would sing the Liturgy of the Hours together: morning, noon and night.   The congregation stood at the end for the "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost..." prayer.   This was followed by a final Hymn, and then the choir filed out silently.   The congregation sat for a few moments of reflection, before filing out of the Abbey.

Strange thing is: the congregation didn't sing at all in this service.   But who needed to, when there was this magnificent Abbey Choir in full voice?   I felt literally enveloped in their singing, accompanied by a powerful sense of peace; I also felt I was participating in a service going back hundreds of years, when there were monks here in the Abbey.  

 It was an incredible and moving experience for me.   And I am so glad I attended Choral Evensong at Westminster Abbey.

As I followed the participants out the West Door, I inconspicuously threw a kiss to the Unknown Warrior and wished him "Good Night", and I shook hands with one of the participating clergy and thanked him for the service.  I then went out into the London night, for the walk back to my hotel.   I was jarred back into the modern world with the car and foot traffic.   But that sense of peace didn't leave me the rest of the evening.  I got some dinner, and turned in for the night.

All in all: it was another great day.   I knew the following day would be my last on this visit, and I faced it with mixed emotions.   But that's for another blog post.

One thing I have forgotten to write about: when I returned to my room and turned the TV on, the BBC News started off with some very happy news: Prince William and his longtime girlfriend Kate Middleton finally announced their engagement this day!!   I was absolutely floored by this news; I threw my arms in the air and said "Hurrah--ABOUT TIME!"   What a way to end the day!

Day Fourteen: Remembrance Sunday, 14 November 2010

"At the Going Down of the Sun, and In the Morning,

We Will Remember Them".

This day was unlike other Sundays in the UK.   It was Remembrance Sunday, where the British once again paused to remember their war dead, in churches large and small, and in civic services.  

For me personally, it was another unforgettable day in London.

It started out gray and chilly, but rain-free, as I walked from my hotel, up Victoria Street to Westminster Abbey, in hopes of attending its special Remembrance Sunday Service.   I didn't have time to eat breakfast beforehand, as I wanted to be sure to get to the Abbey in time before the 10:30 am service.   When I arrived, I spent time in the Field of Remembrance, taking lots of photos of the various 'fields' placed by regiments, Service support units, and veterans' organizations.

But before that, I had a chance to chat with two UK Second World War veterans, who were waiting to attend the Abbey service (photo left).   The fellow on the right was a Scot who served in Italy with an English unit; I think he lied about his age in order to enlist.

I wished I'd gotten their names.   But before I left them, I took their hands in mine and thanked them for their service.   They were pleased with that.  And I have the feeling the Scot was trying to flirt with me....!

Off I went to the Field of Remembrance.   There were lots of photo opportunities here.  And there were a lot of people about, pausing to look at the names on the Memorial crosses, and also waiting to be admitted to the Abbey service.   I saw both elderly veterans wearing their Service medals, and young current Service personnel, including some rather dashing (and boyish-looking!) Royal Navy sailors.

Memorial Wreath In Honour
of the British Army.
Field of Remembrance, Westminster Abbey.

It was absolutely staggering, how many 'Fields' there were, 'planted' on the Abbey green.   One saw memorials for all sorts of units in the British Armed Services: historic regiments, Support Services, units made up of Second World War or Korean War veterans.   There were 'Fields' for Dragoon Guards and Dragoons, Life Guards and Household Cavalry Regiments, the Hussars, the Lancers, London Regiments, and various Royal British Legion plots.   

Some of the names were rather whimsical, and so totally British: the Memorable Order of  Tin Hats is just one; another is the Old Contemptibles: the original British Expeditionary Force in the First World War; these men were the survivors of the pre-war British Army, which was made up of career professionals.  

The name "Old Contemptibles' comes from a comment made by Germany's Kaiser Wilhelm II, who was dismissive of the small British Army sent to fight German forces in Belgium and France.  In 1914, he supposedly issued an order to '....exterminate the treacherous English...and walk over General {John} French's contemptible little army'.   Hence, The Old Contemptibles.

The UK Services Personnel 'Field' was quite large.   Many of the poppy crosses displayed photos of men and women who were killed in both Afghanistan since 2001, and in Iraq after 2003 (photo left).   

Other UK Service Personnel "Fields" included those 'Unknown Soldiers' who were probably killed in both World Wars, whose remains were never found, and have no known grave.   I imagine they represented many of the names I saw on the Menin Gate Memorial in Ypres.   Those were located on the Green on the Abbey's North side.

I also saw 'Fields' for several other countries: Australia, Canada, New Zealand--and even the United States.  The 'Field' for Canada (photo right) was almost as large as the one for UK Service Personnel killed in Afghanistan.   Many of the poppy crosses had photos of the Canadian Forces personnel who've died in Afghanistan since 2001.

There were also poppy crosses for Canadian Forces members who died in both World Wars, and in Korea.

I lost count as to how many photos of the Field I took that morning.   I couldn't take enough of them, they were all so poignant.

Memorial Wreath for the Royal Air Force.
Field of Remembrance, Westminster Abbey.

 I noticed a lot of uniformed Armed Services personnel around the Abbey, and I was afraid I would need a ticket to attend the service there.   For a few moments, I almost decided to attend the same service at St Margaret's Church next door.

But I took a chance, and went to the Abbey's West Door, and inquired whether I did need a ticket to attend.   Thankfully, it was not the case!   I was escorted to a few rows of 'non-reserved' seating right beside the Choir Screen, on the right side.   I found a seat in the very last row, and sat down to wait, and observe the scene around me.

The Abbey slowly began to fill up, while I watched.   I saw many Armed Services personnel in their dress uniforms, and veterans of past wars with their chests full of medals.   I also noticed many of the women were dressed up, and wearing very fancy hats (although nothing that could be considered 'over-the-top').   I must admit I felt a bit under dressed, even in my best black trousers and black dress shirt!

Soon, a middle-aged British couple sat down next to me, and introduced themselves; their names were Jenny and Adrian.   Adrian was a Second World War veteran; he told me he served in Italy, and he wore several Service medals.   I chatted with them quietly before the service began; I shared with them about my wreath-laying 'duty' in Ypres, and my breakfast with Sir Martin Gilbert.   I must admit they were impressed by that.  When I thought about our encounter afterwards, I felt like a shameless name-dropper....

The service itself began promptly at 10:30 am.   It started with the Lord Mayor of Westminster, Judith Warner, being conducted to her seat in the Choir, and was soon followed by the clergy and choir of Westminster Abbey  in procession from the West Door.   The congregation stood and sang O God Our Help In Ages Past--all the verses.  And it was sung robustly by all present.

After a Bidding prayer by the Dean of Westminster, John Robert Hall, the Abbey Choir chanted Psalm 46: "God is our hope and strength; a very present help in trouble....".   This was followed by a reading from Isaiah, Chapter 65, by the Lord Mayor of Westminster:

"For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.  I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in My people: no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress.  No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime; for one who dies at a hundred years will be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred will be considered accursed.  They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit.  They shall not build and another inhabit: they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of My people be, and My chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.   Before they call I will answer, while they are yet speaking I will hear.  The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent--its food shall be dust!   They shall not hurt nor destroy on all My holy mountain, says the Lord".


The next hymn, "Thy Kingdom Come, O God", was the first unfamiliar (to me) hymn in the service.  I listened to the melody of the first verse, and then sang the subsequent verses.  This was followed by the next Lesson, read by Rev. Dr. Nicholas Sagovsky, Canon in Residence, from Romans Chapter 8:

"What then are we to say about these things?  If God is for us, who is against us?  He who did not withhold His own Son, but gave Him up for all of us, will He not with Him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect?  It is God Who justifies.   Who is to condemn?  It is Christ Jesus, Who died, yes, Who was raised, Who is at the right hand of God, Who indeed intercedes for us.  Who will separate us from the love of Christ?  Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?  No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him Who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rules, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord".


As the congregation remained seated, the Abbey Choir sang the Anthem, its text taken from Revelation 21: 1-4.   It is one of the most moving sections of the Bible, and was particularly so on this day:

"And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea.  And I, John, saw the Holy City, the New Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God.  And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain; for the former things are passed away".


I hope that last verse brought some consolation to those in the congregation, who might have lost a family member in Afghanistan during the year.

Then followed the Intercessions, led by the Rev. Michael Macey, Minor Canon.   After that came another unfamiliar hymn, "Judge Eternal, Throned in Splendour".  The words were beautiful, indeed.  Then the clerical and lay Procession--including Official Representatives of the Merchant Air Service, The Merchant Navy, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, the Royal Air Force, the Royal Navy and the Army--moved to the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior, located just inside the West Door (photo left).   The congregation all stood, as the Dean read this prayer:

"O Lord our God, Whose Name only is excellent and Thy praise above heaven and earth: we remember in Thy Presence those who laid down their lives in war.  May they find fulfillment in Thy eternal Kingdom; and grant that we may dedicate our lives to the causes of justice and freedom, for which they died: through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen".


The Abbey Choir then sang one of the most moving pieces of music I've ever heard: The Kontakion For the Dead, which sounded very much like a Russian Orthodox chant:

"Give rest, O Christ, to Thy servants with Thy saints: where sorrow and pain are no more; neither sighing, but life everlasting.  Thou only art immortal, the Creator and Maker of man: and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and unto earth shall we return, for so Thou didst ordain, when Thou createdst me, saying, Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.  All we go down to the dust; and weeping o'er the grave, we make our song: alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!  Give rest, O Christ, to Thy servants with Thy saints: where sorrow and pain are no more: neither sighing, but life everlasting".


By now, it was 11 am.   From the outside, we could hear Big Ben sounding the hour, followed by a loud blast which shook the Abbey: it was an artillery piece fired from Hyde Park, to signal the start of the Two-Minute Silence.   I heard a couple of scattered coughs; but otherwise, it was total silence in the Abbey.   And the same Silence was taking place not far away, in Whitehall at The Cenotaph.  That was where HM The Queen, the senior Royals, the Prime Minister, other Government and Military leaders, and members of the public were participating in their own Service of Remembrance.

When the Silence ended, the Abbey Choir sang the famous verse from First World War poet Laurence Binyon's poem For the Fallen:

"They shall grow not old as we that are left grow old

age shall not weary them nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,

We will remember them".

And everyone present, including myself, repeated: "We will remember them".

We all stood, as the first notes of The Last Post sounded through the Abbey.   Tears rolled down my cheeks--and then Jenny gently touched my shoulder, and pointed to the Choir Screen above me.   As I looked up, I could just see the front edge of the bugle sticking out above the wall.   The Bugler was right above me!   As the final note slowly died away, the Bugler suddenly sounded Reveille, which rang throughout the Abbey.

Here's a YouTube video of
the Remembrance Sunday Service at
The Cenotaph in Whitehall.
The Last Post is included in the video.

Next, the congregation sat back down, and the Choir sang, in Latin, a Renaissance chant by English composer William Byrd (one of my favorite composers), with words from the Apochryphal book of Wisdom: "The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them.  In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: but they are at peace".   This was followed by the Dean leading the congregation in reciting the first half of Francis of Assisi's prayer, Lord, make us instruments of Thy Peace, followed by The Lord's Prayer.   

After the prayers came the last unfamiliar hymn sung by the Abbey Choir and the congregation: Christ Is the World's True Light, sung to the more-familiar tune of Now Thank We All Our God.   Again, I semi-sang the first verse, and then felt more confident in joining in with the last two verses.

The service ended with The Blessing, followed by the singing of God Save the Queen.   I sang along, as, I suppose, an 'honorary Brit' for the day.   As the Processions left the Abbey, the congregation remained standing, and then after bidding farewell to Jenny and Adrian (with whom I shook hands, and I gave Adrian a kiss, in thanks for his military service), I followed the crowd out towards the West Door.   On the way, I briefly stopped before two young Army men dressed in splendid formal uniform and thanked them for their service.

As the congregation passed round the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior, many placed poppy pins on the grave in respect.   I found one at the outside edge of the Tomb and bent to pick it up and place it--and, in regaining my balance, accidentally grasped one of the flanking candlesticks by the Tomb, and almost knocked it over--and it was a lit candle to boot!   What an embarrassment that moment would have been!!!

As I left the Abbey precincts, my original plan was to walk up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square, where I would meet my British friend Myles and his daughter Megan, and together we would pay a visit to London's National Gallery.   But I soon noticed that would be impossible: there were metal crowd-control barriers up on both sides of Whitehall: not for any public demonstrations, but instead for the Royal British Legion's Remembrance Sunday March-Past, consisting of Legion members and veterans--all marching up from the service at The Cenotaph.

I joined the crowds lined up along Parliament Square, who awaited the arrival of the March-Past.   Of course, there was a band to start the march off, in great British style.  I wasn't sure if these men in the photo (photo left) were from the Life Guards or Coldstream Guards.  But I've always loved the huge bearskin hats they wear.   How in the world do they see where they're going?

I recognized the red coats of the Chelsea Pensioners: (photo right) the residents of the Royal Hospital Chelsea, a retirement and nursing home for British soldiers located in Chelsea, central London.   The Hospital was founded by King Charles II, by Royal Warrant, in 1681, to make provision for injured and disabled soldiers.  

The main building of the Hospital was designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the architect of St Paul's Cathedral in London.

I also recognized the veterans of the Parachute Regiment by their distinctive red berets (photo left).   I wondered how many of the veterans might have served in the Second World War's major airborne campaigns, such as Operation Market Garden in The Netherlands, in September 1944?  Or maybe on D-Day, 6 June 1944?  How many of their deceased comrades were they thinking about at that moment?

There were both young men and elderly veterans marching smartly past; one of the younger officers would march alongside the veterans and shout out 'left-right-left-right'', and the veterans did everything possible to stay in step.   Some were infirm enough to be in wheelchairs, but it didn't keep them from obeying the young officer!

I took quite a few photos during the March-Past (photo left).   It was so wonderful to see the crowds come out to applaud both the veterans, and current Service Members, and show their support.   The applause was both warm and enthusiastic, but never over-the-top.  It's definitely the British way of doing special days like this.

I couldn't leave Parliament Square without taking a photo of the statue of Sir Winston Churchill, as he looks over towards the Houses of Parliament (below, left).

All that week, there were fence barriers in front of the statue--there were demonstrators around the edges of the square, protesting the UK's military involvements in Afghanistan and Iraq.   Several of them had put up tents, and appeared to be wanting to stay for awhile.  But they were not allowed in the Square proper.  I suppose the fences were put up in order to protect the grass from being trampled upon over much, by the demonstrators and curious visitors.

The demonstrators were peaceful; they didn't harass passers-by like me.   And I didn't make any eye contact with them.   I wonder what Mr. Churchill would have thought of them?   I would imagine he would have let them say their peace, so long as it was 'peaceful'.   If they weren't, I'm sure he would have done whatever was needed to keep the peace.   And maybe he would have let the demonstrators feel the full force of his oratorical skills!   Now that I would have loved to have seen and heard!

It was now raining a bit more steadily.   And try as I might, I could not find a way out of the crowds to get on my way to Trafalgar Square.   Eventually, I followed a few people with the same idea in mind (at least in finding a way out).   I found myself on a narrow side-street with beautiful Queen Anne-style townhouses with shiny-painted doors and brass knockers.   The windows hung out over the street, which was a bit crooked too.

I wish I'd gotten a few photos of these buildings.   It was as if the Second World War had never touched this area of Westminster!

When I came out of the street, I found myself in St James's Park.  I asked a nearby female Bobby how to get to Trafalgar Square; she said to 'follow the red brick road'--a red gravel path actually--to The Mall.  I thanked her, and crossed a bridge over a lake--and noticed, to my left, Buckingham Palace (photo left) and the Queen Victoria Memorial.

The Park has become one of my favorite places to be in London.   Walking along its paths is the best way to relax, after a long day's worth of walking and sightseeing.

Walking along the lakeshore, where ducks, geese and swans congregated, I noticed a most  interesting marker in the path (photo below). This portion of the path through St James's Park was dedicated to the memory of the late Diana, Princess of Wales.  

I think she would have liked this walk, through such a beautiful green area of London.

Soon, I found The Mall: the great ceremonial road between Admiralty Arch (photo right) and Buckingham Palace.  Admiralty Arch was dedicated in 1910 by King Edward VII, as a memorial to his mother, Queen Victoria. 

There were no cars on The Mall this Remembrance Sunday, which was really nice.

 As I looked up over the buildings to my left, I found Lord Nelson's Column towering above all.   I was very close to Trafalgar Square!   I walked up The Mall and through Admiralty Arch, and then up a short flight of steps to the Square.

Soon, I would be standing in one of London's most famous gathering places: Trafalgar Square, dedicated to the memory of Admiral Horatio, Lord Nelson--one of Britain's most famous military heroes.   He fought against the navy of the French Emperor, Napoleon Bonaparte, in the early years of the 19th century; the Square is named for one of Lord Nelson's greatest victories, the Battle of Trafalgar, fought off the coast of Spain, on 21 October 1805.

Sadly, it was the Admiral's final victory: he was mortally wounded during the battle, and died the same day.   He was brought back to the UK and given a State funeral, and was buried in London's St Paul's Cathedral.

Trafalgar Square's focal point is the Lord Nelson Column, in the center (left photo).   It displays friezes of four of Nelson's most notable victories: Cape St Vincent, The Nile, Copenhagen and Trafalgar.   At the very top is a statue of the Admiral himself, looking out over Whitehall.  The Column itself was built between 1840 and 1843, to commemorate Lord Nelson's death at Trafalgar. 

The Column is 'guarded' on four sides by fierce-looking British lions (right).   These 'beasts' have been photographed and climbed upon by tourists and Londoners alike, since they were put in place in 1867.     The lions were designed by Sir Edwin Landseer, and sculpted by Baron Marochetti.

For myself, I think these lions look quite magnificent!

Trafalgar Square has been the site of moments of national rejoicing, and national sorrow, in Britain.   It was the site of joyous V-E Day celebrations during the Second World War, and on 6 July 2005, when London was awarded the 2012 Summer Olympic Games.   And it also held a mournful gathering a few days later, after the 7 July terrorist transit bombings in London.   So it's seen its share of laughter and tears.

One thing I just discovered: if the Nazis had successfully invaded Britain in Operation Sealion in 1940, Adolf Hitler would have dismantled Lord Nelson's Column, and moved it to Berlin, as a war trophy!   Good thing that didn't happen.   It would have made the British people even more eager to defy the Nazis.

There are so many sights to see around Trafalgar Square: there is the National Gallery of London, the Church of St Martin-in-the-Fields, its two fountains--and the 'Fourth Plinth".   About the last-named sight: there are four statues on plinths flanking the Square.   Three of them are currently 'occupied': one is an equestrian statue of King George IV.   But this 'Fourth" was supposed to hold an equestrian statue of its own, but that didn't happen.   So in 1998, the Royal Society of Arts came up with "The Fourth Plinth Project", where local artists would display their works on the empty plinth for a period of time.

And at this time, there was placed a most appropriate 'work of art' for the Square (photo left): it is Lord Nelson's Trafalgar flagship HMS Victory--and she's encased in a glass bottle, like a model ship!   She's got one little detail that Lord Nelson could never have foreseen: her sails are made of African-patterned cloth.

I had to laugh, and wonder what Lord Nelson would think of this.  I would hope he wouldn't have let loose a barrage of naval oaths....

The church of St Martin-in-the-Fields (photo right) is an Anglican church that is on the northeast corner of Trafalgar Square.   A church by that name (named for its patron saint, St Martin of Tours, in France) has been on this site since at least 1222.   The current building was designed by James Gibbs, and erected in 1721.

It is also home to the world-famous Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields chamber orchestra, founded in 1959 by conductor and violinist Sir Neville Marriner.

The National Gallery of London is located on the back side of Trafalgar Square, and overlooks the Square, and Whitehall.  It is home to a collection of over 2300 works of art, from the mid-13th century to 1900.   Its current building was designed by architect William Willkins, and was constructed between 1832 and 1838.  The front facade has pretty much stayed the same since then.   But its interior gallery space has been expanded in various stages throughout its history.

This Remembrance Sunday, I would be visiting the National Gallery (photo left) in the company of my British friend Myles and his young daughter Megan.   They were coming from Surrey, the southern county closest to London.

It was now close to 1 pm, and the rain was still coming down.  The wind also began to pick up a little, and I was becoming chilled to the bone, as I stood close to Lord Nelson's Column.   I did receive a text-message from Myles, stating that he and Megan would be arriving at Waterloo Station shortly.

 I decided to get out of the rain, if only for a few minutes, so I ducked into a nearby bookshop: Weatherstone's, which faced Trafalgar Square.   I'm glad I did stop in: it was a paradise for the book-lover in me!   I immediately went to the History section downstairs, and found a copy of Sir Martin Gilbert's The Holocaust: the Jewish Tragedy.   I bought that, and The Wicked Wit of Winston Churchill, a collection of some of Churchill's most famous humorous stories and quotes.  

I also bought two more books in British author Susan Howatch's Church of England/St Benet's series of novels: Glittering Images and The High Flyer, respectively.   These two series of novels are among my favorites; I've read all of them, though not in the order in which they were written!

Carrying my purchases, I popped out of Weatherstone's, and went back over to Lord Nelson's Column to wait for Myles and Megan.    Sure enough: just after 2 pm, they arrived: Myles hugged me in greeting, and introduced me to his young daughter Megan, and I introduced myself to her.   Myles and I have been email correspondents for just over ten years, and I was so glad to finally meet him in person!   The three of us then walked across the wet Square to our destination: the National Gallery of London.

The National Gallery is home to some of Britain's greatest art treasures, and we were going to see as many of them as we could, in a short time.  

The Gallery is laid out in some of the most gorgeous rooms I've ever seen: high ceilings, beautiful woodwork round the doors, and perfect lighting effects.   We found works by masters such as Leonardo da Vinci, Vincent Van Gogh, Titian, Peter Paul Rubens, Rembrandt, and most of the French Impressionists, such as Claude Monet and Edouard Manet.   We also saw English works by John Constable, Turner, and Sir Thomas Gainsborough--and King Henry VIII's favorite painter, Hans Holbein the Younger.

One of Holbein's works was of the teenage Princess Christina of Denmark, (photo left) painted in 1538, during the time Henry was looking for his fourth wife.   She turned the King down, saying "If I had two heads, one would be at the King of England's disposal"!   Christina was definitely a smart girl!!

The Princess was quite lovely, dressed in a long black gown, with a black cap covering her head.

One of the most moving works we saw was one by the 18th-century French artist Hippolyte (Paul) Delaroche, depicting the moment before the execution of Lady Jane Grey at the Tower of London on 12 February 1554 (photo right): Lady Jane is blindfolded, and is searching frantically for the block, on which she is to lay her head; a sorrowful clergyman is guiding her gently there, as the sad Executioner and Lady Jane's grieving ladies look on.   It is a massive work, and there was quite a crowd looking at it.

The two photos of the aforementioned works are not my own.  Visitors could not take photographs inside the National Gallery, so I have to be content with photos from the Internet.

 One of the British works I particularly liked was one painted by Constable of Salisbury Cathedral: somehow, the artist managed to depict a perfect rainbow above the cathedral.   Whomever put these displays together knew how to delight and overwhelm the visitor at the same time!

We were there about a half-hour, when Megan said she was hungry, so we trooped downstairs to the self-service Cafeteria for a little lunch.  Myles bought Megan a nut-less cake and fruit cup for himself, and I selected a tomato-mozzarella-basil sandwich.   Myles graciously paid for all three of us.  

We managed to find a place in the very-crowded eating area, and had an opportunity to chat.   Myles gave me a copy of the program from the Guildford Opera Company's production of Gaetano Donizetti's Lucia di Lammermoor, in which he played the role of Normano, the Captain of the Guard.   Myles is a very talented singer and actor; he's performed in local repertory productions of musicals like Guys and Dolls and the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar.   

All too soon, we were finished with lunch, and we made our way back to the galleries, to see more paintings.   On the way upstairs, Myles told me his father was pleased I knew of Gonville & Caius, one of the colleges at the University of Cambridge.   It seems the elder Mr. Harfield is a Gonville & Caius man.   This college figures prominently in one of my favorite films, Chariots of Fire; one of the main characters, Olympic champion Harold Abrahams, is a Gonville & Caius man.

We didn't see many more paintings, alas, as it was getting late in the afternoon, and Myles and Megan had to get back to their hometown of Farnham.   When we got back outside, I asked them if I could take their photo, to remember our time together.   Myles said yes, and that's what we did (left).

When we got back into Trafalgar Square at Lord Nelson's Column, I hugged Megan goodbye, and wished her a good week at school; I then hugged Myles, and thanked him for lunch, and for the company at the National Gallery.   And then they were off, back to Waterloo Station, and home.

It was around 4 or so, and the rain had finally stopped--mercifully.   But the streets of London were still full of people, as I made my way back along Whitehall, to Westminster.   Whitehall was now open to vehicular traffic; it had been closed during the ceremony at The Cenotaph, and the Royal British Legion March-Past earlier in the day.

I walked the entire length of Whitehall, passing Horse Guards (the horses and their riders were not 'on duty' outside overnight), and stopped at The Cenotaph (photo left), to look at the floral tributes left by The Queen, senior Royals, the Prime Minister and his Government, regimental organizations, veterans' groups, and many others.   I also took photos of both sides of The Cenotaph.

Many passers-by stopped along the metal fence surrounding The Cenotaph, to read the inscriptions on the cards on the wreaths, or to look for a specific wreath.   The crowd was quiet and dignified: no shouting or even laughing.   It was a very moving thing to see.

I was really amazed at the number of passers-by, at this time of the evening.   I suppose that a major city like London never really 'sleeps'.   There is always something going on.

But on this particular evening, there was still a solemnity in the air: that this was not supposed to be 'just any Sunday' evening in London.   It was a day to reflect, and to remember, all those Britons who had given their lives in war; or, as President Lincoln said so perfectly in the Gettysburg Address: 'the last full measure of devotion.'

I left The Cenotaph, and arrived at Parliament Square, and took some photos of the illuminated Houses of Parliament.   One came out particularly well.   I was quite surprised to see this photo (photo right) : a moonrise behind the floodlit St Stephen's Tower.

I then turned near Westminster Abbey, up an equally busy Victoria Street into a quieter Buckingham Gate, and the hotel.  I soon 'crashed' for the evening, and slept like a rock: a perfect ending to a really memorable, and very moving, Remembrance Sunday.