Anzac Day; Lest we forget. Fathers, Uncles etc
I don't want to be the best pilot in the world - Just the oldest
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My dad - a Vietnam vet sadly passed away last year. Only now I think of all the times when as a kid I was so proud of him being in the army. He obviously didn't like it all that much becuase he spent a lot of time telling me I shouldn't have signed up myself. But I certainly had no regrets after nearly 21 yrs service.
Mrs IJ (CFI)'s uncle was Group Captain Hugh Verity who flew Lysanders for the SOS during WWII. We were honoured to have him at our wedding in UK in 97 where he gave us an autographed copy of his book "We Landed by Moonlight". Now that is an exciting read.
Mrs IJ (CFI)'s uncle was Group Captain Hugh Verity who flew Lysanders for the SOS during WWII. We were honoured to have him at our wedding in UK in 97 where he gave us an autographed copy of his book "We Landed by Moonlight". Now that is an exciting read.
Don Quixote Impersonator
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IJ
Lysanders their crew and the SOS! now there are some serious legends that very few people actually know much about.
The other side used an equally adept aircraft the Fieseler Storch, I understand we captured a bunch, the US Army operated them and one was used by Monty himself.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fieseler_Fi_156
And you'll probably have to kill me if I tell everybody that our modern day version of that was the training and I have no doubt live insertions and extractions by the Turbine Porter and our "special" lads.
Lysanders their crew and the SOS! now there are some serious legends that very few people actually know much about.
The other side used an equally adept aircraft the Fieseler Storch, I understand we captured a bunch, the US Army operated them and one was used by Monty himself.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fieseler_Fi_156
And you'll probably have to kill me if I tell everybody that our modern day version of that was the training and I have no doubt live insertions and extractions by the Turbine Porter and our "special" lads.
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Brian Abraham
Hi Brian. There were many beaufighter models. i have a copy of the crash log which states "On the TFX in the event of an ngine failure after takeoff, the safety speed at full load (including a torpedo) was a horrendous 170 knots."
The TFX had Hercules radial engines. They built 1000 TFX's.
Those boys did not have nice, easily managed equipment.
The TFX had Hercules radial engines. They built 1000 TFX's.
Those boys did not have nice, easily managed equipment.
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G'day Bushy, I had the Merlin version in the bookcase and just finished downloading the TFX manual 5 minutes ago which says "If engine failure occurs on take off with torpedo loads, 160 mph and full power should be maintained until the torpedo has been jettisoned. (If a torpedo is carried, set master and selector switches for release during pre take off check; the torpedo can then be jettisoned quickly in emergency during, or shortly after, take off.)"
I did love an item which says "Although stable in level in level flight, cloud or night flying is not advisable as handling becomes difficult below 180 mph IAS."
And it was a night fighter. No tail wheel locking on some either. Got to give it to the boys. Ever heard of gun deviation as applied to a mag compass - "Firing the 20 mm guns causes disturbances of the P4 compass deviation. The deviation may be restored to the values on the compass card by firing a one second burst while flying level on compass north."
I did love an item which says "Although stable in level in level flight, cloud or night flying is not advisable as handling becomes difficult below 180 mph IAS."
And it was a night fighter. No tail wheel locking on some either. Got to give it to the boys. Ever heard of gun deviation as applied to a mag compass - "Firing the 20 mm guns causes disturbances of the P4 compass deviation. The deviation may be restored to the values on the compass card by firing a one second burst while flying level on compass north."
Grandpa Aerotart
No wonder vastly more kids, and that's really what they were, died in accidents than by enemy action.
I have flown a couple of modern jet fighter simulators...the real all singing and dancing sims they train real fighter pilots on...and from a pure flying point of view they are dead set EASY to fly...whether it be taking off, landing or burning around rolling and looping...combat would clearly be a different ball game all together.
I have flown a couple of modern jet fighter simulators...the real all singing and dancing sims they train real fighter pilots on...and from a pure flying point of view they are dead set EASY to fly...whether it be taking off, landing or burning around rolling and looping...combat would clearly be a different ball game all together.
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My Mum's brothers, Bobby and Jim. Bobby was killed in on the way to Darwin, where he would've met up with his little brother, Jim. Jim was never the same after hearing of the loss of his big brother and after being caught up in the air raids and died a broken man after the war.
Thank you for what you did, boys. It has not been forgotten.
A waste of good men.
Thank you for what you did, boys. It has not been forgotten.
A waste of good men.
My grandfather didn't quite make in his 84th ANZAC Day and passed yesterday.
ex-AIF New Guinea & SW Pacific. Stole a Melbourne tram on leave and missed the Borneo campaign.
RIP Pop
ex-AIF New Guinea & SW Pacific. Stole a Melbourne tram on leave and missed the Borneo campaign.
RIP Pop
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I thought I'd share this...
A SOLDIER DIED TODAY.
He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the R.S.L. Club,
Telling stories of the past.
Of a War that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his mates;
They were heroes every one.
And 'tho sometimes to his neighbours
His tales became a joke,
All his mates listened quietly
For they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer,
For a Soldier Died Today.
He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived a very ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing,
'tho a Soldier Died Today.
When Politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in State,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories,
From the time that they were young.
But the passing of a Soldier
Goes unnoticed and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land.
Some jerk who breaks his promise,
And cons his fellow man ?
Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes of to serve his Country
And offers up his life ?
The Politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.
While the ordinary Soldier,
Who offers up his all,
Is paid off with a medal,
And perhaps a pension small.
It's so easy to forget them,
For it is so many times,
That our Bobs and Jims
Went to battle, but we still pine.
It was not the Politicians,
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us our freedom
That our Country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever waffling stand.?
Or would you want a Soldier
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Soldier,
Who would fight until the end ?
He was just a common Soldier,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict,
We find the Soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles,
That the Politicians start.
If we cannot do him honour
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say,
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING, A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."
"A Soldier Died Today" by A Lawrence Vaincourt. It was eloquently read
by Grace McDonell of Year 10 at the Anzac Day Dawn Service held at the
cenotaph in Halliday Park. Grace had been invited by the Mitcham R.S.L
to participate, and her delivery respected the sombre mood of the
occasion
He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the R.S.L. Club,
Telling stories of the past.
Of a War that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his mates;
They were heroes every one.
And 'tho sometimes to his neighbours
His tales became a joke,
All his mates listened quietly
For they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For ol' Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer,
For a Soldier Died Today.
He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived a very ordinary,
Very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family,
Going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing,
'tho a Soldier Died Today.
When Politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in State,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell of their life stories,
From the time that they were young.
But the passing of a Soldier
Goes unnoticed and unsung.
Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land.
Some jerk who breaks his promise,
And cons his fellow man ?
Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes of to serve his Country
And offers up his life ?
The Politician's stipend
And the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate,
To the service that he gives.
While the ordinary Soldier,
Who offers up his all,
Is paid off with a medal,
And perhaps a pension small.
It's so easy to forget them,
For it is so many times,
That our Bobs and Jims
Went to battle, but we still pine.
It was not the Politicians,
With their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us our freedom
That our Country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger,
With your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out,
With his ever waffling stand.?
Or would you want a Soldier
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common Soldier,
Who would fight until the end ?
He was just a common Soldier,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict,
We find the Soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles,
That the Politicians start.
If we cannot do him honour
While he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage
At the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline
In the paper that might say,
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING, A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."
"A Soldier Died Today" by A Lawrence Vaincourt. It was eloquently read
by Grace McDonell of Year 10 at the Anzac Day Dawn Service held at the
cenotaph in Halliday Park. Grace had been invited by the Mitcham R.S.L
to participate, and her delivery respected the sombre mood of the
occasion
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Here is the poem I posted last year after visiting Gallipoli for the first time on ANZAC Day. It is an original draft, but has undergone a couple of revisions since then. Standing on Chunuk Bair puts you "in the zone" and it is putting pen to paper and the words just fall out. I'll make two comments about it. Firstly, I am harsh on Churchill. The history books don't really say so, but Churchill carried Gallipoli with him until the day he died, so it is unfair to imply otherwise which is what I have done. But history is a harsh mistress, and in this case, so it should be. The British failed to learn the expensive lessons of the Crimean War, using similar tactics right throughout the entire Great War, both with and without horses. They didn't learn, and we paid for it. That leads me to my second comment. It wasn't just ANZAC and Turk that suffered terribly, but the British, French, and Indian armies suffered immeasurably, too. Notwithstanding the Indians, it was a British and French war, it was never ours, and that is why they don’t get a mention. Add to that the fact that while they lost more men in terms of sheer numbers, the disproportionate loss to Australia and especially New Zealand crippled whole communities in our countries.
Inasmuch as it could be possible, I hope you enjoy it.
Chunuk Bair
Light show cast surreal glow,
Sea front still, as warm tears flow,
Unchecked; I leave them be,
On Gallipoli I discover me.
Tears anoint the sacred ground,
Self-conscious now I look around,
Through misty eyes and haze I see,
That others cry, not just me.
From ANZAC Cove I start to walk,
Possessed of mind, bereft of talk,
Towards a hill of infamy
Of untold pain, of loss, I see.
But pause a moment at Lone Pine,
The Diggers there lie for all time,
Lost wave by wave; it was insane,
For what; some lame-brained plan, our bane.
Objective now hoves into sight,
With visions of that awful night,
Of boys, the best of ANZAC might,
With careless thought, thrown into fight.
Now atop the blood soaked fill,
Of Chunuk Bair; that bastard hill,
‘Twas briefly won, but at what cost?
I’ll tell you: a generation of Wellingtons lost.
In one mass grave the hundreds lie,
On August night they came to die,
No dreams to see the world fulfilled,
But oblivion; and families willed.
Was not just ANZAC suffered great,
For Turkish youth befell same fate,
Land and country, vow to protect,
And that they did, with no regret.
This land we came to habitate,
Was never ours to infiltrate,
Let order from afar decide,
The fate of all those that died.
First Sea Lord, with blank face,
Resigns in shame and stark disgrace
Then absolved of blame he quickens pace
To another war, and a greater race
For him no pain, no empty shell,
No memories of fiery hell,
Churchillian values? time will tell,
Whether all this was actually worth it.
The words of Ataturk ring true,
They comfort me, they should do you,
Boundless compassion, holding firm,
(I would have liked to have known him.)
Turk and ANZAC, hand in hand,
Together now, warm in this land,
For us no fear, no more regret,
Firm friends now, lest we forget.
Light show cast surreal glow,
Sea front still, as warm tears flow,
Unchecked; I leave them be,
On Chunuk Bair, I discover me.
Inasmuch as it could be possible, I hope you enjoy it.
Chunuk Bair
Light show cast surreal glow,
Sea front still, as warm tears flow,
Unchecked; I leave them be,
On Gallipoli I discover me.
Tears anoint the sacred ground,
Self-conscious now I look around,
Through misty eyes and haze I see,
That others cry, not just me.
From ANZAC Cove I start to walk,
Possessed of mind, bereft of talk,
Towards a hill of infamy
Of untold pain, of loss, I see.
But pause a moment at Lone Pine,
The Diggers there lie for all time,
Lost wave by wave; it was insane,
For what; some lame-brained plan, our bane.
Objective now hoves into sight,
With visions of that awful night,
Of boys, the best of ANZAC might,
With careless thought, thrown into fight.
Now atop the blood soaked fill,
Of Chunuk Bair; that bastard hill,
‘Twas briefly won, but at what cost?
I’ll tell you: a generation of Wellingtons lost.
In one mass grave the hundreds lie,
On August night they came to die,
No dreams to see the world fulfilled,
But oblivion; and families willed.
Was not just ANZAC suffered great,
For Turkish youth befell same fate,
Land and country, vow to protect,
And that they did, with no regret.
This land we came to habitate,
Was never ours to infiltrate,
Let order from afar decide,
The fate of all those that died.
First Sea Lord, with blank face,
Resigns in shame and stark disgrace
Then absolved of blame he quickens pace
To another war, and a greater race
For him no pain, no empty shell,
No memories of fiery hell,
Churchillian values? time will tell,
Whether all this was actually worth it.
The words of Ataturk ring true,
They comfort me, they should do you,
Boundless compassion, holding firm,
(I would have liked to have known him.)
Turk and ANZAC, hand in hand,
Together now, warm in this land,
For us no fear, no more regret,
Firm friends now, lest we forget.
Light show cast surreal glow,
Sea front still, as warm tears flow,
Unchecked; I leave them be,
On Chunuk Bair, I discover me.
Gary Parata (New Zealand)
Gallipoli, April 25, 2006
