We Will Remember Them

– 'Ode of Remembrance', 'For the Fallen' by Laurence Binyon

The Netherlands isn't Neverland

In mid-July I had a rather excited phone call from my dad, who said that he had been phoned by officials of Stichting Missing Airmen Memorial Foundation (SMAMF) the Dutch government saying, 'We believe you are among the nearest living relatives of Charles Sprack' and inviting him to attend the commemoration programme and aircraft crash site. He was both excited and apprehensive, not travelling well, and so I believe he invited me to accompany him not only because he knew I'd be interested, but also to assure him that I would ensure that he got to the right place at the right time. My dad was hesitant about whether or not to go, not sure what to expect, until I told him that I'd rather be disappointed that what happened wasn't as good as we had hoped it would be then disappointed that we'd never gone.

I invited my 15-year-old son too, as chances like this don't come around often and I thought the experience would be good for him. I booked us to stay in the hotel which was the focal point for the programme which was in a town in Súdwest-Fryslâ called Sneek. As my father doesn't like flying we travelled to the Netherlands by train and he spent the whole journey worrying about what would happen if any of our trains were late and we missed the connection. None of the trains were late, the journey worked out fine. The only incident was when we arrived in Sneek and I saw that the hotel was a short, ludicrously flat two-mile walk south of the station, obviously having been sat down for hours I wanted to stretch my legs and walk there. Which we did but he got a little impatient and as we were going through a picturesque country park full of Highland cattle¹ next to the hotel, he decided to take a short cut climbing the fence rather than walk to the gate. I have absolutely no idea why he did that, as being a fence for cattle it was electrified, and the consequences were predictable.

Sneek is in Súdwest-Fryslâ (Southwest Frisia), a municipality in the province of Friesland. Obviously Holland is also one of the provinces of the Netherlands and referring to the whole country as 'Holland' would be like referring to the entire United States of America as 'New York'² or all of the British Isles as 'England'. When we got into the hotel we were shown to a table where other people who had travelled to the hotel that day and were late for dinner were eating – and it turns out that everyone else on the table was related to Charles Sprack, and were relatives we hadn't known or met before.

On the day after our arrival we went to attend ceremonies at each of the Commonwealth War Graves cemeteries where the four airmen from ED603 whose bodies washed ashore were buried.

The Commonwealth War Graves Commission

Since its founding by Royal Charter in 1917, the Commonwealth War Graves Commission works on behalf of the Governments of Australia, Canada, India, New Zealand, South Africa and the United Kingdom to commemorate over 1.7 million men and women from the Commonwealth who lost their lives in both World Wars. They look after 23,000 cemeteries in over 150 different countries. The principle is that every man or woman of the British Empire who fell in the Great War, and later Second World War, on land and at sea should be commemorated equally. Some of the 23,000 cemeteries are vast, others are only a small number of graves within an existing graveyard.

Whereas other nations, such as the United States, returned their war dead to their homeland, the British Empire had a problem in that even during the Second World War, the British Empire still consisted of a quarter of Earth's population and a fifth of its land mass. Returning the fallen to their homeland was considered logistically impossible for the government when conceivably someone British could not only be from Britain but also Canada, New Zealand, Australia, India, much of Africa, or many other nations, islands or territories around the world. There was also a worry that if the government did not pay to return the bodies of the fallen, then mourning would become divisive and unfair along class lines; the rich would pay for their lost ones to be repatriated and reburied in their homelands while the poor would either be unable to afford to, or the vulnerable in society such as widows would bankrupt themselves in order to pay for their loved ones' repatriation. So the decision was made that everyone irrespective of class, birthplace or background would be buried equally in the place where they fell, or nearest appropriate graveyard, despite the world's differences in religion, burial customs and alphabets.

The Commonwealth War Graves Commission also does not conduct DNA tests as readily as other nations to prove the identities of the fallen or ensure body parts belong to the same corpse. This is because they believe that war dead should, as far as possible, be allowed to rest in peace and not be disturbed. The level of proof required to formally identify a war casualty is very high and it is not always possible to name individuals found.

Workum

At 9am a group of 31 relatives of the crew of ED603 as well as three representatives of the Missing Airmen Memorial Foundation boarded a coach for the day of remembrance, starting at Workum cemetery. This is where Navigator HE Howsam and Bomb Aimer AG Fletcher of the Royal Canadian Air Force are buried.

'Thank You For Dying For Me'

The coach stopped just outside the cemetery and we crossed the little bridge into the graveyard. There were a small number of Commonwealth graves, just nine, amongst the rest of the cemetery. Each of the gravestones had beside it a plaque showing a photograph of the man buried there. As we approached and the cemetery grew silent, a local dignitary began the service, followed by words spoken by Nykle of the SMAMF about the two men from ED603. There was a minute of silence and after a trumpet blew the Last Post one of the relatives of another airmen who was an active member of the British Legion³ read the Ode of Remembrance, which understandably is not a vital part of Dutch culture at Remembrance ceremonies despite its central place at remembrance ceremonies in Britain and Commonwealth nations.

After the ceremony a group of school children wearing blue jumpers emblazoned with ED603 came forward. Nine children read a poem or letter they had written about the men in the cemetery, in English, saying how grateful they were that these men had died for their freedom. They then each laid a flower by the graves of the servicemen who had died during the Second World War and after gave us each a booklet showing pictures and poems written about the airmen who died. The girl who passed me a booklet said in hesitant English, Thank you for dying for me. Obviously I didn't - and my cousin didn't die specifically for her, but he did die on a mission because it was genuinely believed at the time that an intensive bombing campaign might end the Second World War.

After the ceremony I was told that photographs had been taken that would be on the Workum.nl nieuws website. We were also shown photographs of how, over Christmas, candles in lanterns are placed on the graves to keep them alight at that time, as well as pictures of the cemetery on 4th May, which is the day each year when children from all the schools in town gather in the cemetery to give thanks to the war dead for their freedom.

Thomashof Resistance Monument

After the hourlong ceremony at Workum the coach drove us a short distance to the Thomashof Resistance Monument, where we stopped and were told by our guide that we would get off the coach to see it, only for another dignitary to say that no, there wasn't time, but we could look at it from the window while the first guide described it, and after he did so we all ended up leaving the coach to see it for ourselves anyway.

We were told that the Resistance Monument was an abstract sculpture made by the children at three local primary schools under the direction of a local artist. It consists of three stones symbolising the three stages of Liberation: 'Oppression', 'Resistance' and 'Freedom', with a different stone representing each. We were also told that on 4th May the children of the local schools assemble to walk from here to the cemetery while carrying flowers. 4th May is the Dutch Remembrance Day while 5th May is Liberation Day.

I really had not grasped how large an influence on the Dutch psyche even today the events of the Second World War are, nor how genuinely grateful they are to those who died fighting the Nazis in the Second World nor how immaculately spotless the war graves are kept. Those of us from countries that have no living memories of being conquered cannot experience the gratitude felt by those⁴ who have been liberated. Occupation did not mean that you might get a parking ticket from someone with a German accent and your taxes end up in Berlin rather than Amsterdam. It meant all the men in your town are taken away, anyone with the wrong political beliefs, religion, sexuality or opinions disappear, you have less than a quarter of the food that you used to and if you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, or do the wrong thing, your life is over.

Almost, But Not Quite, Entirely Unlike Tea

After this we stopped in Workum for a trip to a café, where I made the mistake of asking for a cup of tea, only to be given a glass of hot water. A few minutes later, I was given a tea bag. This resulted in a drink that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea. After all, tea must be brewed at boiling, as close to 100°C as possible and left to brew properly, not in cooled down vaguely tepid water. When they came round to make people a second cup, I left to have a look around the local area, which was incredibly picturesque. What I realised was that we had left traffic behind and for the rest of the day we travelled to towns where cars had been largely left out of town where they wouldn't be in people's way, while the town centres were actually dedicated for people to use, with pedestrians and cyclists. From the time I spent in the Netherlands I can say that what I saw really was the epitome of tranquil town planning, but the yin to the yang being an inability to get a decent cup of tea. So near perfection, and yet so far.

Heading to Hindeloopen

After the café the coach took us to Hindeloopen, to the cemetery where Tail Gunner Gordon Sugar was buried.

Double Dutch?

Hindeloopen apparently famously was a virtually isolated town by land, and developed its own language largely influenced by Nordic countries. Friesland, the province I was in, also has its own language of Frisian – and its use is encouraged on a local level. Indeed we kept seeing a local television news crew who were speaking Frisian, while the national language is Dutch. So I was in a town with its own language in a region with its own language in a country with its own language. Normally when abroad I try to make the effort to learn a few useful phrases if only to be polite, but as the languages I was hearing kept switching I'm afraid I didn't do as well as I'd hoped.

Grote Kerk

In Hindeloopen we stopped opposite the Grote Kerk, a picturesque church whose oldest part was only built in 1593 as the older church on the site was destroyed in the Eighty Years War⁵, but is a beautiful building with incredible architecture nonetheless, and the organ particularly looked stunning.

Hindeloopen's Commonwealth War Grave contains 11 airmen; seven from the United Kingdom with three Known Unto God, three from Canada, two of whom are unknown, and one from Australia.

The format of the ceremony followed the same pattern as at Workum, this time dedicated to Pilot Officer Sugar. Once again local school children played an active part and the graves were clearly meticulously cared for. This is in direct contrast to the RAF Bomber Command Memorial, a recent monument in London which seems to be frequently desecrated. It had only finally been unveiled in 2012 as a tribute to the 55,573 Bomber Command crew who lost their lives in the Second World War. Bomber Command crews suffered the highest casualty rate of any Allied force in the Second World War, with 55,573 were killed, which was a 44.4% death rate. Not to mention the further 8,403 men seriously wounded in action and 9,838 prisoners of war. Essentially the odds of getting through the war unscathed were very much stacked against them, and after the war their bravery and sacrifice was at best forgotten, if not considered abhorrent. The men of Bomber Command are still considered an anathema as while the bombing campaigns achieved the destruction of German industry and tipped the balance in the Allies favour, the imprecise nature of bombing campaigns at the time meant that between 350,000-500,000 German civilians were killed by Allied bombing.

Stavoren

After leaving Hindeloopen we headed to the waterside town of Stavoren, but as we were ahead of schedule we had a quick stop next to a giant fish fountain. What type of fish was it? If you asked Captain Mainwaring he'd respond, Don't tell him, Pike! With the coach transport it was very much a case that they allowed plenty of time for potential delays on our journey, but as there weren't any we arrived ahead of time, which as our party was meeting up with local dignitaries and schools in various places for Remembrance ceremonies meant we had to wait before arriving. As the Netherlands is famous for its drainage system and rivers, their road network, at least around Friesland, involves are a lot of bascule and other drawbridges that rise and lower to allow yachts to pass by. These are on a traffic light system, reminding me of Yarmouth's swing bridge on the Isle of Wight but opening vertically rather than horizontally and in much greater numbers. All the bridges were in our favour that day, so we ended up ahead of schedule. After seeing the fish we went to a Scottish-themed restaurant, which despite raising our hopes with their theme, again did not know how to make tea.

Anyway, afterwards we walked to Stavoren cemetery, adjacent St Nicholas. There are seven Commonwealth war graves, two from the United Kingdom, two from Canada, one from Australia and two whose identity and nationality are known unto God. In the cemetery flies the Dutch and Canadian flags alongside the Union Jack. Once again a local dignitary gave a speech, children read out their poems and dedications, there was a silence followed by the bugle call and the relative involved with the British Legion read out the Ode of Remembrance, with all the relatives repeating We will remember them.

Remember Remember

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.

We will remember them.

What do you think of during a two-minute silence before you hear those familiar words? Remembering Them – and specifically my cousin Charles whose aircraft was being excavated as I stood was the reason why I was there. Every November for Remembrance Day and Remembrance Sunday all my life I have repeated the words, a promise to remember not only the brave who died in battle, but all the innocent civilian deaths. Had I not gone to Friesland to attend the ceremonies of Remembrance, I would judge myself a hypocrite. Repeating the words is a vow to Remember the cost of war for all sides, as we are all people with families and friends, all affected by grief. We had gathered in that cemetery outside a small church whose name is associated with Christmas because 80 years ago our relatives were on a bomber aircraft that was shot down. The bomber crew believed that their raid would help end the war, and the German air ace who killed them wanted to defend his homeland and stop his enemy from dropping bombs on it, which is understandable and perfectly natural. War is a waste for all on both sides. We should not judge the past by the standards of today, but must definitely learn from it.

When you think of a military funeral, the images that spring to mind might be of a coffin draped with a flag. And then people who know how to fold crisp packets really, really small for some reason might do the same thing with that flag. Then in some countries a bunch of soldiers will fire their guns up in the air for some reason. Maybe they're trying to kill God in revenge for His not stopping the death of the servicemen, or maybe they are recreating the last sound the deceased heard before his death for the benefit of his family and friends, who knows. Doesn't matter if you have a flag at half mast or play Last Post or Retreat on the bugle; nothing you do will bring the lost back to life.

What you can do is remember. Remember the cost of war and ensure that future generations also remember the right lessons from the war to ensure that they do not repeat those mistakes. And the way that the ceremonies have been conducted and how the graves have been cared for, and the involvement of the children in the Netherlands was moving beyond belief.

National Monument Missing Airmen

Our final stop of the day was to the nearby village of Molkwerum. This is about halfway between Stavoren and Hindeloopen, on the edge of the IJsselmeer. There, in 2022 was unveiled the National Monument Missing Airmen, a monument dedicated to those who, like my cousin Charles, were among the over a hundred aircraft that crashed into the IJsselmeer during the Second World War and 220 crewmen whose bodies were never recovered. The monument is shaped like an aircraft wingtip sticking out of the water near the shore, symbolising a crash. It is a hauntingly simple but effective design.

Bluebottle

09.10.23 Front Page

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