With a military band playing marches, the Spirit of Normandy group were brought past the Cenotaph, part of a long stream of veterans paying their homage, each bringing their own memories as they laid their wreaths.
Like a marathon runner determined to cross the line, the very last veteran in the march-past had got out of a wheelchair and was helped on to a walking frame, so he could walk upright past the Cenotaph.
It was a slow, stubborn defiance of the passing years, paying his respects his own way, when all the other groups had finished, cheered on by the crowds nearby on the pavement.
The youngest contingent was also an emotional moment, in a different way from the ranks of grey-haired ex-military marchers.
There were children and young people, from nine years old and upwards, who had lost a parent in the armed forces, brought together by the Scotty’s Little Soldiers charity. All those years of missing a loved one still to come.
