Showing posts with label RFC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label RFC. Show all posts

Tuesday 25 May 2021

Remembrance or Obsession Plus Time Drifting Away

 

                                         Sgt Jez Doak RAF?MOD

I often wonder about people who study the Great War.  
On my Twitter feed there are many, apparently normal, men who spend an enormous amount of time visiting war graves to 'pay their respects.'  On occasion I begin to wonder if these men are trapped in a war fantasy.  I quite understand the desire to know more about the two major wars, individual stories and actions, I see the interest there clearly.  However, it appears to me something is not quite right.  Many such men are living near the Great War Battlefields in France and Flanders, just up from their homes lie several war cemeteries, and during good years they often act as guides to the areas of action, relating stories learnt over many years and often from ex-servicemen themselves.  
But I sometimes wonder if they lack something in their lives?
Men require something they can attach themselves to.  Many spend an enormous amount of time reading ancient railway timetables, others visit war graves, still others rebuild ancient cars or motorbikes, some are 'Star Wars' fantasists, some support a local football team, all fine and respectable activities, although those that have wives, and not all do, may find the women have differing opinions to them.  Women, for reasons of their own may not like a house disguised as a railway station, or a football museum.  Some go to far and yell and scream when the engine of the BSA 250 is found in bits on her best tablecover, or yet again the young nephew is being regaled, willingly or not, about the 'Retreat from Mons' for the umpteenth time.  
Women are strange.
Why do men require such obsessions?  
I suppose they could become obsessed with drink or drugs, neither of which do much good in the long term, a gardening obsession could at least feed you and fill the house with attractive flowers, and the accompanying beasties.  Other obsessions could be found which may not please the wife nor be so useful.  
I wonder about men who spend their time 'paying respects' at war graves.  I appreciate remembrance from most people, I wonder about it with such men however.  Some may well have been in the forces, others have no war experience.  
It just makes me wonder if they really comprehend the individuals whom they stand before.  Do they think dead servicemen are greater than men around them today?  If so they clearly do not understand the men involved.  These were ordinary men of their day, just like those around them now, not 'Heroes' for the most part, certainly not the 'Best Generation' as the gutter press would have it, these were just men forced into a Great War, their sons forced into the second war, often without ever knowing their fathers.  Good men, often producing heroic actions, bad men, living off everyone around them and committing war crimes, most men, just responding in a good or bad manner to the situation trapping them.  Some enjoyed war, some hated it, especially those who got hurt, some profited from their time, others lost much.  But do these men standing at their graves really see the real man under the slab?
Just what does drive them to 'pay respects' so often in this way?  We all pay respects at least once a year, what causes this reaction, annually, monthly weekly even daily with such men?  An obsession with war that is in their minds or an understanding of the real thing?  
Also, if they respect the dead like this do they also consider the wounded of recent wars?  Those suffering PTSD and all too often committing suicide months or years after serving?  It is easier to remember the long dead than the suffering living today.


My knackered bodies day was complete as when leaving Tesco I got caught in a downpour.  Forgetting to eat last night turns out not to have been a good idea.  Carrying a bag full of veg (how come it was so heavy?) did not appeal either.  Lockdown has not helped my fitness.  
Standing puffing under a tree, many were doing this while the rain hammered down, I glanced at the back door of the 'Subway' opposite.  I was interested in the year '1902' with initials vaguely seen high up, as people sometimes argue about when this row of shops appeared.  However it took a moment or two before I realised the TV seen opposite that made me wonder again was in fact part of the air control system in the shop.  At least I think it is.  No matter how smart a shop may look from the front it is always worth a look round the rear, an impressive image of a business can be gleamed this way.
 
 
Who is stealing time?  
I arose at 7:22 this morning, slowly as normal, yet within minutes this clock claimed it was 10:22!
This does not make sense to me.
After the Tesco trip I found time to eat sausage rolls and drink tea, next thing it was 4:22!
Who keeps stealing the time?
Now I have time to myself I note it is almost 7pm, what is going on?
Worse than this is the calendar.
The other day it was early March, today is the 25th of May!  
What happened in between?  Who stole the days?
Time is rushing past just to fast for some of us.  When will it stop?

 

Tuesday 8 November 2011

Rmember



Remember if you will the men of Great Britain's fledgling air force who flew across the short distance from Dover to Boulogne and on deep into France.  Initially some 60 machines entered service, many of them frail Avro 504's pictured above, and began work observing enemy maneuvers.  This was not always appreciated.  As the British second Corps made its way to the small mining town of Mons the pilot of one such aircraft stopped to inform Field Marshall John French, head of the British force, of the vast numbers of German infantry approaching. He was not believed!  Instead French wished to discuss his aircraft with him and refused to accept his news.  He soon realised his mistake.  The British II Corps numbered around 40,000 men, the Germany army approaching numbered around 600,000.  The defence of the canal above Mons was a resounding success and after a days hard fighting the enemy was stopped in his tracks with vast casualties and the 'contemptible little army' was considering advancing to chase them back home.  However to their right the French army had also met a complete, and efficient, German foe and began to withdraw, with the French 'not bothering' to inform the British of their intentions. Aircraft spotted not only the French withdrawal but also a third army marching around the left flank.  Thus began the famous long 'retreat to the Marne' in hot summer weather. Had those slow Royal Flying Corps surveillance aircraft not flown over Mons half the British army could have been engulfed! 
From observation these aircraft turned to photography, and fighting and then bombing.  Each few months saw advances in the power and killing properties of the machines, and while they flew higher and higher the comfort of the pilots was of no consideration. No parachutes meant a fire at 16,000 feet led to certain death, survival meant lack of oxygen affected the pilots abilities, cold cut deep into them, the stress of war led to mistakes and accidents, and the average life expectancy was around three weeks!  These early young men, rarely above their early twenties, often failing to reach twenty years of age before their death, were the beginning of the air force which today uses the Typhoon fighter, a plane so powerful that computers are required to enable the pilot to control the plane, no human brain can cope!  
Remember these men.     








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