Anthem for Doomed Youth – Wilfred Owen

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Wilfred Owen, died November 4th 1918

The BBC broadcast a World War 1 drama in the week leading up to Remembrance Sunday, 2014. Entitled, ‘The Passing Bells’, it was about two young men, one German and one English, who join up under the ‘romantic’ idea of going to war to ‘have a go’ at the enemy.

Their beliefs are soon shattered though, when they finally see the true horrors of the Western Front.

Intrigued by the title, I looked it up and found that it was a reference from the Wilfred Owen poem,Anthem for a Doomed Youth. Owen himself, was killed on November 4th 1918.

Wilfred Edward Salter Owen was born on March 18th 1893 in Oswestry, Shropshire, England. He became synonymous with poetry that depicted the true horrors of trench warfare, the conditions, the death and the futility of war. His writings, along with those of his mentor, poet Siegfried Sassoon, starkly contrasted the propaganda of the government, who, in a drive to recruit more troops and prevent morale from falling back home, painted a much ‘nicer’, cleaner picture of the war.

Owen did not enlist straight away. It wasn’t until 1915 that he would join and once at the front, he would endure many atrocities and witness the realities of the First World War. Being injured himself and suffering from shell-shock, he would spend some time behind the lines in hospitals, before eventually being sent to Edinburgh, a place that would change him forever. It was here, that he met his friend and mentor, poet, Siegfried Sassoon.

Owen would return to Flanders in August 1918. Two months later, he led an attack on the German lines. Following a serious injury to his commanding officer, he took charge and overcame an enemy machine gun. For this action, Owen was awarded the Military Cross for bravery.

The end of the war was in sight, and one month later in November 1918, the armistice was signed, and peace once again fell over the fields of Flanders. However, in a further attack, just one week before the cessation of conflict, whilst making the crossing of the Sambre–Oise Canal, Owen would be killed, bringing this chapter of the young writer’s life to a final close.

Owen wrote many poems, and is considered one, if not the best World War One poet. He believed the government was more interested in the benefits they would receive from the war rather than the original reason of  supporting their ally. His writings reflected the pity and futility of this war, and his memory is commemorated in a number of memorials around the United Kingdom and France.

The BBC series, ‘The Passing Bells’, refers to Owens’ poem entitled ‘Anthem for Doomed Youth‘ that was written between September and October 1917.

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)

Wilfred Owen is buried in the community grave at Ors, near to where he fell. He is remembered in memorials including the Poets’ Corner’ in Westminster Abbey, and in a stained glass window in Birkenhead Central Library.

His writings and his memory, unlike his body, will live on in perpetuity.

“We live in trenches.

Underground, most of the time.

Like rabbits.

And it’s cold and dark and…

…noisy and wet,
and you just spend every second

wishing you were somewhere else.

But there’s a now-ness
to everything.

It’s like you’re seeing it
for the first time.

Like a blade of grass in the mud,
or…

…colours.

The sky is amazing.

You can smell the air.

Everything’s just more intense.

It’s like your brain’s
taking it all in…

…knowing it might be the last cloud
or blade of grass you’ll ever see…

…You see life…

disappear in front of you.

And, as it goes…

…you realise
just how precious it was.

That’s why I want us
to get married.”

– Quote from ‘The Passing Bells’ (BBC, 2014)

The quote from BBC’s ‘The Passing Bells’ was contributed by Marcella Beaudreau @LadyOfShalottMA

Notes:

orisons – prayers

pallor – pale / paleness

The Wilfred Owen Society have a website dedicated to the memory of Owen, and they include a number of photographs and discussion about his writings. If you wish to see the site click here.

The Soldier – Rupert Brooke

Rupert Brooke, died April 1915.

Known for his First World War sonnets, Rupert Brooke was born in Rugby, England, on August 3rd 1887. He attended two independent schools before going to Cambridge. Here he joined various literary groups where he made many friends and developed his interest in writing.

Following a difficult breakup with his girlfriend, Katherine Laird Cox, he went to Germany and then to both Canada and the United States, via the Pacific, where he wrote travel journals. Brooke returned to England just prior to the outbreak of war, and was commissioned into the Royal Naval Division.

One of Brooke’s first experiences of the war, was in the failed expedition in October 1914 to Antwerp. A year later, he would sail to the Dardanelles as part of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force, but received a mosquito bite and developed sepsis. Whilst receiving treatment on a French hospital ship, Brooke took a turn for the worse and died. His body was subsequently buried in an olive grove on the nearby Greek island of Skyros, where it remains today.

Brooke was one of the few, if not the only poet, to never experience the horrors of trench warfare, his poetry some say, reflects this.

Brooke’s poem, ‘The Soldier‘, was the fifth of five sonnets, all preceded by ‘The Treasure‘ written originally in 1914. It became truly famous when the Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral read it at the Easter Sunday service in 1915, three weeks prior to Brooke’s death.

 

The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:
  That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
  In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
  Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
  A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
  Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
  And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
   In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke

(August 3rd, 1887 – April 23rd, 1915)

Ypres 007

Ode to the Fallen.

As we approach Remembrance day (and Veteran’s day in America), Aviation Trails will be publishing a mix of poetry and aviation material in remembrance of those brave and courageous young men and women, who, from all nationalities, gave the ultimate sacrifice in war.

The numbers are staggering; during World War 1, there were some 37 million* deaths, (of which around 7 million were civilian). Thankfully, because the war was quite stationary, it did not create as many of the civilian casualties that were found in the Second World War. The higher number here being primarily military and serving personal. Defined as the ‘War to end all Wars’, it brought a devastating blow to societies across the European countries and their allies, as men flocked to the front and the mass slaughter that prevailed.

World War 2 on the other hand, due to the much faster, greater technological advancement that war brings, saw a much higher casuality rate. Over 60 million people died which amounted to approximately 2.5% of the world’s population*1. This is currently about the size of Nigeria, the world’s seventh largest country*2. The war was so widespread and devastating, that the actual number of casualties will never be known. A new type of war, it spread death and destruction to a much wider audience.

Subsequent wars, have also taken their toll, both in military and civilian terms. Continuing conflicts are, and will account for further deaths, and it is a sad reflection of the world we live in today.

So on this special weekend, during the 100th anniversary of the First World War, we remember those who have given so much so that the rest of us can live peacefully.

Memorials visited during the making of ‘Aviation Trails‘ can be seen here.

Ypres 007

Tyne Cot Cemetery, Belgium

 

Sources:

Whilst not official, Wikipedia gives some detailed accounts of countries and their casualties.

* Wikipedia, World War 1 Casualties;  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_I_casualties

*1 Wikipedia, World War 2 casualties; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_War_II_casualties

*2 Wikipedia, list of countries by population; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_population

20:45 – A tragic time for Mosquito KB 364

On this night 70 years ago (November 6th 1944), twelve RAF Mosquitoes from 608 Squadron, RAF Downham Market (Bexwell), took off on a raid to attack Gelsenkirchen, Germany.

Whilst the raid itself was a success, that night was to be the last for the two crew members of Mosquito KB 364. Pilot Officer James McLean (26) and Sergeant Mervyn Lambert Tansley (21) of the RAF(VR) were to die tragically on approach to Downham Market.

On the return journey, cold air and icy conditions are thought to have caused icing on the controls and wings of KB 364 making it difficult to control and lose height. What happened next was to be tragic, both for the crew members and the village of Bawdeswell.

To see the full story of that night and what happened at 20:45, November 6th 1944, click here

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DH Mosquito at the DH Heritage Centre

Plan a Trip to a WWII Aviation Heritage Site and Write a Guest Post

Where did the summer go? It was here, and now suddenly, the days are shorter, the sun less bright, and it’s autumn. Before the winter arrives, why not plan your own ‘aviation trail?’ It doesn’t even have to be a series of airfields. It could just be one. It could be a memorial, or a museum that tells the story of a part of Britain’s most impressive aviation history. It’s a lovely time for a road trip. The leaves are changing, the air is crisp and cool, and Britain’s aviation heritage is waiting… for you.

Have you ever wanted to write something of interest to you? To share with others your thoughts, impressions and words, and to actually see them in print? Here is your opportunity!

‘Aviation Trails’ is inviting you to take an autumn journey to an RAF airfield(s) or other aviation heritage site of your choice. While you are there, remember to take along a notebook to jot down some thoughts and ideas, and of course, take some photographs. If it is an airfield, as you walk about, try to imagine it as it must have been when it was bustling with activity during the days of World War II, when the roar of Merlins vibrated through the air, so often, it became the norm. If it is a memorial or a museum, take time to consider the sacrifices made by those brave men and women and how their lives and the lives of their loved ones, were forever altered by the course of World War II.

When you return home, have a go at writing your very own blog post. Do you know any stories about this airfield, memorial or museum that you have heard over the years? Is there someone in your family who served in the RAF or USAAF and was stationed at one of these airfields?  Since Andy last visited some of these airfields, have there been changes you noticed? We would love to hear some of your stories, to learn what you know, and then to be able to share that with our readers.

Once you have completed your post (and be sure to include a few photographs), submit it to: aviationtrails@yahoo.co.uk – We will have a look and consider your piece for publication as part of ‘Aviation Trails’ as a ‘Guest Post.’

This is one of the final weeks for aviation-related events as it is the autumn half-term break for most of the schools across England. Due to this, there will be some airfields offering ‘Open Days’ for museums, as well as other special events that encourage people to visit before the season comes to a close.  I will try to include some of those details below, but it is always best to check out the websites on your own beforehand to find out about opening and closing times, admission fees, etc.

For this post, I’ve decided to focus the suggestions on Lincolnshire, also known as “Bomber Country’. Many of these airfields, museums, memorials and attractions were covered by Andy in Trail 1: Lower Lincolnshire, so you can find additional information and links to museums and such on that page. To have a look, see the link here.

Some of the more well-known airfields and attractions in Lower Lincolnshire include:

  • RAF East Kirkby (Open Mon. – Sat. 9:30 am-5:00 pm through end of Oct.). Also. special event on Sat. 1st Nov. 2014: Lancaster night, taxi runs and fireworks).
  • RAF Woodhall Spa
  • RAF Coningsby (Andy provides very helpful information about the viewing area around Coningsby, so take a look at the link above for his Trail 1).
  • Thorpe-Camp Visitor Centre (Open Sundays 1:00-5:00 pm through end of Oct. and by appointment). Also, on Wed. 29th Oct. 2014 – Coningsby Spotters Get Together).
  • Dambusters Memorial
  • The Petwood Hotel (of Guy Gibson fame)

That being said, you might be in an entirely different county. Please do not feel left out! There are many areas Andy has yet  to have the opportunity to visit, and we would LOVE to hear about an RAF airfield, memorial or museum in a county not covered on one of the ‘aviation trails.’ Please feel free to visit one near you, and then write about what you know; tell us about the stories you have heard, or tell us about your family member who once bravely served at one of these airfields.

Before long, these RAF airfields will be but a distant memory. You will no longer have the opportunity to visit as you do now. Inevitably, as we have seen all over England (e.g. Manston Airport), these treasured places of Britain’s aviation past will be developments with rows of  houses and not a remnant of their once glorious past or the brave men and women who served to protect their beloved England.

So, do not miss your chance to visit an RAF airfield, a memorial or a museum, and give yourself a chance to be the writer you always wanted to be.

If you have any questions or suggestions, please feel free to email us.

Marcella M. Beaudreau (@LadyofShalottMA)

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Autumn leaves at Downham Market

 

17 Trails Around Britain’s Lost Airfields

As a youngster, I was fascinated by aircraft, the Second World War and the airfields that the brave young men of the RAF and USAAF  flew from. A mixture of nationalities, they gave their lives without hesitation or question.

My interest and love of this period extended to the Cold War, to fast jets and amazing feats of aerobatics that defy logic and gravity. I would badger my parents into visiting a nearby airfield when on holiday, I would stand eyes skyward watching as the roar of a jet came and went. Books were collected, photos gathered and dreams made.

As an adult, I started visiting these old sites, and more recently began the blog chronicling my experiences for those who wish to share them with me.

So far, I have covered 17 trails, which include  over 40 airfields ranging from Lincolnshire to Kent, Norfolk to Northamptonshire. As I travel further afield, my experiences, the people I meet and the stories I find, never fail to amaze me.

Why not come on a voyage of discovery and nostalgia; choose a trail; see what part they played and see what remains of those places today.

Click on the links below to see some of the pages in the site.

Choose your Aviation Trail.

See the memorials to these people.

Read about heroic tales and acts of bravery.

Find out about the inspiration behind my love of aviation, my father.

View the interactive map.

DSC_0025Mepal peri track south of the Airfield

to sort 412

The only navigator to receive the MOH in WW2

Robert Femoyer.jpg

Robert Femoyer 711th BS, 447BG

Flying from RAF Rattlesden, Suffolk, England, navigator 2nd Lt. Robert E. Femoyer earned the Medal of Honour for action whilst on a mission to Merseburg. During this operation, he showed the highest level of dedication to his crew, performing a selfless act of bravery whilst being severely and fatally wounded.

Born October 31st 1921, Huntington, West  Virginia, USA, he was the eldest child of Edward and Mary Femoyer. and attended Virginia Polytechnic Institute in Blacksburg, Virginia.

On 11th November 1942 Robert Femoyer enlisted and joined the Reserve Corps. He didn’t take up active duty until the following February when he began his basic training at Miami Beach, Florida. He joined the Army Air Corps in that same month and became a cadet at the University of Pittsburgh. He received his commission at the AAF Navigation School at Selman Field, Louisiana in 1943 and graduated, without gaining his wings, in 1944.

With his second lieutenant bars firmly under his belt, Femoyer received his first posting; and in September 1944 he left with the 711th Bomb Squadron as part of the 447th Bomb Group, Eighth Airforce. As a navigator he would determine routes and ensure the safe flight of his aircraft and other crew members to the bomb target and home.

On his fifth and final mission , and only a few days after his 23rd birthday, on November 2, 1944, the 711th attacked an oil refinery at Merseburg, near Leipzig, Germany. The B-17 he was in, was battered, hit several times by flak, and had two of the four engines damaged. The aircraft was difficult to fly and the navigational instruments were left almost useless. Femoyer himself had received shrapnel wounds to his side and back, was bleeding heavily and in a great deal of pain.

The B-17 quickly lost both height and speed and was forced to leave the formation, making it more vulnerable to attack from fighters, but Femoyer was not going let his compatriots down.

Deciding to turn for home the pilot asked for a route.  In response, Femoyer, determined to keep a clear head, refused all medical assistance before planning their escape route home. He insisted he was propped up so he could read his maps, the injury to his body making sitting extremely difficult. Guiding the pilot safely around heavy flak zones, they eventually reached the safety of the English coast, where then, and only then, did Femoyer allow morphine and other medical aid to be administered. The pilot managed to guide the stricken aircraft home where upon landing at RAF Rattlesden, Femoyer was removed from his post, weak and having lost of lot of blood, and taken to hospital where he sadly died about an hour later.

For his valour and courage he was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honour, and his citation read:

“For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty near Merseburg, Germany, on Nov. 2, 1944. While on a mission, the bomber, of which 2d Lt. Femoyer was the navigator, was struck by three enemy antiaircraft shells. The plane suffered serious damage and 2d Lt. Femoyer was severely wounded in the side and back by shell fragments which penetrated his body. In spite of extreme pain and great loss of blood he refused an offered injection of morphine. He was determined to keep his mental faculties clear in order that he might direct his plane out of danger and so save his comrades. Not being able to arise from the floor, he asked to be propped up in order to enable him to see his charts and instruments. He successfully directed the navigation of his lone bomber for 2 1/2 hours so well it avoided enemy flak and returned to the field without further damage. Only when the plane had arrived in the safe area over the English Channel did he feel that he had accomplished his objective; then, and only then, he permitted an injection of a sedative. He died shortly after being removed from the plane. The heroism and self-sacrifice of 2d Lt. Femoyer are in keeping with the highest traditions of the 447th Bomb Group and the U.S. Army Air Corps.”

The body of 2nd Lt. Robert Edward Femoyer was returned to the United States to his adopted Florida home, and was buried in Greenlawn Cemetery in Jacksonville, Florida, Section 8, Lot 2.  Florida historical resources list him as one of their own war heroes. His college, Virginia Tech, named a building the ‘Femoyer Hall’ in his honor in 1949 and in 2001, a stretch of West Virginia Route 152 from the Fifth Street crossing with Interstate 64 to the Huntington city limits, was officially designated Robert Femoyer Boulevard. Numerous air force bases have also named streets in his honour.

Robert Femoyer was the only American navigator to have received the Medal of Honour during service in World War Two and remains a Florida hero to this day.

Few, if any, photos survive of Femoyer, but others of his squadron are at: http://www.447bg.com/Contacts.htm

For other heroic tales click here.

RAF Rattlesdon today

RAF Rattlesdon today

Source compiled from U.S. Air Force Office of History.

For the Fallen – Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

To all those who went before, Laurence Binyon’s 1914 poem is widely used in remembrance services across the world. It was published 100 years ago today. http://wp.me/P4xjD9-8u

For the Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death August and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

(Published in The Times newspaper, 21st September 1914).

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For the Fallen – Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

‘For the Fallen’ – Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)

On the anniversary of the Start of World War One, we remember those who gave their all.  In remembrance, we use a verse from the Poem ‘For the Fallen’ written by Laurence Binyon in 1914.

A poem of 7 stanzas, it was first published in September of that year. This is the poem in its entirety.

For the Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death August and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

(Published in The Times newspaper on 21st September 1914).

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For the Fallen – Laurence Binyon (1869-1943)