Ghost Parade: The Story Behind the Track

From the late seventies and through the eighties, I served with the 16th Air Defence, Royal Artillery.

We were young, and we didn't think much about what came after. We just stood together.

We were young and stood together
Through the mud, cold and grime

Forty years on, most of the lads have found each other again on Facebook. There's a group. People share old photos, argue about who was where, and laugh at haircuts we'd rather forget.

And then, every so often, a different kind of post appears.

A name. Has passed away.

Sometimes it's someone I haven't thought about in decades. Sometimes it's someone I think about all the time. Either way, the name lands the same. There's no warning and no last goodbye, just a short message and a space where a brother used to be.

Another morning, another message
A name I haven't seen in years

That's where Ghost Parade came from.

I'm not naming anyone. They're all one. Every name I carry walks with the others, through the places we went, the barracks, the roads, the bars, and the cold mornings. The parade doesn't stop. It just marches slower.

No one asks you how you hold
All the names that never grow old

Nobody tells you about that part. You leave, life moves on, and years later you find yourself making a brew, staring out of the window, and feeling them in the room.

The song ends with a spoken line. I didn't plan it. It just came out.

Until the last of us is there.

Today is 11 November. If you served, this one's for you. If you didn't, I hope it gives you a glimpse of what some of us carry quietly.

Press play, and march with them for a few minutes.