Hello all -
Happy Sunday!
A couple of weeks ago I mentioned my recent trip to London. I walked the tourist route around Whitehall, Parliament Square and down to Buckingham Palace. During that trip, I also popped into St Clement Danes Church at the far end of The Strand, known to many English children from the nursery rhyme…
Oranges and Lemons say the bells of St Clements……*
The Church has been designated as the Central Church of the RAF since its most recent restoration in 1958. It was actually reconsecrated in the October, within one month of former RAF Air Chief Marshal Sir Patrick Hine and his 111 Squadron colleagues completing the world record 22-plane loop at Farnborough (See Twenty-two Black Arrows).
St Clement Danes Church has a rich history that goes back much further. The “Danes” element in the name refers to the Danish settlers who built the original church on the site in the 9th century. One of the most notable figures buried there is the Danish King of England and son of Cnut, Harold I (Harefoot).
But it was another Harold that caught my attention that day.
Statue of "Bomber" Harris by N Chadwick, CC BY-SA 2.0
I walked into the church past the imposing figures of Sir Arthur “Bomber” Harris and Air Chief Marshal Lord Hugh Dowding. I turned towards a glass cabinet on the left. In the cabinet, I noticed a small, tarnished silver bracelet lying on the central shelf among a host of other RAF-related memorabilia.
It belonged to Harold Habgood, who served in the RAF during World War II. He was a member of an Avro Lancaster crew. His role was bomb-aimer, or bombardier, responsible for identifying targets and releasing bombs at critical moments.
On 29 July 1944, Habgood’s Lancaster was shot down over eastern France. Habgood and three crew members parachuted to safety. He hid in a barn in the village of Ottrot, some 15 miles from Strasbourg.
Unfortunately for Habgood, he was spotted by a local woman who reported his location to the Gestapo. The Gestapo transported him six miles up the road to Natzweiler-Struthof, the only concentration camp built by the Nazis on French soil. Within two days, on 31 July 1944, 80 years ago tomorrow, Habgood was executed. It was a gross violation of the Geneva Convention and one for which the perpetrators paid with their own lives in 1946. Harold was 21 years old.
It was a sorry story among so many sorry stories from World War II. But Harold’s story has an uplifting and unlikely postscript.
In 2018, just six years ago, some maintenance work was being carried out at the Natzweiler-Struthof concentration camp, now a museum and memorial site dedicated to victims of the holocaust. A young girl was watering flowers around the ash pit where the remains of executed prisoners were cremated. She noticed a small object glinting close to her.
Natzweiler-Struthof concentration camp, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
That glinting object was Harold Habgood’s bracelet from 74 years earlier. The bracelet was returned to the family who, in turn, donated it to St Clement Danes Church, where it remains today.
So, this Wednesday, spare a thought for Harold Habgood and all RAF servicemen who suffered similar fates during World War II.
*The Church plays the tune of Oranges and Lemons every three hours between 9 am and 5 pm if you happen to be passing.
Podcast episode... a look back
Episode 24. Vietnam War: The Trail
On 28 July 1965, US President Lyndon Johnson announced that an extra 50,000 troops would be sent to the Vietnam War to strengthen the 75,000 troops already there. This pivotal and controversial decision committed the United States to a prolonged war in Vietnam. 58,000 US troops would never return home.
It was also a decision that led to Robin Bartlett joining the war effort in 1968. Robin would spend 12 months within breathing distance of the Viet Cong, living in super-intense humidity and surviving one day to the next. Luckily, Robin did survive to tell his story. I was privileged to talk with him in our episode, The Trail. Robin described the daily, relentless grind of moving through the jungle, negotiating muddy rice paddies infested with leeches and confronting the enemy.
Listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Overcast, Pocket Casts, Amazon Music or just about any other podcast player of your choice. Check out the show notes for the links and transcript to learn more.
My favourite quotes from the episode…
They were well-trained to operate at night, move at night, fight at night, and ambush at night. They would ambush our ambushes.
My usual reaction in cases like that was what I called ‘reconnaissance by fire’. I called for artillery in front of us, and I shot a lot of artillery. I shot so much artillery that they actually had to put a budget on me.
If you wish to give special recognition to a Vietnam veteran, to recognise what we went through in our war, and the sacrifices that we made to secure American freedoms and the American way of life, you say, "Welcome home", and you watch the reaction.
Thanks again, Robin.
By the way…
You will have seen the chaos caused on the French railway network last week, timed to disrupt the opening of the Paris Olympic Games. Eurostar, which runs from London to Paris, has been particularly affected. It was 37 years ago tomorrow, 29 July 1987, that Margaret Thatcher and French President François Mitterand signed the agreement to build the Channel Tunnel, which has made that trip possible ever since.
Hats off to the French. I thought Friday’s Olympic opening ceremony was excellent and a refreshing change from the usual stadium productions. The ceremony featured the Arc de Triomphe, that wonderful structure at the head of the Champs-Élysées. Originally commissioned by Napoleon, it celebrates its 188th anniversary tomorrow, having been inaugurated on 29 July 1836.
Dates with History…
Today...
On 28 July 1951, Walt Disney released the much-loved film Alice in Wonderland in the United States, based on Lewis Carroll’s book of the same name. The character Alice was based on a little girl, Alice Liddell, who lived most of her married life up the road from me in Lyndhurst, Hampshire.
Tomorrow…
The film A Matter of Life and Death, a fantasy-romance-styled WWII film, was released in 1946. King George VI and Queen Elizabeth attended the UK Premiere in Leicester Square. Much of the film’s appeal was the performance of two stars, David Niven and Raymond Massey. (I read David Niven’s charming autobiography, “The Moon’s a Balloon,” many years ago.)
Allen Warren, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons
It really did turn out to be a matter of life or death as the two actors died on the same day, some 37 years later, on 29 July 1983.
Later this week…
250 years ago on Thursday, Joseph Priestley, the English chemist and philosopher, discovered oxygen gas, 1 August 1774. This discovery was seen as the pivotal moment in the founding of modern chemical science.
Question of the week...
You’ll have almost certainly seen at some point images of Adolf Hitler attending the opening of the Berlin Olympics on 29 July 1936. Due to Hitler and World War II, that was the last Olympic Games for 12 years. Where were the next Games held?(answer at bottom of newsletter)
And finally...
I am no literary scholar, but occasionally I stumble across writing that hits a nerve. One such writing is the poem The Soldier, written by Rupert Brooke in 1914. It was the inspiration of a young man who had not yet seen war. The first verse suggests that death in war would be an everlasting patriotic sacrifice.
Brooke joined the Royal Navy later that year but unfortunately died of blood poisoning in Greece while waiting to join the British Mediterranean Expeditionary Force at Gallipoli. It probably wasn’t quite the glorious death that he had contemplated. He was 27 years old.
Brooke's birthday, 3 August 1887, is remembered on Saturday.
Rupert Brooke: See page for author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
Spread the word...
If you've enjoyed this newsletter, please help me spread the word by forwarding it to a friend.
If you have received this newsletter from a friend and would like to receive your own weekly copy of The Breezer, then feel free to sign up here.
Thank you for joining me. Have a great week!
Steve
HOST & CHIEF STORY HUNTER
P:S: Incidentally, I am always keen to receive your feedback to help me continuously improve this newsletter and the podcast. Just hit reply to this email and...... let it rip! I respond to every email that I receive.
Answer to Question of the week: London, 29 July 1948. The games were played out against a backdrop of continuing hardship from the war. Rationing was still in force, and no new venues were built as they would be today. But it was a game that symbolised resilience and hope. Perhaps we could adopt this approach for future Olympics.
The Opening of the London Olympics, 1948. National Media Museum from UK Daily Herald Archive at the National Media Museum, No restrictions, via Wikimedia Commons
NEXT WEEK'S BREEZER
Following the path of British democracy one step at a time
LAST WEEK'S BREEZER
From election to ejection - some politicians barely warmed their seats
Attribution for cover image: Harold Habgood’s bracelet: Déportation-Résistance, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
THIS NEWSLETTER IS PUBLISHED ON THE BATTING THE BREEZE WEBSITE WITH A 2-WEEK DELAY. TO RECEIVE YOUR PERSONAL NEWSLETTER ON THE DAY, WHY NOT SIGN UP NOW. THANK YOU.
You can listen to the Batting the Breeze podcast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Overcast, Pocket Casts, Amazon Music or any other podcast player of your choice. See podcast player links at the top of this page.
Copyright © 2024 Logical Business Ltd. All rights reserved.