MOTH Parade pays homage to fallen soldiers

Upon arriving at the cemetery, The Last Post was played which preceded the laying of wreaths and red poppies upon the cenotaph at the Lych Gate.

November 11, 2019

Tersia Gopi 2 minutes read

On the 11th hour of the 11th day on the 11th month 1918, the guns of the Western Front in Europe fell silent for the first time after four years of continuous warfare.

This marked the turning point of World War I, when German forces called for an armistice to secure a peace settlement, and accepted the Allied forces’ condition of unconditional surrender. Sadly, 20 years later, the Second World War began.

Since then, every year this day signifies the remembrance of the nine-million people who lost their lives in battle.

Memorable Order of Tin Hats (MOTH) members gathered at the Monte Stanco Shellhole to pay homage to the fallen soldiers on Sunday.

Thereafter, the group proceeded from the Armoury to the Hardwick Street Cemetery.

The procession included members of 3rd Newcastle Scouts, Freemasons, Drakensberg Commandos, MOTH and members of the public.

Upon arriving at the cemetery, The Last Post was played which preceded the laying of wreaths and red poppies upon the cenotaph at the Lych Gate.

The flags were then lowered, bringing an emotional close to the Remembrance Day proceedings.

The significance of the ‘red flower of remembrance’:

“White poppies grew through Europe and were known as the flower of forgetfulness as drugs were made from them. Nature took note of the wastefulness of war. With all the blood split into the ground, nature turned the poppy red with a black cross in the centre for the men who never returned home.”

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, who had just buried his friend, then wrote a poem titled ‘In Flanders Fields’:

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
between the crosses, row on row.
That mark our
place; and in the sky.
The larks,
still bravely singing, fly.
Scarce heard
amid the guns below.
We are the
Dead.
Short days
ago we lived,
Felt dawn,
saw sunset glow.
Loved, and were loved,
And now we lie In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from
failing hands we throw.
The torch, be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
Though poppies grow In Flanders fields.