THE FUNERAL OF HM QUEEN ELIZABETH II
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Lt Col Burton writes about Wilson’s School CCF’s special role in Operation London Bridge

A number of years ago, I sat in the Headmaster’s office with Mr Cole, Colonel Dennison (Colonel Cadets London District), and Carl Crane (the SO2 Cadets in London). They had come to ask whether Wilson’s would be prepared to provide cadets and an officer for Operation London Bridge when the time came. We were the only state school in the land to be given this honour. An agreement was reached, uniforms were delivered and every year I have picked a team of three cadets to fulfil this solemn duty.

When the sad announcement reached us on 8 September, I knew I would get a call from The Cadet Training Centre at Frimley Park and that I would be taking the current nominees, CSgt Moore and Sergeants Rajkumar and Otu. The call came and we were asked to arrive before 1800 on D+6 (the Tuesday of the week following Her Majesty’s passing).

In the build-up, Major Grant, Officer Commander of the Army Section, provided outstanding support. He collected my medals from the tailor’s where the Queen’s Platinum Jubilee had been added, and spent a whole afternoon fitting and correcting the cadet uniforms. Lt Newing and a local tailor made any adjustments that were needed and Lt Redmond put himself forward as our driver.

There are too many colleagues to thank personally, but the Senior Leadership Team, the Key Stage 4 Office and Design and Technology all worked to ensure I could leave without any worries about life back at Wilson’s.

Day One (D+6)

We arrived at the Cadet Training Centre at Frimley Park at 1700, having been driven down by Lieutenant Redmond following the entrance exam at school, so the cadets had already worked hard that day. Dinner was followed by a briefing in the lecture theatre and there was the usual good-natured verbal jousting with Dulwich College cadets! However, I took as much as I dished out, as Malcolm Gregory and Davo, the Contingent Commander at City of London School and the SSI at Pangbourne respectively, sat behind me as we filled in our media release forms, and gave me a bit of friendly grief. City of London had provided the Navy element, Winchester the Royal Marine cadets, Wilson’s the Army, with the RAF coming from Dulwich. Pangborne College are also represented in their naval uniforms, as they have at previous State Funerals.

I am in room 25 on the top floor and my cadets are in room 24. I’m pretty sure I was in this room for my King George VI course, although others say this end of the top floor was usually female accommodation.

There was then a brief inspection downstairs by the RSM; all of our cadets’ uniform passed, but Sgt Rajkumar‘s trousers were said to be a bit long, and the Sergeant Major recommended that he literally wear belt and braces.

Marlborough Hall has been converted into a cadet welfare room, including a Switch, a PlayStation and two large televisions with Netflix, Amazon Prime etc. Sergeant Otu lost at FIFA to the Commandant of the Cadet Training Centre and then at table tennis to the Chief Instructor. Before bed, I noticed that Charlton had drawn 1-1 with Forest Green Rovers. It doesn’t seem hugely important tonight. Busy one tomorrow!

Day Two (D+7)

0530 alarm for 0615 breakfast, and then onto the minibuses to Brunswick camp at Pirbright. The Wilson’s boys were familiar with the camp as we had conducted our summer camp here not six weeks before. The roads around camp have been measured and marked (with chalk) to simulate the route in London. Sergeant Major Phillips, RSM of the CTC, walked the route with us, with the slip road to the headquarters building simulating the side gate to Wellington Barracks, and Sandes, the tea room known to many who have used the camp, representing the Victoria monument. They had even erected a tent to simulate the arch at Horse Guards Parade.

We are starting to shape up, although the Cadet Force Adult Volunteers and cadets have all arrived with varying standards of drill. After a packed lunch I sat with Davo, the SSI at Pangbourne, and watched her Majesty’s coffin moved to Westminster Hall on the small screen of an iPhone, followed by the surreal experience of marching behind a car which represented the gun carriage which we had just seen on Davo’s phone and were due to see in person that evening.

I chatted briefly to a Canadian Air Force Corporal who talked about how quickly they had had to turn things around at home in Canada in order to be at Pirbright for today.

On the minibus ride back to the CTC, Sergeant Rajkumar gave a telephone interview to Army Cadet magazine, talking about his experience so far and how he felt about taking part in the Queen‘s funeral. It features on pages 20 & 21 of October’s Army Cadet Magazine, which can be seen here.

We arrived back at the CTC at 1630. The initial warning order was that dinner was at 1730 and we would depart at 1800 for tonight‘s rehearsal in London. Fortunately the departure was put back to 2130, giving us a little more time to organise our kit and equipment and relax. Given the extra time I had, I took my camera out to the lake in the grounds of Frimley Park and spent some time photographing an elegant grey heron who sat on the island in the middle of the water. I couldn’t help thinking that he appeared to be standing vigil. It was a beautiful, quiet moment with this graceful bird, and it gave me time to reflect on what was to come.

Dressed in our blues trousers and boots, carrying our jackets on hangers and crash bags, we climbed onto the minibuses for the long night ahead. The cadets were in good spirits and we were now allocated specific minibuses which would be ours for the rest of the week. My three cadets and I shared a minibus with Emily Rutter, the OC RAF at Dulwich College, and two of her cadets, Ben and Ted—with their third cadet, Charlie, allocated a place on one of the other buses.

We left the CTC at 2130 and rendezvoused with the rest of the convoy at Heston Service station. There were a huge number of the coaches along with our three minibuses. We were issued with an A3 sign saying WEL (Wellington barracks) and a green cyalume (glow-stick) by a harassed-looking member of the Royal Military Police. These were to indicate to the soldiers receiving the coaches in London where to direct them. We were dropped in Petty France and carried our kit in through the gate and up to the Guards’ welfare centre, which would be our base for the night. Some stayed up for bacon rolls served in the Junior Ranks Dining Room, but I got my head down on the floor as close to the wall as I could to avoid being stepped on.

Day Three (D +7)

My alarm went off an hour and a half after I had got to sleep and we clambered into our No1 dress uniform and mustered with the civilian services and the Royal Marines band at the side gate.

We stepped off at 0230 into the quiet of the London night. I was marching directly behind a woman from the WRVS, who was delightful and incredibly stoic, but also couldn’t march and made my march out in quick time to Westminster Abbey much harder than it might otherwise have been. We halted there and observed the rehearsal of the national two minutes’ silence, before watching the gun carriage that would carry Her Majesty on Monday loaded with an empty coffin, before we all stepped off again—this time at a slow march, taking in the Houses of Parliament, Whitehall and the Cenotaph, before wheeling through the arch and onto Horse Guards Parade. From there we wheeled right and then left onto the Mall and up Constitution Hill to Wellington Arch, where we formed up under the watchful gaze of the Garrison Sergeant Major. This is where we will see the Queen’s coffin loaded into the hearse before making for Windsor.

A quick march back to Wellington Barracks behind the Royal Marines band lifted the spirits and allowed us to stretch our aching limbs. We marched through the car park, fell out and found our way back to the welfare room. For a couple of hours we waited here for the call that the transport had made it back to central London from Woolwich, where they had spent the night.

My memories of the march itself are confused by the emotion of the occasion and perhaps the oddness of the hour. Seeing the gun carriage for the first time; the image of a sailor who was route lining, motionless, rifle at the reverse, lit from behind and framed by the houses of Parliament; the march across Horse Guards Parade towards the floodlit Guards Memorial; and the endless march down the Mall—all will be forever be etched in my mind. It is remarkable, almost unreal to be a part of this.

The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur.

A couple of hours’ sleep, for some the first in the last 30 hours—and then it was lunch with the Army and Home Command Sergeants Major, and an afternoon shining parade (a parade in which you polish your kit), during which we were visited by a Brigadier. Once he had gone I took the camera out to try to capture a pair of goldcrest I had seen earlier and in fact had hoped to see ever since I had heard them on my previous visit to Frimley, on the London District Cadet Training Team’s truncated summer camp during lockdown. No luck. However a lovely robin kept me company in my quest, so I took his portrait instead. Early to bed following the exhausted cadets’ DreamWorks marathon in the welfare room. We watched Madagascar 2, amongst other titles, while bulling shoes, boots and buttons.

Day Four (D+8)

Back to Pirbright and more rehearsals at Brunswick camp. The cadets have bounced back, recharged after the 48 hours that had gone before.

Our drill is much better thanks to the patient and persistent style of the Regimental Sergeant Major. He seems to have acquired the rest of Procession Group 7 (the civilian services), who might prove to be a harder nut to crack.

The promised visit from the Prince and Princess of Wales turned out to be a march past for all except the Commonwealth troops, whom they met to thank for their attendance. Our party seemed pleased enough to have caught a glimpse of them.

Home for tea and a quiz between the units, who have settled in and gelled into a great group. Sadly the quiz was won by the permanent staff of the CTC, with Dulwich College coming second, which was difficult to take—but given that they are providing the RAF element, I was sure to remind them who the current Royal Air Squadron Trophy holders are! The CFAVs are also starting to work really well together, and despite the inevitable inter-service and inter-school rivalries, are stepping up and taking responsibility for each others’ cadets, as well as getting on famously.

Day Five (D+8)

The promised half day didn’t materialise. Word is that a rehearsal had been watched at Longmoor Camp but hadn't met expectations, so we smashed our feet into the Pirbright tarmac yet again.

We started our day on the square at Elizabeth barracks, home of the newly-formed Ranger Regiment. The RSM has now officially adopted the other element of Group 7, the civilian services, and we formed up and practised wheeling in quick and slow time. Then onto a full rehearsal with the rest of the elements of the parade at Brunswick Camp. This time the slow march was two laps of the camp to reflect more accurately how long we will be on our feet on Monday. As we broke for lunch I was approached by a soldier from the Royal Signals, who turned out to be a former Wilson’s School CCF cadet, Anthony Young. We had a good chat and Anthony acknowledged the part that the CCF had played in his career choice. It was great to see a familiar face and it’s always gratifying to hear that the Corps inspires people in such a way. I feel like I’m going to see a bit more of Anthony as he is street lining, so we will pass him every time we rehearse as well as on the day itself.

The afternoon rehearsal was to practise the move back to Wellington barracks down Constitution Hill, which is led by the Royal Marines band yet again; a quick march cleared the lactic acid and lifted the spirits. We are feeling like a team now. Some tiredness is creeping in but the cadets of all five schools are working really hard to be their best when it matters.

To be told at the debrief that we are about to take part in the largest ceremonial parade that the UK has ever put on was inspiring and nerve-racking in equal measure.

Back at Frimley the cameras arrived in the shape of ITV, NBC, and the Sunday Mail as well as some defence media people. We did a bit of additional drill for the cameras and then Sergeant Otu and Emily Rutter from Dulwich were interviewed by ITV. After dinner we all sat watching ITV News expectantly, everyone sending messages far and wide that we would be on the television. We weren’t. Live events took over as Senior Royals mounted the vigil at Westminster Hall and the grandchildren arrived at Buckingham Palace. Our piece was bumped.

Day Six (D+9)

Another rehearsal at Brunswick camp. We were to meet up with the rest of Procession Group 7 at the square at Elizabeth Barracks for some drill practice. As we walked up the road from Brunswick camp, a coach was just pulling in, containing the Police, Fire Brigade, Royal Fleet Auxiliary, Merchant Navy and more. The RSM just tutted, looked at his watch and muttered "timings".

The slight delay meant that we could spend some exclusive time on the square with Sergeant Major Phillips, who spent ten minutes working on our wheeling. Then once the other element of the group arrived, he used the cadets and CFAVs as demo troops for his lesson to the civilian organisations. “Look in for a demonstration of how to wheel correctly!” As we wheeled left and right several times you could feel the confidence grow. Being held up as an example of good practice was a last and welcome little boost for the cadets.

We relaxed under the shade of a tree to the side of the square as the rest of our procession group was broken down into subunits and practised. To be fair, it is remarkable how far they had come, as Wednesday night/Thursday morning must have been the first time they had ever done drill. The age range, from a 16-year-old cadet to the oldest member of the group at 76, makes the overall progress of the group all the more remarkable. The RSM who started out responsible for just 20 cadets and adults has worked his magic in a calm and measured way. By no means stereotypical but hugely effective, given the range of experience of the material he has ended up working with. We’re also to be marshalled by Logistics Corp Sergeant Major and a late arrival, a Major from the Welsh Guards; his predecessor left this morning as his wife had gone into labour.

After one more full run-through (minus the bands, who were replaced for this rehearsal by a lone Gurkha with a bass drum) we were on the bus back to Frimley in time for lunch. Spirits and confidence are as high as they've been. I think that wearing Number 1 dress uniforms, the crowd, the fear of getting it wrong in public and the overwhelming sense of occasion will see us do ourselves proud tomorrow.

The rest of the day was spent polishing, ironing and shining in front of the telly in the cadet welfare room. Lights out was 2030. I wonder how many people went to sleep straight away.

Day Seven (D+10)

A 0230 alarm clock. Into trousers, boots and braces over a T-shirt and pick up a breakfast of a bacon roll and a packed meal. Kit checked and double-checked, and then onto the buses for 0300. Once again we stopped to join a “packet“ at Heston Services. This time the RMP’s systems seem to be sorted; they were certainly calmer. We were handed a sign, which on this occasion said PAL, meaning that we would be dropped off in Palace Road. Since we were the final packet of the convoy and supposedly the final vehicle we were handed a yellow glow stick. We were then waved off first!

We arrived in Palace Road and walked briskly into Welly Barracks and up to the welfare office. The sofas and floor spaces felt very familiar. Everyone set an alarm for 1000; no one slept past 0700.

The mood was now very different. The cadets, the CFAVs and the RSM took on a quiet focus. The usual banter was replaced with calm reassurance and mutual support. Carl Crane, the SO2 cadets from London district and the RSM of London District CTT popped up and chatted to the adult staff in the corridor. At 10:55 we started to move into position outside the main gate. The other procession groups were formed up on the square and, apart from the occasional word from a marshall or OC of a group, all was still and quiet. We paused for a couple of group photos and formed up by the side gate; after a few minutes the civilian organisations element joined us with handshakes and well wishes and formed up to our front.

At 11:25:30 we stepped off and immediately wheeled left out of the gate.

We should have wheeled right, but since the early morning rehearsal, all of our other rehearsals at Pirbright had been from a slip road that required a left wheel. Presumably the Royal Fleet Auxiliary, The Merchant Navy and Police’s muscle memory kicked in and our brand-new group OC and the RSM contrived to wheel us around a traffic island in a side road as The Band of the Royal Marines marched past us so that we were facing in the correct direction.

The quick march set off at a lick to gain the time lost by this error, and we halted in view of Westminster Abbey, where we stood at ease at 1132. By 1228 we had observed the national two minutes’ silence and seen Her Majesty’s coffin loaded onto the gun carriage. We stepped off in slow time at the rear of the parade.

The crowds were huge and in the most part silent. The route to Wellington Arch felt shorter than in the early hours of Thursday morning and our drill was as close to perfect as we could have hoped.

We passed the huge bank of press on our left as we passed the Abbey and left wheeled around Parliament Square and then right onto Whitehall, which provided an incredible backdrop, the iconic landmarks hitting home like we’d never seen them before, their significance magnified by the enormity of the task we were performing.

For me, Horse Guards Parade was the moment that felt most special: the depths of the crowd and the willingness of the public to stand quietly and watch the Queen’s coffin being drawn past them was more obvious in the open space provided by the parade square.

The Mall that had felt so long on Thursday morning stretched in front of us.

The crowds struggled to know how to conduct themselves appropriately. There was sporadic applause, especially for the emergency and volunteer services in front of us, yet the majority was silent, standing reverently, until the last of the order of march had passed them by. We stepped short knowing we would need some space between us and the element leading us as we wheeled right around the “wedding cake”, the Victoria Monument, and then we began to hear the massed bands playing at Wellington Arch. The Royal Marines’ band stopped, and we strove to find the step while also stepping out to catch the civilian services, who were themselves stepping longer and had opened a gap on the last wheel. We halted on the grass above Wellington Arch and retired to face it and the gun carriage.

Then there was a moment of tension as our brand-new OC called for us to “right dress“ as a sergeant-majorly voice that wasn’t our own RSM Phillips started shouting “No, stand still!” We did.

We were given the “eyes front” and some had a clearer view as Her Majesty’s coffin was moved from the gun carriage to the hearse, but all I could see was a buttress of the arch. I heard the Navy’s whistles and I knew we’d all done all we could to contribute to this momentous occasion. As we continued to stand at attention the Royal family got into the cars and the senior officers boarded coaches bound for Windsor.

We were turned to the left and then “Quick March!” Following the Royal Marines band we led the entire parade back to Wellington barracks. The cadet element of procession group 7 had a little swagger in their step: knowing that they had worked so hard for seven days to execute what what was required of them, they allowed their chests to swell with pride at coming through a parade that was physically and emotionally so difficult, all the while retaining a sense of solemnity.

Inside the barracks there was muted backslapping, and several speeches from merchant naval and police personnel from the other element of the group; then upstairs to our little room to change and wait for the minibuses. The atmosphere was quiet, reflective and exhausted. Lots of water and energy drinks were consumed as the weary cadets awaited the call to say the minibuses were outside the barracks. In fact that call never came, because the tannoy kicked out all the troops awaiting transport at the same time. We waited what seemed like an eternity behind the largest queue of coaches I’ve ever seen parked two, sometimes three side-by-side the length of Birdcage Walk.

I don’t think that any of us have grounds to claim that they didn’t sleep for some of the journey back to Frimley. As we arrived we were greeted on the steps by the Commandant, Chief instructor and all the staff that had been with us that week, including the welfare team that had looked after us so well. We had pizza for dinner and some presentations were made by the Commandant, with staff receiving bottles of port and the much-coveted Commandant’s Coins for the cadets. The evening was spent quietly in the library watching the coverage of the day, or in Marlborough Hall watching films, before everyone went to bed to process the part they had played in a truly historic event and reflect on the absolute privilege of a lifetime.

Day Eight

Ever since Exercise Cockney Fire Light, London District Cadet Training Team’s one-day post-Covid camp hosted in the grounds of the CTC, I had hoped to capture the goldcrest that I heard that day. This morning one showed as I walked around the lake with my camera. Not particularly rare, but notoriously hard to photograph owing to their size and skittishness, he chose quite a morning to let me take his picture. Wilson’s left CTC exhausted but full of pride: new friends' numbers in their phones, and a lifetime of stories in their heads. Major Grant picked us up and drove us back to school as the three of them slept in the back of the minibus. As I walked down the school corridor to the Headmaster’s office, it became clear to me that for a few days at least, my normal routines would feel as surreal as marching around Brunswick camp and pretending it was central London had, nearly a week before.

CSgt Moore and Sergeants Otu and Rajakumar had done themselves, the Contingent, The School and the Cadet Forces proud, along with their counterparts from the other four schools in the part they played in marking the passing of their Captain General, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

Wilson’s School

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