4-6 April 2003
As a result of the Pilgrimage to the World War I Battlefields, the following items formed an essential part of one of the Holy Week services which was based on the theme of Reconciliation. They are included here with thanks to John and Eileen MacKay.
Emotions ran high throughout the weekend
On the Saturday, we were privileged to visit Talbot House in Poperigne. Established as a memorial to Padre Geoffrey Talbot, whose grave we visited, it was a haven for all ranks where they had baths, ate meals, played games and rested between visits to the front and all of the horrors that were there contained. Pessimists were not admitted as a notice informed us.
The name Talbot House became shortened by visiting servicemen to the initial letters only - T.H. but in the phonetic alphabet as Toc Aitch. This was the origin of the Toc H. movement throughout the United Kingdom with its logo being the Toc H. lamp. This was an oil lamp similar in shape to that of Aladdin of pantomime fame. The light was so small that it gave rise to the unkind comment that an individual could be as dim as Toc H. lamp.
The very topmost room in the building a chapel where Padre Tubby Clayton and visiting members of the forces had the same ceremony each evening. I was delighted to learn there the origin of those words that we hear so often at various times of the year.
There is a small, but tall, table in the room upon which lies the Toc H. lamp. On those occasions, the table was moved to the centre of the room, the lamp lit and those attending formed a circle around the table. The following words were then spoken:
LightWhat courage they all had.
With proud thanksgiving let us remember our elder brethren
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.
We will remember them.
Let your light so shine before men that they might see your good works
and glorify our Father which is in heaven.
John MacKay
It was sunset at the Menen Gate
the crowd had gather there to wait.
The young, the old from every nation
all stood there in expectation.
Excited voices everywhere
they'd come to show how much they care.
The traffic ceased, a silence came,
the Last Post played for every name
recorded on the Menen Gate.
No eye was dry, no heart untouched
as bugles rang aloud.
None could forget the debt that's owed;
of them we all are proud.
Their lives were lost to save our nation,
we joined together in celebration
of the dreadful price they had to pay.
Their futures lost to save our day.
We shared it at the Menen Gate.
Eileen MacKay