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[Rogue Chef]

This has been shamlessly poached from Once A Marine Always A Marine. It was written by an old oppo. I think/hope you'll like it:

The driver nearly missed his passenger at the station, because he was listening to a saleswoman for the Red Cross. She was a young Frenchwoman, showing all that distinctive individual chic that goes with the nation. Very attractive, with ravens-wing black hair, and wonderful light grey eyes, she wore the minimal make up that bespoke taste and judgement, with lips that encouraged the discarding of judgement! He wasn’t really listening, just maintaining an interested expression while his mind wandered. The cleanest thought was, “I’d give her one” rapidly followed by “Could I, at my age?”
When he found his passenger outside, there was a quick detour to the coffee stall, then away to his newly cleaned up car, with the rubbish sack behind the front seat, and the two coat hangers for blazers. On the journey North, they spoke of little things, only once or twice touching upon the exact location they were headed for, without the journeys purpose or reason being broached. There was no need. Occasional incoming calls kept them up to date with progress.
South of Oxford, they stopped on a bridge and chatted to a couple of bikers, both there for the same purpose, and looked at how they had rigged their flag so that it was pristine. They agreed that they should move on, and eventually found their spot. Still the ‘phone calls. The flag was set up, and the two final adjustments made, then they waited.
In the cold time of their wait they discussed a lot of things, none of deep meaning, small talk to while away the hours. Old bones and old injuries ached, feet were cold, but no complaint voiced. It was not appropriate. They discussed what they would do, when the time came, and frequently their hearts were moved by thumbs up and toots on the horn from passing motorists. “Didn’t realise so many knew”, was one comment. More progress reports by ‘phone.
Then finally, in the cold gloaming of the day, blue lights flashing in the distance. They quickly formed their little lonely line in the middle of nowhere, and came to attention as smartly as old, cold bones would allow. As the police car drew level, the older one gave the word, and two arms came up in salute, holding it until the whole sorrowful convoy of five hearses had driven slowly by. The passenger in the first one looked as if he had been awoken by the driver, and his expression was one of amazement as he saw these two old Marines standing by the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere, saluting his precious cargo.
Not much was said as they stripped down their flag and moved back to the car. Throats were full. On the road back to London, one of them said it all.
“Our lads didn’t get the recognition. We have got to make sure they do this time.”

[Illustrious]

Had to read it twice to fully understand it. Very touching piece in recognition of those who have paid the ultimate price. Poached or not, I for one appreciate reading it. Now if you dont mind, I have some dust in my eye.

[Rogue Chef]

Illustrious,
The first bit caught me out as well..
As I said, an old oppo was the author. I checked with him, he gave this post his blessing.
Nicely written piece eh?

[Illustrious]

Roger that, I've heard of similar things happening in the land of the maple leaf (Canada) whereby people literally lined the bridges above this road to show their respect to the soldiers killed on ops. Was touching to read.