OP. LONDON BRIDGE by Jon Ward September 2022

OPERATION LONDON BRIDGE

Code Name: London Bridge is Down

A very personal perspective.

Yeoman’s Log;

Earth date:

Monday 19 September 2022

Arriving two days after the main body of The King's Body Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard due to work commitments on Mainland Europe, I reported to our Guard Room situated in St James's Palace on Thursday 15th September 2022. (D + 6.)

Chris Savage the Messenger Sergeant Major, was busy in a meeting with Major Henry Robertson, the Lieutenant of The King's Body Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard, so I helped myself to a cup of tea and began for the first time to really contemplate the enormity of the events which were currently unfolding here in the city of London, and would continue to do so throughout the coming week. The logistics of which alone were of such a gargantuan scope that only a few, the likes of Pete Lodge, could possibly begin to imagine the planning implications.

The remainder of the Yeomen who had reported for Duties on Tuesday 13th September (D + 4.) had been formed into their various Guards & Duties, issued QBO's and deployed.

(in civvy terms, briefed and despatched.) Accommodated in Windsor Castle, they were now in the routine of travelling by coach to Hyde Park Barracks, conducting rehearsals, then moving to Westminster Hall and taking over the Vigil Duties around Her Majesty's Coffin adorned by her Royal Standard, on its Catafalque as she lay-in-State. This was a 24-hour commitment which had been broken down into 20-minute stags.

Followed by 24-hours back in Windsor Castle, then rinse and repeat.

I joined my shift and was slotted into the roster. I made a mental note to myself that I would not look directly at Her Majesty's Coffin as I approached it for fear of becoming overwhelmed, but would focus only on my designated corner of the Catafalque, where I would stand Guard facing out, with my Partisan inverted for 20 minutes at a time.

This is it Jon, of all the stags, in all the unpleasant places and unmentionable circumstances, in all extremes of weather, on exercises, on Operations in peace time and at War, this stag, to me personally, is the most important. This stag would be,

MONUMENTALLY EPIC.

On 17 of November 1986, I had signed an Oath of Allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, her Heirs and successors. And as an Englishman of several somewhat old-fashioned morals and virtues, my word is my bond, so this is my duty to you Ma'am. I will not fail you, I will not faulter.

And so the time came to mount my first Vigil.

My heartbeat is booming like a Wombat 120mm Anti-Tank Recoilless Rifle on SF!

My blood is a rampaging torrent cascading through my body like the River Severn Bore.

I'm not a religious or spiritual man, but there is a plain on which a man can find himself, a plain above all others, a euphoric sense of supreme self-confidence, a feeling you are an unstoppable force with an objective, an intent and there is absolutely nothing that can prevent you from achieving the triumph of conquering that objective. I first experienced this elevated platform when at 18 years of age and in basic training for the Parachute Regiment, I completed and passed P Company

(Pre-Parachute Selection) that was in April 1987

But I have only ever experienced it on a very few occasions since. Such as crossing the Start Line, or Line of Departure with Fast Tommy and setting out into the unknown, across the hostile enemy territory of the Iraqi desert in pursuit of our quarry. That was during Operation TELIC the War in Iraq March - July 2003.

So here I was now, having not slept for over 38 hours, back on this euphoric plain again, this time standing Vigil at the side of my former Monarch as countless hordes of grieving CIVPOP glided past in respectful silence.

A lone figure standing Vigil, but not lonely as I was never actually alone. I had my wife, my family, the Airborne Brotherhood and every single member of our Armed Forces both past and present, with me side by side standing shoulder to shoulder.

I'd all of a sudden developed a chronic case of 'Disco Knee'! My legs were shaking uncontrollably. I began to de-brief myself severely. Get a grip Jon, this cannot be happening here and now, sort yourself out you ****! Where do you think you are.........?

''You've got this Jon, get a grip and sort it out now''.

But still my legs were shaking, they were shaking even more than they had done 32½ years ago as I stood at the Alter of St Luke’s Church in St Leonards-on-Sea, Hastings where Jo & I were wed.

Yes! That’s it, Jo, focus on Jo. Honorary Field Marshal the Breasted Chief of Staff my Airborne Wench.

Then one of those defining moments occurred to me, just me, one that will stay with me for the rest of my days.

Jo's voice in my head, as calm and gentle as a ripple on a Mill pond, as crystal clear as a Chalk stream meandering through a sunlit glade,  

"You've got this Jon. You've got this."

That was it, I had it, I bent my knees ever so slightly and all the shaking stopped immediately, I was now as rock solid as the Mountain of Welsh Granite from which the Norse God's had hewn and carved WO1 RSM John 'Taff' Goreing with a scale from a Welsh Dragon's armour.

I'm there, this is me, I've got this Jon, Hold Fast, I've got this.

The Queen is dead.

Rest in Eternal Peace Ma'am.

Thank you.

Long live the King,

Long reign the King,

The King is Airborne.

As special mention of appreciation must go to Dudley G Mendenhall, as he alone was the hair trigger that fired the shot, launching this round on its trajectory.

(My journey of adventure.)