These beautiful images were sent by my good friends in Schwanheim, Germany. Thanks to them, the memory of the demise of RAF bomber EE893 and many of it’s crew on that night in 1943 will never be forgotten.
It was on May 13, 2012 that we gathered at this spectacularly beautiful site to build and consecrate this memorial. A week of poignant yet very happy memories that will stay with me forever.
“Wir sind alle Freunde jetzt und immerdar.”
Roland and Ingrid Gotz
Lorenz and Alvira Steigner
Uwe and Martina Benkel
and all the good people of Schwanheim and Hauenstein, Germany.
Some pretty cool things have happened to me since getting into social media.
Communicating and engaging with people of all ages and backgrounds from all around the world to express and compare opinions, share news, interests, experiences and emotions – that’s social media.
And friends too – the opportunity to make friends – some real friends.
The coolest thing to happen for me so far though, would have to be this.
Some of you may know that I have quite an interest in my father’s war history. Recently, my sister and I travelled to Germany and spent time in Schwanheim, a small forest village where dad’s plane crashed and many of his crewmates died.
One of my twitter followers, Vaughn Davis, himself a former military pilot and very capable model maker, read about this and decided to do something. Something nice. I think Vaughn does nice things for a lot of people – I think that’s just the kind of guy he is.
In fact, enough with the words. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves…
Right down to the markings, a scale model replica of dad’s plane.
One day, when I’m asked, “What one article would I save if my house was on fire?” – here’s the answer.
And thank you very much Vaughn. It’s magic, mate.
The RAF’s largest bomber aircraft of World War Two. At a length of 87 feet, 3 inches, she was a full 18 feet longer than the Lancaster and was the first of the RAF’s trio of four engined heavy bombers.
There are no surviving examples of this aircraft in the world today.
“Then outward bound they set, these Vikings of a new born age
To write fresh deeds of valour, with crystal pen on history’s deathless page.
In silver galleons they set out, Strange ships and wondrous men were these who plumbed the unknown starlit depths of God’s celestial seas.
True sons! Who’s ancestors in bygone days vanquished the Spaniards and his seaborne might
Young England’s sky born fleet set sail
‘Armada of a cloudless night’.
The winking stars in wonder watch as thro’ cloud and moonlit haze each silver ship sails gracefully by, past phantom caps and starfilled bays
The captain and the crew of each imbued with but one single thought.
Their England ne’er shall feel those chains, which alien hands have wrought
Tho’ well knowing as their gallant ships, the tempest fury brave
The harbour which perchance they’ll find lies yond silent grave
The Navy of the sky sails on! Their decks awash with cloud
Swift galleons of Celestial Seas of whom we’re justly proud.
Stern guardians of our Empire’s heart patrolling high above
how proudly do they sail – these ships out o’er the azure blue
well knowing that though many sail, those who return are few
We need no day, we earth-bound folk, no hour set aside in which to turn our thoughts to then and those of them who died!
No cenotaph need we erect to assist us to recall how many of those silver ships with gallant crews did fall!
Their memory shall be evergreen, bourne on the evening breeze
which murmurs softly o’er the world
Strange ships and wondrous men were these.”
– written by Sgt. A C Easton (SAF) as a tribute to those aircrew who didn’t make it.
Reproduced from my father’s POW diary.