The Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red

Tower Poppy buyers - when yours arrives, it seems that you will receive the petals only with no stem or centerpiece. These can easily be added and adapted to suit ones own needs. There are already people saying this is 'ridiculous' or 'bad drills'. Am I so terribly out of step with the rest of the world that I don't see it as an issue and that we take should take comfort in the fact that a lot of money has been raised for charity and that, for a short time, people were involved in a unique event either by actively installing or uninstalling, or donating.

I Think Of That Grey Wall

I don’t care about religion

The Sin Bosun's just white noise

He drones a while, and then a pause

And soon we hear the boom.

Pipe the Still.

And I start to think….

I look around those there

There are one or two from then

They slowly age, and their numbers thin

And we will thin, will age like them

I think of him down South

With the Guards, the heat, the noise

His wounds were deep, no marks were seen

30 years and blackness took him

I think of the sandbox

The screen, Op Minimise

A half-built airport that would quieten

For a Lockheed and its passenger

I think of podviniki

Of their treacherous end

Some unnamed thugs, a syringe on screen

A widow’s fading cry

I think of that grey wall

I think of that long grey wall

So many written there, husbands, brothers, sons

Thousands more on walls elsewhere

I think of…..

Carry on.

And so that's it

Off we troop inside

And line up for our glass

All smiles and cheer for one more year

And memories.

I Think Of That Grey Wall

I don’t care for religion

The padre is just white noise

He drones a while, and then a pause

And soon we hear the boom.

Pipe the Still.

And I start to think….

I look around those there

There are one or two from then

They slowly age, and their numbers thin

And we will thin, will age like them

I think of him down South

With the Guards in the heat and noise

His wounds were deep, unmarking, not seen

30 years on, blackness took him

I think of the sandbox

Of the screen and Op Minimise

A half-built airport becoming still,

Of a Lockheed and it’s only passenger

I think of podviniki

Of their treacherous end

Some thugs, a nurse a syringe on screen

And a widow’s fading cry

I think of that grey wall

I think of that long grey wall

So many written there, husbands, brothers, sons

Thousands more on walls elsewhere

I think of…..

Carry on.

And so thats it

Off we troop inside

All line up for our glass

And all smiles and cheer for one more year

And memories.

A Letter From America*

An American friend proposed the following:

I think that this Britain First movement in the UK is the tip of the ice berg in Western Europe. Just to crystal ball gaze. I believe that the combination of leftist government and the explosion of Mideast immigrants could spark a rather nasty European First neo nationalist movement. Like you, I am a Submarine Docent. I have talked to many young European visitors and many of them talk just like American Tea Partyers, with a continental twist. What do you think!"

 In response, I wrote:

I'm not sure the leaning of the government is particularly relevant. The nasty people have been around for a long time and BF is just a new manifestation having evolved through the Black shirts, the National Front, and the British National Party. Similarly. the US has it's neo-Nazis, the KKK, white supremacists and others although given the right conditions anything can happen

 It's all the more terrifying when one is sat in the middle seeing the extremes of both sides; knowing that one side is causing alienation of a lot of good people by its horrific actions and words, and for those actions and words to be portrayed as representative. The other extreme are hoodwinking a lot of good people with lies, by being disingenuous and by capitalising on the the deeds of the other extreme. And we are almost powerless to do anything about that other than to try and show the fallaciousness of both sides words.

But then,

"He that complies against his will is of his own opinion still."<sup>1


1</sup> http://www.bartleby.com/100/168.html

*Please, read his biography and listen to some of Alistair Cooke's broadcasts that spanned the decades.

Letter From America on the BBC iPlayer

Letter from America on Wikipedia

Robin Williams

It's astonishing to see the response to Robin Williams' death; much greater than that of anybody else's I've seen on social media. And yet there will be hardly anyone I know who will have met him. It just goes to show the huge effect that humour can have on us as individuals. Not only was he a really fun but he could mask a political comment with his humour and make it cut like a knife. I'm grateful for the huge raft of material he's left for us.

Remembrance Without Religion

Up until last year, there was a rather simple Remembrance Parade held at the Royal Navy Submarine Museum in November. People would gather, old submariners would fall in, Laurence Binyon's words would be spoken the Still would be piped, silence observed, wreaths laid and then a Tot taken, Last year a vicar came in and led the service. For me the simplicity and elegance disappeared with the imposition of the religious ritual and the, for me, meaningless biblical words and prayers and this became just another remembrance service.

I suspect many will be used to the religious service  and be happy to continue with the familiar format. I wonder if there are others out there, though, who would appreciate a secular gathering, one where people might have their own thoughts and be able to remember those 5300 and others without religious overtones.

If there are, please get in touch.

Only A Person Who Risks Is Free

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach for another is to risk involvement.
To expose your ideas, your dreams,
before a crowd is to risk their loss.
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To live is to risk dying.
To believe is to risk despair.
To try is to risk failure.
But risks must be taken, because the
greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The people who risk nothing, do nothing,
have nothing, are nothing.
They may avoid suffering and sorrow,
but they cannot learn, feel, change,
grow, love, live.
Chained by their attitudes they are slaves;
they have forfeited their freedom.
Only a person who risks is free.

- Unknown

I Never Made The Falklands

or Some Not so Exciting Stories From 32 Years Ago

Paul Atkinson (Medical Assistant)

I sailed on MV Astronomer and got into the exclusion zone a day after the ceasefire!! Spent the next 4 months floating around the Falklands and spent my 21st birthday throwing up (due to seasickness) somewhere off South Georgia.

Ken Dunn and I fitted out a sick bay on Atlantic conveyor and when it came to sail they only wanted one medic. Me n ken tossed a coin and he won the toss and sailed on her!!

Dave Tipple (Leading Seaman)

As was I on Revenge in refit with you, but we did get to paint a Hull trawler that had been TUFT*. Everybody was ready to go. When SP Anderson told Elvis Costello that he could not go, he was going to stow away on the trawler.

Andy Mullins (Medical Assistant)

We had a Clear Lower Deck for single men, they wanted volunteers to go down south, I volunteered and bugger all came of it, They "said" they wanted 5 fairly senior MA's to stay and train RNR MA's..........I ended up in Mercury Sickbay!

Dathan 'Spike' Hughes (Weapons Electrical Mechanic)

I joined the Invincible with a survivor of HMS Sheffield, at Ascension Islands by helo, on the way back. I stood procedure Alpha (Gosport side of course) into Pompey. Does that make it into the 'I never made it' dit book? I went there 10 years later with Derek Golding. Not sure which was the most dangerous time...

Pete Chilcott (Leading Medical Assistant)

32 years ago, just after South Georgia and the Falklands had been taken, it was clear that ships were coming out of reserve or TUFT* and that there would be need for medics. Paul Stock and I were stood by HMS REVENGE in refit. Feeling that this is what we had trained for, we would volunteer to go South and play our part. We walked over to the Jimmy and explained our wishes. 'The deterrent comes first' was his response. Back we walked and that was the end of our Falklands.

*Taken Up From Trade

Veteran? Veteran of what?

I asked some of my British colleagues whether or not others were comfortable with the term 'Veteran' or being referred to as one. I'm not. This is a comment I got in reply from a colleague ex British Army medic, and all round good guy (where's my bloody book?!).
________________________________________

It's because when you were growing up all that while ago, a veteran was a crusty who had served near 5-years through Normandy to Japan and back to Berlin while slaughtering the enemy on a daily basis from beneath their half-deployed parachute canopy throwing the daggers of shot-in-the-air comrades; or had shot and killed their first of many at a range of 3 feet in an enemy ambush in densest Borneo; or had faced off the bad guys in Suez in a lone tank with a track blown off by a 1.4lb'er and an issue of just 4 rounds; or swam through burning oil after a 100ft escape via a torpedo tube; or was on the Hood during its finest hour...etc.  

Perhaps you feel you do not measure to up to that childhood awe of the term, "Veteran"; the men who served to protect your freedom and jump the queue in Woolworths as grumpy old gits to whom we 'owed a debt' and an oz of tobacco, and who looked nothing like the glamorous actors in your favourite movies because they were REAL soldiers, sailors, and airmen.

Face it, you ARE that grumpy, crusty old git; you gave your time to Serve in some overly-hyped leaky, sweat-stained old 'boat'; you worked to improve the care of the wounded; you did your best to throw daggers; and you faced DMETA without loosing more than a handful - or two of marbles, and you sat watch while others slept just knowing you were there while peers dozed through life in a glaze of ignorant 'normality'. Top it all, you even volunteer to preserve the memory and memories of Veteran kin safe on Her Venerable Ladyship, The Alliance. YOU are a Veteran. Get over it. Wear it with dignity and wear it with pride. Just saying. God Bless You, and all who HAD to f'ing Suffer to Sail With You x

And another thing!

My particular brand of middle aged grumpiness comes from a couple of things. People, particularly some ex servicemen, who see things posted on the SuperInterwebhighway, and take them as gospel. The second comes from people who see an item on news, rarely more than a minute or two long, and react in a ranty, extra grumpy way without having all the information. Particularly if it reinforces their own prejudices. Research, people, research and not just the Daily Mail.

So yes, that's me being grumpy about grumpy people. Ironic really. Still, in half an hour, I shall say Zvadreite to poorly educated Bulgarians, they will smile as they say Zvadreite back, our faces will beam and all will be good with the world.

Be happy people

Another Sunday Morning

Sunday morning, lying in bed, a cup of tea, some grown up people talking on Broadcasting House, on BBC Radio 4 and that same programme closing with Richard Burton reading the opening words to Under Milk Wood. An hour long Sunday oasis.

And to go with that oasis......this -

Standing Room Only

Today for the first time in my life I, and quite a few others, had to stand during a funeral as all the available seating had been taken. Now, that's quite a testimony to the popularity and to the character of the person who had died. I had only met Linda once but had worked with her husband, Al, and wanted to show some support, whatever that means. He, too, is one of the 'good guys'. He spoke warmly of his wife, of how she treated others, and of how others helped her with her own issues. It's always tough listening to a man eulogising his wife when they are still only middle aged with a family. It was even tougher listening to her son talking before Al. He openly admitted he was a young man with flaws and who had made errors. But he was equally candid about how his mum had always provided support and encouragement and had not dismissed him when he strayed. She offered him advice on how to correct his faltering path and how best to continue with his life. I'm sure Linda was proud of her son in life and I hope he believes that pride will always be around him in later life.

I can't help thinking that just about every adult male in the world would like to think their own mum treated them the same way and in their imagination, they are still a child cuddling up to her. I can still remember that softness and that fresh, 'clean' aroma of my mum when I was in my 40s getting my last cuddles.