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Apr. 18th, 2007 06:02 pmWe went to the Decommissioning Service for the Coastal Forces Veterans' Association at a local naval establishment today - the national association is being stood down, though the regional branches are to continue. Of course it was an emotional occasion for a lot of the veterans present; before and after the religious service we walked around talking to many of them. It was a glorious sunny day, perfect for the event as most of the time we were outdoors under marquees. At the end of the service, when the association's flag was put away in its holder for the last time a couple of the veterans' wives shed a tear.
We went indoors for a lunch of boeuf bourgignon and rice, then we had to negotiate our way through the fully occupied canteen to get to outside, where we'd be able to sit down on one of the walls to eat. As we passed through the canteen, my mother kept stopping to talk to people - while I struggled to keep a hold on a plate of boeuf bourgignon, a bread roll, and a glass of wine. I got safely to the wall without dropping anything, but every time my mother stopped to talk en route, I wished I had four hands.
We went around the place talking to more veterans, then went on board a genuine WW2 coastal forces motor torpedo boat (somewhat refurbished now, of course) that had been brought down from Norfolk for the day and had been stationed at Gosport during the war. Before boarding the boat we looked on it from the railings, where a veteran came up to us and told the story of how one night he and his shipmates had been patrolling the Channel and Stuka bombers came to buzz overhead - they all stood round the gun, shouting 'Come on, Stukas' and opening fire on them. The boat was an impressive sight, very well restored, with the original aluminium roof of the cabin still in place. We met the volunteers who staff the boat, and they told us how during the war the back third of the boat's body would have been full of petrol, so much was needed to fuel the craft. With all that petrol, and the boat made almost entirely of wood, the craft was effectively a floating bomb.
When we got off it was already 1.40, ten minutes after Pete had said he'd be there to pick us up, but my mother had no desire to leave. First she wanted to go on board a currently serving boat. To get on board, we had to step from the top of a metal staircase, over a gap of a few inches, onto one of the steps of the rubber ladder hanging down the ship's side, and from there onto deck. There were posts to hold onto, and a sailor on deck to lend a hand to anyone needing it - one veteran told my mother that if she'd come to visit his ship when he was a young rating, he'd happily have lifted her on board! He then asked her "What are you doing tonight..." On the boat we met the Captain and a couple of student sailors. They said they still operate mostly in the English Channel; I asked whether they go as far up as the Netherlands, and a student said yes, they'd been off Den Helder last Friday.
From there, my mother continued to walk around talking to as many veterans as possible. I was a little concerned about keeping Pete waiting, and was feeling a little tired with the heat, but it was 2.30 before she finally had enough. I mean no disrespect to these men and women who fought for a free world; I was genuinely moved to shake hands with them all, hoping that little gesture went some way to showing them the gratitude that my generation owe them. One hero, named Stan, deserves a mention. His motor torpedo boat was sunk, and he and his crewmates were pulled out of the Channel by Germans and interned in POW camps. As the Russians advanced through Germany in 1945, the Germans tried to march the prisoners deeper inward; Stan and several of his mates evaded them by hiding under the floorboards. Stan also wore a Norway/Shetland medal among his campaign medals. I take my hat off to him.
The girls' game tonight has been called off; Winchester say they can't raise a team. Lisa says she doesn't know whether we'll get the 3 points or have to play at a later date :( Still, I have a heap of e-mails to catch up on...
We went indoors for a lunch of boeuf bourgignon and rice, then we had to negotiate our way through the fully occupied canteen to get to outside, where we'd be able to sit down on one of the walls to eat. As we passed through the canteen, my mother kept stopping to talk to people - while I struggled to keep a hold on a plate of boeuf bourgignon, a bread roll, and a glass of wine. I got safely to the wall without dropping anything, but every time my mother stopped to talk en route, I wished I had four hands.
We went around the place talking to more veterans, then went on board a genuine WW2 coastal forces motor torpedo boat (somewhat refurbished now, of course) that had been brought down from Norfolk for the day and had been stationed at Gosport during the war. Before boarding the boat we looked on it from the railings, where a veteran came up to us and told the story of how one night he and his shipmates had been patrolling the Channel and Stuka bombers came to buzz overhead - they all stood round the gun, shouting 'Come on, Stukas' and opening fire on them. The boat was an impressive sight, very well restored, with the original aluminium roof of the cabin still in place. We met the volunteers who staff the boat, and they told us how during the war the back third of the boat's body would have been full of petrol, so much was needed to fuel the craft. With all that petrol, and the boat made almost entirely of wood, the craft was effectively a floating bomb.
When we got off it was already 1.40, ten minutes after Pete had said he'd be there to pick us up, but my mother had no desire to leave. First she wanted to go on board a currently serving boat. To get on board, we had to step from the top of a metal staircase, over a gap of a few inches, onto one of the steps of the rubber ladder hanging down the ship's side, and from there onto deck. There were posts to hold onto, and a sailor on deck to lend a hand to anyone needing it - one veteran told my mother that if she'd come to visit his ship when he was a young rating, he'd happily have lifted her on board! He then asked her "What are you doing tonight..." On the boat we met the Captain and a couple of student sailors. They said they still operate mostly in the English Channel; I asked whether they go as far up as the Netherlands, and a student said yes, they'd been off Den Helder last Friday.
From there, my mother continued to walk around talking to as many veterans as possible. I was a little concerned about keeping Pete waiting, and was feeling a little tired with the heat, but it was 2.30 before she finally had enough. I mean no disrespect to these men and women who fought for a free world; I was genuinely moved to shake hands with them all, hoping that little gesture went some way to showing them the gratitude that my generation owe them. One hero, named Stan, deserves a mention. His motor torpedo boat was sunk, and he and his crewmates were pulled out of the Channel by Germans and interned in POW camps. As the Russians advanced through Germany in 1945, the Germans tried to march the prisoners deeper inward; Stan and several of his mates evaded them by hiding under the floorboards. Stan also wore a Norway/Shetland medal among his campaign medals. I take my hat off to him.
The girls' game tonight has been called off; Winchester say they can't raise a team. Lisa says she doesn't know whether we'll get the 3 points or have to play at a later date :( Still, I have a heap of e-mails to catch up on...
