We waited in the Friary Gardens for the parade to arrive.
Recorded music gave way to drums and brass.
Service men and women from Catterick Garrison marched past.
The wreath bearers took their places on the damp grass.
We prayed.
The Last Past summoned us to silence.
Cold winter sunshine promised an unfelt warmth.
Autumn leaves blew gently in the crisp breeze.
All was quiet, the people still and remembering.
The child began to cry.
Breaking and supplementing the silence with the reminder of tears.
Just so a child cried on that silent night in Bethlehem.
We will remember them.
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