A sleek, dark Rolls Royce draws up at an East London Crematorium joining cars, taxis and pedestrians making their way from bus and tube stations. Some mourners have travelled the length of the country to be there, others only from nearby Tower Hamlets. The congregation that is slowly coalescing is there to celebrate the life of a veteran, a 61-year-old former soldier called Ian Douglas, who died on 28 November 2014.
Ian was a quiet, gentle individual who came to the charity Veterans Aid as a homeless man, 13 years ago. He shared little about his earlier life with those who lived alongside him at its New Belvedere House hostel, but he touched everyone who knew him.
Robbed of speech by an accident long ago, his playful winks, smiles and gestures gave him eloquence beyond words. Life had taken its toll but, when well enough, he liked to dance, listen to classical music and, although unprepossessing in appearance, was clearly a man of intelligence and sensitivity.
His sudden and unexpected passing – before Christmas worked its magical transformation of New Belvedere House – cast a shadow over what must surely be the happiest ‘homeless hostel’ in Britain.
To the 55 veterans of all ages who occupy its single rooms until they get back on their feet, it is a refuge, a resting place and, while typically only for eight months or so, a home.
Veterans Aid is a family – from its elegant but ‘hands-on’ Patron, The Dowager Viscountess Rothermere, to men whose first new suit in years was purchased by the charity. It is an organisation significantly more than the sum of its parts; an eclectic collection of former soldiers, sailors, airmen and civilians drawn from all walks of life, yet united by passionate support for the organisation of which they are part.
The smart and impeccably presented veterans gathering to pay their last respects to Ian Douglas had something else in common. All, at one time, had been homeless. All had got their lives back through Veterans Aid. Almost half had taken time off work to be at the funeral.
On the bright, cold Wednesday morning of his cremation more than 50 of them – members of Ian’s surrogate family – lined up without instruction to greet the hearse bearing his coffin.
In a unifying echo of military life they were called to attention by Veterans Aid CEO, Wing Commander Dr Hugh Milroy, as the cortège approached.
For a moment, regardless of age or length of service, each man was back on the parade ground, standing straight-backed and proud to mark the passing of a fallen comrade. Poignant and intimate, it was a gesture of affection and honour.
Released by the command to ‘stand at ease’ the men watched pallbearers – there had been many volunteers – carry Ian’s coffin, draped with a Union Jack, into the Chapel of Rest.
They filed in silently behind it, following the hostel manager and members of her team.
Ian’s moving eulogy was delivered haltingly, by her deputy; a former Parachute Regiment NCO who had also once experienced homelessness. He spoke to a congregation struggling with emotions. In the period allowed for private contemplation, while a piped Scottish lament was played, several of the veterans present stepped up to Ian’s coffin – to touch, salute it or simply nod respectfully.
Ian Douglas was once a soldier, but his real battle was fought against life and as the Last Post sounded every man in that crowded chapel had reason to reflect on his own journey.
Outside in the watery sunlight bouquets of flowers bearing Ian’s name were displayed. The largest was from Veterans Aid, alongside a bouquet of perfect white roses from Lady Rothermere.
Others were from fellow veterans whose lives had been touched by this quiet, formerly homeless man who, in another lifetime, had served with The Royal Signals.
Milroy said after the funeral, “In the period before his death, Ian’s health had deteriorated. He could do little for himself but was cared for at New Belvedere House with tenderness and love. He didn’t die in a doorway, invisible and unacknowledged, just another anonymous homeless man. He died knowing he had comrades and a ‘military family’ that stood by him to the end.
“Sadly Ian’s wasn’t the first funeral that Veterans Aid has organised and paid for and it won’t be the last, but this man once walked barefoot in his pyjamas from a hospital in Kent, to get back to us when the only word he could articulate was ‘home’.
Normally we look forward to the day when New Belvedere House residents leave, to pick up the threads of their lives again, but Ian was too unwell for that ever to happen, so we made an exception.
“He enriched the lives of everyone who knew him and his legacy, as part of our extension and improvement plans for the hostel, will be a single high support unit, called The Ian Douglas Suite. He will be remembered.”
