The Armstrong Whitworth A.W.38 Whitley
Was
a British twin-engine medium/heavy bomber
In
service with the RAF at the outbreak of WW2
By
1942 it was superseded by the larger bombers
Like
the four-engine heavy Avro Lancaster
They
still retained a role in the war effort
As
maritime reconnaissance with Coastal Command
A
glider-tug, trainer and as a transport aircraft
The Gloster Gladiator was a British
It is a
single-seat biplane fighter
Operated by
the Royal Air Force
And saw action in
almost all theatres
During the Second
World War
The Gloster Sea Gladiator was a British
It
is a single-seat biplane fighter
Operated
by the Fleet Air Arm
And
saw action in almost all theatres
During
the Second World War
The Bell P-39 Airacobra was the principal
American
Fighter when the USA entered combat
A
small number were operational with the RAF
They
soon reached obsolescence in Europe
And
the remaining stock were sold to the USSR
The Boulton Paul Defiant was a British
Two-seat
single-engine turret fighter
Which
served with the Royal Air Force
As
a day and night interceptor fighter
It
was nicknamed “Daffy” by pilots
By
mid-1942 it was replaced by faster
Better
performing night fighters, but
Continued
to be useful in gunnery training,
Target
towing, electronic countermeasures,
And air-sea
rescue until the end of the war
Died: 5 June
1963, Cork, Ireland
Belgian born
Adrian Carton de Wiart
Was from an
aristocratic family
But was educated
in England
And was an officer
in the British Army
He was a career soldier
who served
In the Second Boer
War, and India
During World War I
he fought
In the Somaliland
campaign
Battles of the
Somme, Passchendaele
Cambrai and the
Battle of Arras
Between 1918 and
1921
He was involved in
the wars
Between Poland and
the Soviets,
Ukrainians and Lithuanians
He retired from the Army in 1923
For the life of a
Polish Gentleman
But after 15
peaceful years
World War 2 loomed
large
And he fought with
the Poles
During the German
invasion
Before he was
recalled to Britain
And soon had a
significant role
In Britain’s
Norwegian campaign
Then a brief spell
in Northern Island
His next mission
was to Yugoslavia
He flew from Malta
after refuelling
But both engines
failed, and they crashed
Off the coast of
Libya and were captured
During his two
years of captivity
He made numerous
escape attempts
In the end he was
released by the Italians
Two years later to
act as an envoy
In prelude of an
Italian surrender
Then at Winston
Churchills behest
He was sent to
communist China
During the Second
Sino-Japanese War
As Churchills
personal representative
And stayed until
1947 when he retired
Despite being
offered a job
By the Chinese
leader Chiang Kai-shek
Carton de Wiart
suffered numerous
Injuries by enemy
shot and shell
During his long
military career
To his head, face,
stomach, groin,
Ankle, leg, hip
and arms
And survived two
plane crashes
He lost an eye and
part of his ear
In the Somaliland
campaign
And his left hand
at the Battle of Ypres
In recognition of
his distinguished service
His awards are as
numerous as his scars
He was Mentioned
in Despatches,
Received The
Victoria Cross,
Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire,
Companion of the Order of the Bath,
Companion of the Order of St Michael and St George
Distinguished Service Order
The Polish Virtuti Militari,
The Belgium Croix de guerre
And the French
Legion of Honour
And the Croix de
Guerre
The tank stopped abruptly
And we sat open mouthed
At what we beheld
Our brains could not assimilate
What our eyes were seeing
Great mounds of …. What?
It can’t be that.
All the horrors of war
We had witnessed, experienced
Since D-day
Did not prepare us
For what Belsen held in store
A place devoid of God
A place where even birdsong was banished
We dismounted and approached on foot
As each step brought us closer
Our worst fears were realised
We saw that the mounds were indeed bodies
Or something likened to bodies
Then I saw an androgynous figure
Stood at the fence
A dirty little bag of bones
Wrapped in dirty rags
Bony fingers clutching the wire
Like a birds feet gripping a trig
I reasoned it was a girl
As the rags might well have been a dress
“We are English” I said
“Don’t be afraid”
Her fleshless face was beyond gaunt,
Her shaved head little more than a skull
Her huge eyes were so black and deep
I could see into her soul
A weak smile played round her mouth
And tears welled up in her huge eyes
I would not have believed it possible
For her desiccated form
To have held enough moisture for tears
But they were there
And they ran down the grubby cheeks
Of the little bag of bones
And dripped onto her ragged dress
We ran to the gates
And forced them open
Then we stepped into the jaws of hell
More skeletal figure appeared
From amidst the piles of rotting corpses
Bemused and disbelieving
They hugged us, and thanked us
Some cried, some laughed
We gave them water
And fed them our rations
Not realising we were finishing
What the Germans had started
The food was too rich
For their weak emaciated bodies
What we didn’t realise
Was we were killing them with kindness
The girls name was Elise
She was the same age as me
But she died the next day
Her face with the huge tear filled eyes
Haunted my dreams
All of the days of my life
Penetrating my soul
And breaking my heart
My only consolation
Was that she at least knew kindness
Once more before she died
