Into The Dusk Light

On ANZAC Day 2010 I dedicated a post to my Uncle Freddie (pictured bottom row, centre), who while commanding a Lancaster bombing mission over Germany for the RAF, was killed at the age of 24 along with his crew of 6 on March 7th 1945. Freddie from Adelaide, was a pilot with the Royal Australian Air Force, but had been seconded to command bombers for the Royal Air Force. You can read the post here .

Late last year the following email arrived in The Laurel Hedge Inbox:

Hi Millie

I read your blog post about your uncle. My grandfather was the Flight Engineer on Lancaster ME474, so would have been sitting next to your uncle on the plane. I did read that ME474 had been newly received two weeks prior to their last mission, being the maiden flight of the plane & that it had crashed into the sea off Holland, that's all we know. I do have some photos & I may have some letters somewhere which may be of interest & would be most grateful for any further information you may have. My Grandad is pictured in the back row far right.

Kind regards

Paul

You can imagine how I felt - the 68 years since that terrible night dissolved in a heartbeat. In my mind I saw the crew walking across the tarmac at Skellingthorpe, climbing into that big, noisy Lancaster & the plane taking off, heading across the English channel into the fading dusk light. I saw Paul's Grandad & my Uncle Freddie seated in the cockpit - doing the flight checks, talking about the weather conditions & maybe the task ahead. The British accents of the 6 crewmen occasionally interrupted by the flat laconic tone of the lone Aussie. The war in Europe was drawing to an end, great devastation had been delivered to both sides by similar bombing raids.  I sat for a long while at the computer, re-reading Paul's email in quiet reflection of the great loss all the families of ME474's crew have endured through the years.  

Any doubts as to why I blog were dispelled. Only 2 bodies of the lost crew were ever recovered after the aircraft ditched into the sea, Freddie's & Paul's Grandad Bill, the irony of that has not escaped me. I guess Paul was doing some research into ME474, a search engine picked up those words from my post & the link to The Hedge appeared. I shared the email with my cousin & he has now joined me in our communications with Paul.   

So, many years later, 2 families on opposite sides of the world are reunited, in remembrance of the sad bond that links us forever. 

ON THIS MOST SACRED OF DAYS

LEST WE FORGET

Lest We Forget

Australian Army Nursing Service

Pledge of Service
I pledge myself loyally to serve my King and Country and to maintain the honour and efficiency of the Australian Army Nursing Service.

I will do all in my power to alleviate the suffering of the sick and wounded, sparing no effort to bring them comfort of body and peace of mind.

I will work in unity and comradeship with my fellow nurses.

I will be ready to give assistance to those in need of my help, and will abstain from any action which may bring sorrow and suffering to others.

At all times I will endeavour to uphold the highest traditions of Womanhood and of the Profession of which I am Part.

On the hospital ships off Gallipoli, Australian nurses came face to face for the first time with the reality of the wounded. It made some of them confront the limitations of their nursing skills and the notion of the glory of war. Working on the hospital ship Sicilia Sister Lydia King confided to her diary:

'I shall never forget the awful feeling of hopelessness on night duty. It was dreadful. I had two wards downstairs, each over 100 patients and then I had small wards upstairs — altogether about 250 patients to look after, and one orderly and one Indian sweeper. Shall not describe their wounds, they were too awful. One loses sight of all the honour and the glory in the work we are doing.'

LEST WE FORGET

Known Unto God

Image Temple

"Should anything happen, Mummie, don't grieve for me because it is His will and That is always best. To the best of my knowledge I am pretty well prepared to go and face my God, but of course I have no particular wish to go yet. Somehow or other I feel firmly convinced I will survive and so I do not worry at all.
"Should this be my last letter, dearest, remember I will always be waiting and watching for you and praying also, darling Mother, for your spiritual welfare ... Oh, Mum! How I wish I could have one farewell kiss before going into battle."

Words from a letter written by Lt. Leo Corrigan to his mother in Sydney as he left for Gallipoli. He was killed 2 years later in action at the Battle of Passchendaele in Belgium on September 20,1917 aged 22. The following day, he & five other Australian boys were hastily buried in an unmarked roadside grave, their bodies were wrapped in blankets and tied with signal wire, their hands clasped in prayer. Back in Sydney his father received his war service medals & his mother his prayer book & rosary beads. As a devout Catholic, his mother Sarah had hoped Leo would become a priest after the War. In 1919, when his grieving mother wrote to authorities to request details of her son's final resting place, the reply was 'Place of Burial: Not Known'. Living to her 90's, she always longed for a photo of her son's grave & never recovered from her loss. 91 years on, Leo's grave still remains unknown.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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.

LEST WE FORGET