Remembrance Sunday November 2022

At the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month 1918, the guns on the western front fell silent. Four years of war in which millions were either killed or wounded, towns and villages wiped from the map and the environment changed forever, had finally come to an end. All along the front line, men were soon to put down their arms and leave their trenches for home.

The war to end all wars had finally come to an end. During the last four years some 40 million people had been killed or wounded, many simply disappeared in the mud that bore no preference to consuming man or machine.

Back home, virtually no city, town, village or hamlet was left unscathed by the loss of those four years. Many who returned home were changed, psychologically many were wounded beyond repair.

Sadly, twenty years later, the world slipped into the abyss of war once more. A war that saw some of the most incredible horrors, one that saw the extreme capabilities of what man can do to his fellow-man. Across the world millions of innocent people were slaughtered under the guise of an ideology. An ideology that was determined to rid the world of anyone who was willing to speak out against that very same ideology.

Young men were transported thousands of miles to fight in environments completely alien to them. Many had never been beyond their own home town and yet here they were in foreign lands fighting a foe they had never even met.

The bravery and self-sacrifice of those young men  on the seas, on the land and in the air, go beyond anything we can offer as repayment today.

For nearly 80 years, the world has been at an uneasy rest, Korea, Vietnam, the Falklands, the Middle East, and the Far East, in almost every corner of the globe there has been a war in which our service men and women have been involved. The war to end all wars failed in its aim to bring peace to the world.

In this year, 104 years after the end of the First World War, we remember those who laid down their lives in the fight for freedom. We remember those who fought for the right to free speech, for the right to be who you are and the right to live our lives in peace.

We will remember them…

War Graves Cemetery - St Mary's Great Bircham

St Mary’s Great Bircham

St. Clement Danes - Church of the RAF

The rosette of the Commonwealth Air Forces – St. Clement Danes

Ypres 007

Tyne Cot, Ypres

DSC_0587

The American Cemetery Madingley

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds.

Wilfred Owen (18/3/1893 – 4/11/1914)

RAF Little Snoring – Honours and Awards

In the heart of the Norfolk countryside stands a quaint little church with a round turret. Standing proud on top of a hill just outside the nearby village, the church holds a rare and unique collection of war records.

RAF Little Snoring (Trail 22) was home to a number of squadrons including the rare Bristol Hercules engined Lancaster IIs of both 1678 HCU and 115 Sqn and latterly units of 100 Group flying amongst others, the DH Mosquito.

At the end of the war the airfield was closed down, used primarily as a storage site for surplus aircraft prior to scrapping.

Many of the buildings were pulled down and runways dug up returning the site to its primary use of agriculture. Whilst a small section survived along with two hangars and a now derelict control tower, the church has become the holder of a rare collection.

In the Officers Mess of Little Snoring were four boards painstakingly hand painted by L.a.c Douglas Higgins of 23 Squadron between 1944 and 1945, on which the ‘Kills’ of the squadrons were recorded for prosperity. Never intended to be more than a trophy board, they have now become a unique ‘diary’ of the events that took place in the latter part of the Second World War.

The boards of St. Andrew’s holds a unique record

The four boards stand on the back wall of the church and were rescued by a local villager (Mrs E. Whitehead  the church warden) on demolition of the officers mess. The two to the left, list the ‘victories’ and the two to the right the squadron honours.

The first victory is listed as “30.1.44, 169 Sqn, S/L Cooper. F/Lt Connolly. Brandenburg Area. Me 110 destroyed”. The final entry shows eight unidentified aircraft as ‘damaged’ by F/Lt Davis and F.O. Cronin of 515 Sqn over the Kaufbeurin Airfield on the 24th, April 1945.

The first of the four boards starts 30th January 1944

Perhaps one of the most interesting entries is that of 20th, March 1945 when the Station Browning Battery of RAF Little Snoring damaged an attacking Ju 88 on an intruder mission.

A range of aircraft appear on the boards including: Do 217, Me 109, Me 110s, Me 262s, Ju 88s, Ju 52s, Fw 190s and Heinkel’s 111 and larger 177 bombers. Many of the latter entries being for action over enemy airfields toward the closing months of the war.

The final entry is dated 24th April 1945

The honours boards go back slightly earlier. The first 13 entires go to 115 Sqn for a range of honours including the:DFM, DFC and  DSO,  which began on August 1943 when Sergeant Rosonbloom was awarded the DFM.

The final entry is a mention in despatches for L.a.c , G.E. Harper, in September 1944.

Next to the boards is a moving and thoughtful poem written by L.a.c. S. Ruffle on his return to Little Snoring post war. He tells the tale of the airfield through his eyes and about his wartime friend, creater of the board, Douglas Higgins, even referring to the boards in his poem.

These boards stand as a reminder of both the many brave actions of crews and the airfield defence staff,  they are a permanent record of action from a small airfield tucked away in the Norfolk countryside.

Ruffles’s poem recalls his time at Little Snoring.

Memorial Garden Opening 

Mixing my day job with my hobby is not usual but I felt this was more than worthy of a post.

For some time now I have been toying with the idea of a Memorial Garden at school tied in with the various topic work that we have been doing, which is linked to both the World War I and VE-day commemorations.

The idea really came to fruition in sort early last year when I approached the head of the school and put the idea to her. With enthusiasm the go ahead was given and the children were approached with the idea as an after school club. A small group volunteered to help and we began planning.

On June 18th 2015 the plan finally came together.

The Memorial at the Centre of the Garden.

As people arrived they were greeted with refreshments and displays of work, photos of family members along with artefacts gathered or brought in by friends and parents. My good friend Kevin Fleckner brought four original uniform and bits from a crashed B-17 for us to show.

At 17:15 two RAF Tornado jets from RAF Marham flew overhead. The first low and slow, the second 15 seconds behind, higher and much faster with her wings swept. Over the school, she banked and the crowd waved. The event had opened.

The head then read a short introduction and it was my turn. I have to tell you that public speaking is not my forte and whilst I had been a little nervous I stood at the podium and the nerves vanished. My speech went thus:

June 18th 2015 is a special day. Not just because we’re opening this beautiful space, but for several iconic reasons. 200 years ago today the British and French forces were locked in arms at the Battle of Waterloo. 75 years ago today Winston Churchill made his famous “this was their finest hour” speech. Two dates that will go down in history as both important and momentous.

But these ae not the only significant dates in history.

100 years ago last year in 1914 young men in their thousands signed up with excitement for what they thought would be the war to end all wars. However, the war they thought would be over by Christmas went on for four long years. In the killing fields of Flanders, young men, many barely older than 16 or 17 were slaughtered in their thousands, living in mud and rat infested trenches very few were to survive. If not killed by the constant shelling, sniper fire or the slow march through no man’s land, many would suffer shell shock, a brutal psychological illness that would eat away at the very heart and soul of the young men. Eventually, in 1918 the First World War ended, the guns fell silent and Europe could finally begin rebuilding once more.

Sadly man’s inhumanity to man was to raise its ugly head again. In 1939, Europe was plunged once more into war with the German invasion of Poland. As The mighty Nazi war machine blitzkrieged its way across Europe, the British Armed Forces once more fought bravely in the name of freedom and democracy.

From the beaches of Dunkirk to the defence of Britain in the skies over Kent, the landing grounds of Normandy, to the battles in the Ardennes, Arnhem, over the Rhine and eventually the battle for Berlin itself, the brutality of war would once more be seen again.

The civilian population of Europe was to suffer greatly too. The blitz of our cities and the bombing of European targets that killed thousands upon thousands as bombs rained down from the sky. The concentration camps, death camps and prisoners of war camps saw a brutality on a scale that was and still is, incomprehensible.

From the hot deserts of Africa through the warm seas of the Mediterranean to the freezing conditions of the Arctic convoys, young men would bravely fight without question many paying the ultimate and final sacrifice.

Eventually, on 8th May 1945, the war in Europe finally ended and Peace reigned once more. However, the killing went on in the Far East. On the Pacific Islands of Okinawa, Saipan, Iwo Jima and Guadalcanal, The fighting continued in some of the most brutal conditions known to man. Eventually on August 15th 1945. UK time, following the Americans dropping the world’s most devastating and horrific bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, war was declared finally over. The world has now entered the atomic age and six years of war had left it scars across Europe, the Middle East, The Far East, in the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans and across both the northern and Southern Hemispheres. Across the world millions lay dead, injured, homeless or orphaned. In the words of our distinguished guests here today “There are no winners in war.”

If there is one thing that history can teach us, it is that man is unable to live at peace with his fellow-man. Whether it be disputes over territory, natural resources or religious ideologies, War has continued to be fought and young men and women have continued to die.

In post-World War 2, the world lived on a knife-edge; the Cuban missile crisis being the ultimate stand-off between the east and west. From Korea and Vietnam to the Falkland Islands, the Middle Eastern countries of Iraq and Afghanistan, Britain and her allies have continued to fight for peace and democracy something we here take very much for granted.

It is in the name of these young men and women that we have built this memorial garden, so that their memories and their sacrifice may live on in the hearts and minds of future generations. It is so that we can pay homage and remember the dedication, bravery and self-sacrifice that they have shown so that we may live today without fear and in freedom.

It is to these people that I say thank you. Thank you for willing to lay down your life so we may freely speak out against injustice. To those who never came home, who paid the ultimate sacrifice, may you forever rest in peace. Thank you

Next one of the children read what the garden meant to him. Un-nerved by the occasion, he told how his father passed on his grandfathers tales of the war, how it means he can enjoy the peace and tranquility and he made a remarkably moving speech from the heart.

We then had a young lady from the group read in full the Robert Lawrence Binyon poem ‘For the fallen’. Short gasps from some of the audience told me they didn’t realise where the Remembrance Day words came from as it appears in the middle of the poem. She too read fluently and without falter, quite an achievement. Both these children were only just 10/11 years old.

A blessing by the vicar led us into the last post and a two minutes silence for those who had paid the ultimate sacrifice. A number of visiting Vets saluted, the Air Training Cadets lowered the colours and all went silent. Not a sound bar the cool wind in the adjacent trees.

My Good Friends Baz and Helen, whom helped enormously, John and Tony the Veterans and Kevin, who brought a number of uniforms and bits for us to display.

After the reveille the colours were raised and the two veterans invited to open the memorial officially. One Tony, a Normandy D-day+1 vet and the other John, who fought from Africa against Rommel’s Tigers, through Italy up into the continent, stood either side. As they lifted the flag, John declared the garden open to applause from the gathered audience. The children then sang unaccompanied Vera Lynn’s “We’ll meet again”; many from the audience joined in. The event closed and photos were taken around the memorial.

I estimated around 150 people, which for a small school of 68 children is remarkable. We had veterans from Cambridge a good hour and half away,  visitors from Northampton another similar distance and a large number of folk from the village turn up.

The seating before people started to arrive. There were many more standing, being a small school. we simply didn’t have enough chairs!

The feedback from visitors was superb and everyone was buzzing.

A real team effort, the long evenings, the hard work and recent battle against moles had all been worth while.

We had texts and emails from those who were there praising the efforts. It all worked out far better than even I had envisaged.

We shall miss it. We had great fun, even the odd beer or two, but it has been a real bonding exercise, we have become a little ‘family’ and are really proud of our achievements.

I passed on the good wishes to the children whom I think are quite overwhelmed themselves. They did a fantastic job and were superb role models for others to follow.

The Garden as it is today. We shall seed the outside, and continue the fight with the moles. An area for relaxation and thought.

We shall continue to nurture and maintain the Garden and watch it grow. The children use it already and do enjoy it. The rose in the crown were the poppies. Made out of clay, they are all handmade by the children mounted on metal rods and bunched in groups of 3 or 4. They do look superb.

There were small stumbling blocks along the way, and these caused delays but none so great we couldn’t deal with them. All in all it went beautifully, far, far better than I ever imagined and the finished product, I hope you’ll agree, is stunning.

An article appeared in the paper on the following day, Saturday here’s a link.

Death of a Ball Turret Gunner – Randall Jarrell.

ball

A Ball Turret, the home to many young men.1

There have been many poems written around the theme of death and dying in the line of duty. Some have become ‘classics’ known and used world-wide. Others have remained unknown but to those who wrote them.

Often written by young men, they reflect the horror of war , the conditions in which they served and lived , the sense of hopelessness and never-ending feeling of not knowing if today would be your last. Written in the latter stages of the Second World War and published in 1945, ‘The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner‘ is a short poem by Randall Jarrell. Jarrell, too old to serve as a Combat Pilot himself, served as an instructor and wrote many works around the theme of war. He reflects in this piece about the ‘matter-of-factness’ of war and death and how men (or boys) are slaughtered with little thought or remorse.

‘Death of a Ball Turret Gunner’ is about the death of a gunner in the underbelly of an American bomber.

“From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.”

Jarrell, added his own explanation, describing how the ball turret resembled a mother’s womb and the “short small man”, the gunner within, a foetus.

As a ball gunner, you were exposed to exploding cannon shells. Spinning round and round contoured into all sorts of positions. Your only companion being the two .50 calibre machine guns that rattled their violent disgust. Many have analysed the work, it has been the inspiration for a play, published with illustrations and referred to in many literature works.

To me. It’s more simple. The work of a young man whose life was turned upside down, taken from the safety of his home, put into a killing machine and then discarded with little thought when life is extinguished.

The poem appears in many publications and websites, I found this copy on Wikipedia at:

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Death_of_the_Ball_Turret_Gunner

A biographical account of Jarrell can be found here.

1 Photo courtesy of Marcella.

Other poems can be found here.