I can’t remember whether I saw real poppies in the fields and hedgerows when I was a child. I do remember when there were none to be seen, because of the fertilisers used on the fields, and I certainly remember when they began to
re-appear. It was astonishing to see real poppies for the first time. Could any flowers really be as red as that?
Poppies are to be seen this week – the poppies in our buttonholes. On Sunday we observe Remembrance Day. I wasn’t impressed by Remembrance Day when I was young. I was a post-war baby, and the War (as the Second World War was always called) definitely belonged to my parents’ generation, not mine.
It was Ernest Mayes who made see the point of it. Mr Mayes was an elderly resident of the country parish when I was a young rector there 20 years ago.
He had been just old enough to fight in the First World War, and just young enough to fight all over again in the Second. He survived; but twice in his life he had seen his comrades killed around him.
He always said the words of remembrance in the village church. When he said, in his quavering voice, “We will remember them”, he knew what he was talking about.
Other people have more recent memories of losing comrades. Five members of the Worcesters and Foresters (now the Second Battalion of the Mercian Regiment) have not come home from Afghanistan.
We shall remember them when the Worcesters and Foresters come to Worcester Cathedral for a special service in December. For their families and friends this coming Remembrance Sunday will have a special poignancy. Make sure you remember.