Respect

Every so often something happens that make me stop in my tracks, or rather my thoughts, and realise the world doesn't spin around me and Thamuang. Recently my daughter Clare announced she was running the Manchester 10k, this pleased me greatly and in fact inspired me to get out and start running again. Clare is still on target for the race and I am impressed at her tenacity, hopefully she will continue her campaign and go on running for many years to come. But last night I received an email from my Mum and suddenly understood how important certain beliefs are to her and my Dad.

Let me briefly explain. My Dad was a soldier in World War II, a proud private in the Black Watch, and saw a great deal of action and fighting on the front lines in France, Belgium and finally in the big push across the Rhine into Germany. Since retiring from work, over twenty years ago, he and Mum have been very active members of the British Legion and the Normandy Veterans Association. Sadly although they both sat on the committee of Poynton branch of the Legion, they decided to resign, along with other stalwarts, in protest to activities of club committee. Recently the NVA was disbanded because unfortunately the number of veterans is reducing. Through both these ex military associations they have formed lasting friendships and almost all of their social life has been centred on one or the other groups. My Dad is a very fit 84 year old. He is still active in the garden and helps our more doddery relations by ferrying them around in his car. But his enthusiasm as the NVA colour escort with his friend and fellow Black Watch veteran Ben, has over the years, helped him maintain an active interest and, indirectly, kept the remembrance of the War alive in our thoughts. He has visited schools as guest of honour and talked to children about the war, he has been awarded more medals than he can wear at one time and has visited Normandy on or around D Day for the last fourteen years, visiting different memorials to pay respect to his comrades.

My Mum hasn't exactly tagged along on these visits. She enjoys the administration and organising within the groups and of course has many good friends as well. Her memory of the War is not as vivid as Dad's, but she was brought up in a time of uncertainty and was surrounded by sad news of neighbours being killed in action. She remembers the blitz years and her older sisters working in the munitions factory. Nowadays she is a silver surfer and keeps in touch with friends and family through email. You can tell she is becoming more addicted when she starts complaining about her new BT hub and the wireless dropping out every two minutes. (It is sorted out now - thanks Clare).

It isn't easy for them to give up their social life because of the demise of the associations and they are very much looking forward to going to Normandy in June for the fifteenth year in succession. They are going as a small group of the former Stockport branch of the NVA, which has continued to meet as an unofficial group for the last year.

But their interest does not diminish and through her email network she forwarded this email yesterday. I had no idea what it was about until the end. I then realised how much respect they have for others, and how much respect others have for them. It reaffirmed to me how much love and respect I have for them.

Last week I was in West London attending a conference. While I was in the airport, returning home, I heard several people behind me beginning to clap and cheer. I immediately turned around and witnessed one of the greatest acts of patriotism I have ever seen.

Moving through the terminal was a group of soldiers in their uniforms, as they began heading to their gate everyone (well almost everyone) was abruptly to their feet with their hands waving and cheering. When I saw the soldiers, probably 30-40 of them, being applauded and cheered for, it hit me. I'm not alone. I'm not the only red blooded Briton who still loves this country and supports our troops and their families. Of course I immediately stopped and began clapping for these young unsung heroes who are putting their lives on the line everyday for us so we can go to school, work, and enjoy our home without fear or reprisal.

Just when I thought I could not be more proud of my country or of our service men and women a young girl, not more than 6 or 7 years old, ran up to one of the male soldiers. He knelt down and said 'hi,' the little girl then asked him if he would give something to her daddy from her. The young soldier didn't look any older than maybe 22 himself, said he would try and what did she want to give to her daddy. Suddenly the little girl grabbed the neck of this soldier, gave him the biggest hug she could muster and then kissed him on the cheek. The mother of the little girl, who said her daughters name was Courtney, told the young soldier that her husband was a Corporal and had been in Afghanistan for 5 months now. As the mum was explaining how much her daughter, Courtney, missed her father, the young soldier began to tear up.

When this temporarily single mum was done explaining her situation, all of the soldiers huddled together for a brief second. Then one of the other servicemen pulled out a military looking walkie-talkie. They started playing with the device and talking back and forth on it. After about 10-15 seconds of this, the young soldier walked back over to Courtney, bent down and said this to her, 'I spoke to your daddy and he told me to give this to you.' He then hugged this little girl that he had just met and gave her a Kiss on the cheek. He finished by saying 'Your daddy told me to tell you that he loves you more than anything and he is coming home very soon.'

The mum at this point was crying almost uncontrollably and as the young soldier stood to his feet he saluted Courtney and her mum. I was standing no more than 6 feet away as this entire event unfolded. As the soldiers began to leave, heading towards their gate, people resumed their applause. As I stood there applauding and looked around, there were very few dry eyes, including my own. That young soldier, in one last moment, turned around and blew a kiss to Courtney with a tear rolling down his cheek.

We need to remember everyday all of our soldiers and their families and thank God for them and their sacrifices. At the end of the day, it's good to be British.

RED FRIDAYS

Very soon, you will see a great many people wearing Red every Friday. The reason? Englishmen and women who support our troops used to be called the 'silent majority'. We are no longer silent, and are voicing our love for Country and home in record breaking numbers. We are not organized, boisterous or over-bearing. We get no liberal media coverage on TV, to reflect our message or our opinions.

Many British people, like you, me and all our friends, simply want to recognize that the vast majority of Britain supports our troops.

Our idea of showing solidarity and support for our troops with dignity and respect starts this Friday and continues each and every Friday until the troops all come home, sending a deafening message that every Briton who supports our men and women afar will wear something red.

By word of mouth, press, TV -- let's make Great Britain on every Friday a sea of red much like a homecoming football team. If every one of us who loves this country will share this with acquaintances, co-workers, friends, and family, it will not be long before Britain is covered in RED and it will let our troops know the once 'silent' majority is on their side more than ever, certainly more than the media lets on.

The first thing a soldier says when asked 'What can we do to make things better for you?' is...'We need your support and your prayers'... Let's get the word out and lead with class and dignity, by example; and wear something red every Friday.

IF YOU AGREE --

THEN SEND THIS ON

IF YOU COULD NOT CARE LESS

THEN HIT THE DELETE BUTTON.

IT IS YOUR CHOICE.

THEIR BLOOD RUNS RED---- SO WEAR RED! ---

Lest we Forget.

The email has a heart warming story and it drums up modern day patriotism. But whilst the message is for the British troops posted in many war zones around the world today, it reminded me that Dad was in the same position sixty odd years. Of course the World War II was fought for different reasons, but Dad was fighting for King and Country and without that I wouldn't be where I am today. I won't forget. Thanks Dad, and special thanks Mum as well. You are both heroes.

Dad (on the right) in Normandy June 2005

This picture appeared on the whole of the front page on the Daily Telegraph - I had so much pride telling the newsagent 'This is my Dad!'