A sad scene as ageing Orangemen lead the march to the barricades

It is by now probably the world's best-known church

It is by now probably the world's best-known church. Yesterday its doors remained closed as about 600 members of the Orange Order paraded with five bands from the top of the road, past the 19th century building and down to the steel barricade that has been the focus of world attention for the past 10 days.

What could have been the shortest parade in Orange history had been lengthened by moving the starting line back about a mile from the main Drumcree road.

The mood was sombre, the scene sad as the Portadown district lodge marched by the Drumcree Church of the Ascension. The colour party of ageing Orangemen in bowler hats, neatly pressed suits and collarettes with rows of gleaming medals led the march to the barricade, before doing a quick turn about and parading back up and into the field.

They were followed by other bands including the Scottish "Sons of William - Glenmavis" band and a large number of younger men.

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The security barricade, which aimed to prevent "eyeball to eyeball" contact between protesters and security forces, has been dubbed "Checkpoint Charlie" and is now daubed with a red, white and blue tricolour - not in support of the World Cup winners but to represent the colours of the more complicated Union Jack flag.

The unionist anthem, The Sash, repeated endlessly by bands and flute players throughout the now 11-day-old crisis, echoed as the Star of David Accordion band led the parade, drumming it out for the audience. One member of the ex-services lodge, who did not wish to be named, reflected the general despondency when he said the situation was "desperate. It's a disaster."

Wearing his bowler hat, and Orange sash with a string of medals including a "Spirit of Drumcree 1995" emblem, he said he had been there from day one and would be staying. "I just go home to change and have a wash."

Why wouldn't the nationalists let them down the road? "We're not going to bite," he said. "They could do the same as they did in Belfast." He believed there was a "whole lot of Roman Catholic people" who wanted them to come down the Garvaghy road. "They are tied by Sinn Fein/IRA."

There was no way they should talk to the chairman of the residents' association, whom he called by the English version of his name - Brendan McKenna. Another Orangeman had earlier grudgingly said that the residents' chairman "did a good job for that side. I'll give him that."

The ex-services member wasn't happy with the police either. "They're on £39 an hour. They want this to go on as long as it possibly can because they've got big mortgages and they're up to their eyes in debt."

Security force critics were everywhere but unwilling to be identified. One Orange member, who had been at the field on Thursday night, the night of the most intense violence, dismissed the RUC figures of about 450 plastic baton rounds.

"The RUC's account of the number of plastic bullets fired was as accurate as a businessman sending in his tax returns." The speaker admitted to being a businessman himself.

In the field a row of burger and chip vans did a reasonable trade between bouts of torrential rain. And along the road a sinister sounding anagram "HVF" on a gun club notice was explained by an Orangeman.

"During the road protests police told people they could not block the roads but they could heckle - hence the Heckling Volunteer Force." At a caravan, a photo of the murdered LVF leader, Billy Wright, which had been taken down on Sunday, was back up on display for the parade.

After the parade, the sombre band music over the loudspeaker changed to a country and western version of a loyalist song pledging that the Orange Flag of Liberty would fly on Ulster's masts. The Irish tricolour was flying on every telegraph pole on Garvaghy road, something that enrages unionists.

When asked about compromises, the Catholic community varies. "Look, they could come through my kitchen for all I care, so long as they ask me," said one resident. "But that's the thing. They have to recognise this community."

For others, walking the road is no longer an option. "They will not get down the road again. Last year was it," said another. "They will never accept us."

Marie O'Halloran

Marie O'Halloran

Marie O'Halloran is Parliamentary Correspondent of The Irish Times