Finally the heroes of Bomber Command are to get the memorial they so richly deserve.
We have owed the thousands of young men who fought the war in the air so bravely and selflessly this memorial since 1945, especially those who didn't come back.
Today is a proud day for us as a nation, the dwindling band of Bomber Command survivors, those who never came home and their families.
Showing posts with label War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label War. Show all posts
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Saturday, November 12, 2011
The Experiences of an Englishman in Rocket-Hit Israel
A friend of mine is now living in Israel and kindly agreed to write the following guest blog:
There’s nothing to prepare you for the myriad of emotions that flush through your mind and body when a rocket alert siren sounds. Then there are the thoughts and feelings that grab hold when you hear ground shaking explosions and the sound of police cars and ambulances racing through the city streets soon afterwards. One moment you are going about your daily routine, which might include being in a deep sleep and the next, you are rushing like a startled rabbit towards your designated shelter.
I’ve been living in the southern Israeli city of Ashdod for nearly a year after meeting and falling in love with a beautiful and charming Israeli woman. In this time period there have been approximately a dozen rocket attacks on our city and hundreds more on cities, towns and villages in the surrounding region, including Ashkelon, Beersheba and the unfortunate Sderot. The rockets originate in the Gaza Strip, just over 20 miles away from Ashdod and are being fired by Islamic terrorists intent on killing as many Jews as possible and eventually taking Israel for their own Islamic state.
Let’s briefly study the anatomy of a rocket attack on a major Israeli city. When terrorists fire a rocket, a satellite system picks up the trajectory of the missile and instantly calculates where it is likely to fall. The system then activates a city-wide siren in the location where the deadly warhead is heading. The siren sounds and people rush to either a communal shelter, a safety room within their home or any other place which might offer protection from an explosion and related shrapnel. In Ashdod, we have 45 seconds to get to this safe place. In neighbouring Ashkelon, it is even less.
The rocket alert siren sounds for around 40 seconds. The sound is very similar to the World War 2 siren you hear in old black and white war films. It is omnipresent and comes at you from multiple directions. It’s also very loud and there’s no chance you’ll mistake it for a car alarm. Strangely enough, whilst the siren is sounding, you know you are relatively safe. The danger comes when it stops. That’s when the rockets fall. In nearly all cases that I have experienced, the explosions occurred within 15 seconds of silence descending on the city. It’s a haunting silence for you know everyone is doing the same as you and that is listening for the thuds of falling rockets. Two weeks ago we heard 4 explosions hit the city, one after the other and each louder than the next. Elsewhere on that day, an Israeli civilian who was a father of 4, was killed by shrapnel.
For years, before and during my time in Israel, I’ve heard people in the West referring to the rocket attacks as mere fireworks that do little damage other than a bit of smoke and cracks in the road. I knew this to be untrue, even prior to hearing and seeing the damage they do first-hand. Every day I pass a building still gutted from when a rocket scored a direct hit a few years ago. On Youtube you can see video clips of a 6-storey block of flats half demolished from just one rocket. The only reason why more people are not killed is because of the safety measures the government here has taken in the form of rocket shelters, drills, sirens, surveillance drones and frequent information on what to do in the event of an attack.
The rocket attacks are brutally hard on parents and their children. I’ve been with families when the siren sounded and witnessed the fear in the eyes of burly fathers who would not otherwise flinch from tackling a burglar in the middle of the night. They carry their little crying daughters in their arms and rush to their safety room, knowing full well that a direct hit on their home could mean death. I’ve also seen a mother vomit with fear after rushing her kids into a shelter. They have every reason to be terrified for their children’s safety. In 2004, a toddler and baby were killed when a rocket exploded inside their home in Sderot.
When you don’t have children, the sense of danger and fear is less but not altogether absent. Most rocket attacks have taken place during the night hours when we are asleep. The shock of being awoken by loud Banshee wailing and instinctively racing towards the front door (our shelter is next door) is quite a blow to one’s nerves, especially when you know there is a serious and genuine threat to life careering through the night skies towards you. Yet people here have adapted to these intrusions and within minutes you see people resuming their normal activities, even when there is every chance of another siren sounding any second.
I’m a proud Englishman with a great fondness for the State of Israel. This bond was formed prior to meeting my Israeli girlfriend and came about through sympathy and support for their existential cause. The Jewish people’s brave fight against the theo-political ideology of Islam which has Jew hatred written in their scriptures is one that all decent Europeans and Americans should back Israel in. For years I wished I could do something more for Israel instead of writing essays on why it deserves to exist in peace, from a safe and comfortable desk in England. Finally I got that chance. On most days I feel like any Englishman would, living in, or visiting, the Near East or Mediterranean and that is, a foreigner, which of course is natural. However, on those days when the skies rain rockets and the sirens sound, I feel, if all but briefly, very much an Israeli.
Guest post by Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/edward_bea
I've also included 2 links to relevant Youtube videos which will help readers gain insight into events here in Israel. Click on links below to view.
1. Block of flats half demolished (as mentioned in the post)
2. Rocket siren at night in Ashdod 2 weeks ago.
There’s nothing to prepare you for the myriad of emotions that flush through your mind and body when a rocket alert siren sounds. Then there are the thoughts and feelings that grab hold when you hear ground shaking explosions and the sound of police cars and ambulances racing through the city streets soon afterwards. One moment you are going about your daily routine, which might include being in a deep sleep and the next, you are rushing like a startled rabbit towards your designated shelter.
I’ve been living in the southern Israeli city of Ashdod for nearly a year after meeting and falling in love with a beautiful and charming Israeli woman. In this time period there have been approximately a dozen rocket attacks on our city and hundreds more on cities, towns and villages in the surrounding region, including Ashkelon, Beersheba and the unfortunate Sderot. The rockets originate in the Gaza Strip, just over 20 miles away from Ashdod and are being fired by Islamic terrorists intent on killing as many Jews as possible and eventually taking Israel for their own Islamic state.
Let’s briefly study the anatomy of a rocket attack on a major Israeli city. When terrorists fire a rocket, a satellite system picks up the trajectory of the missile and instantly calculates where it is likely to fall. The system then activates a city-wide siren in the location where the deadly warhead is heading. The siren sounds and people rush to either a communal shelter, a safety room within their home or any other place which might offer protection from an explosion and related shrapnel. In Ashdod, we have 45 seconds to get to this safe place. In neighbouring Ashkelon, it is even less.
The rocket alert siren sounds for around 40 seconds. The sound is very similar to the World War 2 siren you hear in old black and white war films. It is omnipresent and comes at you from multiple directions. It’s also very loud and there’s no chance you’ll mistake it for a car alarm. Strangely enough, whilst the siren is sounding, you know you are relatively safe. The danger comes when it stops. That’s when the rockets fall. In nearly all cases that I have experienced, the explosions occurred within 15 seconds of silence descending on the city. It’s a haunting silence for you know everyone is doing the same as you and that is listening for the thuds of falling rockets. Two weeks ago we heard 4 explosions hit the city, one after the other and each louder than the next. Elsewhere on that day, an Israeli civilian who was a father of 4, was killed by shrapnel.
For years, before and during my time in Israel, I’ve heard people in the West referring to the rocket attacks as mere fireworks that do little damage other than a bit of smoke and cracks in the road. I knew this to be untrue, even prior to hearing and seeing the damage they do first-hand. Every day I pass a building still gutted from when a rocket scored a direct hit a few years ago. On Youtube you can see video clips of a 6-storey block of flats half demolished from just one rocket. The only reason why more people are not killed is because of the safety measures the government here has taken in the form of rocket shelters, drills, sirens, surveillance drones and frequent information on what to do in the event of an attack.
The rocket attacks are brutally hard on parents and their children. I’ve been with families when the siren sounded and witnessed the fear in the eyes of burly fathers who would not otherwise flinch from tackling a burglar in the middle of the night. They carry their little crying daughters in their arms and rush to their safety room, knowing full well that a direct hit on their home could mean death. I’ve also seen a mother vomit with fear after rushing her kids into a shelter. They have every reason to be terrified for their children’s safety. In 2004, a toddler and baby were killed when a rocket exploded inside their home in Sderot.
When you don’t have children, the sense of danger and fear is less but not altogether absent. Most rocket attacks have taken place during the night hours when we are asleep. The shock of being awoken by loud Banshee wailing and instinctively racing towards the front door (our shelter is next door) is quite a blow to one’s nerves, especially when you know there is a serious and genuine threat to life careering through the night skies towards you. Yet people here have adapted to these intrusions and within minutes you see people resuming their normal activities, even when there is every chance of another siren sounding any second.
I’m a proud Englishman with a great fondness for the State of Israel. This bond was formed prior to meeting my Israeli girlfriend and came about through sympathy and support for their existential cause. The Jewish people’s brave fight against the theo-political ideology of Islam which has Jew hatred written in their scriptures is one that all decent Europeans and Americans should back Israel in. For years I wished I could do something more for Israel instead of writing essays on why it deserves to exist in peace, from a safe and comfortable desk in England. Finally I got that chance. On most days I feel like any Englishman would, living in, or visiting, the Near East or Mediterranean and that is, a foreigner, which of course is natural. However, on those days when the skies rain rockets and the sirens sound, I feel, if all but briefly, very much an Israeli.
Guest post by Edward Beaman-Hodgkiss
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/edward_bea
I've also included 2 links to relevant Youtube videos which will help readers gain insight into events here in Israel. Click on links below to view.
1. Block of flats half demolished (as mentioned in the post)
2. Rocket siren at night in Ashdod 2 weeks ago.
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
History, Idiots and the Blitz!

The problem with radio phone-ins is that it gives us a chance to hear what a bunch of half wits and idiots inhabit these islands. No wonder we are in the shit. Let's not forget, before I get attacked for unfair generalising, that this is the country that inflicted Blair and New Labour on itself repeatedly from 1997 onwards.
Today has been the commemoration of the London Blitz, when the Germans, yes GERMANS not just a handful of Nazis but thousands of Germans, dropped bombs on London then other cities. My parents lived through the bombing of Manchester and survived, obviously and thankfully.
But no, idiots with an evident lack of historical or moral awareness had to whine on about what happened to Dresden and Leipzig. Sad yes, but today was about London and our cities. Anybody who campares Churchill with Hitler, or our forces with the German forces, is obviously clueless about history, morality and warfare.
Stalin, being a totalitarian despot and protected from public opinion, could send millions of men to their deaths fighting in the traditional way. Our government, on the other hand, knew that 'excessive' British casualties would turn public opinion against the war, and lead to a loss for us and victory for Hitler. We focussed then, on mechanised or total war. We had to do that to stop Hitler.
My pet theory is that Dresden and Leipzig, so late in the war, may have hastened the inevitable end, but there was another reason. The British people had had enough of war and wanted an end. They, unlike Churchill, had no stomach for a fight against Uncle Joe Stalin and a regime that was just as murderous, if not more so, than Hitler's. So we left half of Europe under the Soviet rather than the Nazi jackboot. My theory is that we used Leipzig and Dresden not only to hasten the end of war, but to warn Stalin that we still had the firepower to stop him if he was considering marching any further West towards us.
So if today's moral and historical retards had been around then, we would probably all be speaking German or Russian now and asking what elections are and why we don't have any. There probably wouldn't be any gays, gypsies or Jews around either, let alone Asians, Africans and countless other groups in this country. Not only would there be none here, but millions more would have been slaughtered by Nazi or Soviet death squads.
So well done Bomber Harris and Bomber Command, not to mention those who lived through the Blitz in London and elsewhere. Heroes all.
Now don't get me started on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
John Demjanjuk and Nazi War Crimes
Many years ago, back in the '70s, I knew an elderly woman who had a deep and abiding hatred of Germany and Germans because of the Second World War, and no doubt from reading about the First World War. Not having lived through the blitz and growing up with a rehabilitated Germany playing a key role in European affairs I didn't share her loathing but part of me could understand it. What I found I couldn't accept was that she had a stack of newspapers from 1939 to 1945 and, if she ever felt her hatred for all things German waning, she would take them out and read them to stoke up her venom.
I had a similar feeling yesterday when I read about 89 year old John Demjanjuk's trial starting in Munich. Demjanjuk has already been tried in Israel for war crimes and found guilty then had the conviction overturned, he was found innocent but had spent several years wrongly imprisoned. This time non of the co-plaintiffs in the trial can positively identify Demjanjuk as a guard at Sobibor concentration camp. In his first trial he was wrongly accused, yet found guilty, of being a guard at Treblinka known as "Ivan the Terrible".
The Germans forced many Red Army prisoners to become guards in camps to free up Germans to fight on the front. How many of us could raise our hands if asked whether, in 1942 or 1943, we would have stood up to the Nazis and refused to become guards, especially knowing the treatment you would have received for doing so?
Don't look back with 21st century glasses on either. We can only imagine the de-humanising effects on people of two barbaric philosophies, fascism and communism, going in a bloody and often primitive head-to-head, a fight for survival, a fight to the death. In those circumstances men will do things that they would never dream of under normal, civilised circumstances.
The trial of John Demjanjuk, an 89 year old in seriously ill health smacks of the civilised world behaving in the same way as that old lady I knew in the 1970s. Neither dignified nor civilised.
I had a similar feeling yesterday when I read about 89 year old John Demjanjuk's trial starting in Munich. Demjanjuk has already been tried in Israel for war crimes and found guilty then had the conviction overturned, he was found innocent but had spent several years wrongly imprisoned. This time non of the co-plaintiffs in the trial can positively identify Demjanjuk as a guard at Sobibor concentration camp. In his first trial he was wrongly accused, yet found guilty, of being a guard at Treblinka known as "Ivan the Terrible".
The Germans forced many Red Army prisoners to become guards in camps to free up Germans to fight on the front. How many of us could raise our hands if asked whether, in 1942 or 1943, we would have stood up to the Nazis and refused to become guards, especially knowing the treatment you would have received for doing so?
Don't look back with 21st century glasses on either. We can only imagine the de-humanising effects on people of two barbaric philosophies, fascism and communism, going in a bloody and often primitive head-to-head, a fight for survival, a fight to the death. In those circumstances men will do things that they would never dream of under normal, civilised circumstances.
The trial of John Demjanjuk, an 89 year old in seriously ill health smacks of the civilised world behaving in the same way as that old lady I knew in the 1970s. Neither dignified nor civilised.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Talking Heads
What did you do in the war? Or what did you do to prevent the war? Oh well!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae, May 1915
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
Lest We Forget
For the Fallen
Laurence Binyon, September 1914
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 the 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.
Laurence Binyon, September 1914
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 the 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.
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