https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1415/26753/MWarrenGC1580687-190813-02.pdf 9ff6f3cdfe8a415490cf8683bf75023d Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Warren, George George Clarence Warren G C Warren Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2019-08-13 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Warren, GC Description An account of the resource 47 items. The collection concerns Flying Officer George Warren (162041 Royal Air Force) he flew operations as a navigator with 626 Squadron until he was killed&nbsp;<span>16 March 1945 on an operation to Nürnberg. The collection contains his log book, correspondence and photographs.</span><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Harris and Vanessa Hibbert and catalogued by Barry Hunter. <br /><br />Additional information on George Warren is available via the&nbsp;<a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/124450/ ">IBCC Losses Database.</a> Access Rights Information about who can access the resource or an indication of its security status. Access Rights may include information regarding access or restrictions based on privacy, security, or other policies. Permission granted for commercial projects Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document 24-4-44 [page break] [underlined] DF Haste [/underlined] West Lodge. St Leonards Terr. [underlined] Chelsea, S.W. [deleted] [indecipherable number] [/deleted] [/undelrined] X P/O G.C WARREN, 250, St. Benedicts Rd Small Heath, [underlined] BIRMINGHAM, 10. [/underlined] [page break] [underlined] Page [/underlined] [circled 1] Dec 31st (1943) [circled 5] The Old Bridge. X [circled 7] Dunkirk [circled 9] At Sea [circled 11] Monty’s Moon X [circled 14] On leaving Snowdonia in Wartime X [circled 17] Waiting. X [circled 22] The letter. X [circled 25] Reverie. X [circled 27] Mirage. [circled 29] Anticipation. [circled 31] Monotony. [circled 33] Cwm Idwal. [circled 36] England [circled 38] Little Boy’s Song [circled 40] Sunk City of Llys Helig. [circled 43] Cuckoo & Starling. [circled 45] Evensong [circled 47] Realisation. [underlined] Written in bed [/underlined] [page break] [blank page] [page break] [circled 1] [underlined] Dec 31st 1943. [/underlined] England at peace a while, by lace-fringed seas! The day is dead, the year is dying too But rising on the cool December breeze A symphony of hatred throbs anew. Winged Death, aloft to strike while you may sleep … Often you’ve heard us heading from the shore High where the weaving searchlights softly sweep, Lost in a far-off glow where cannons roar [underlined] P.T.O. [/underlined] [page break] [circled 2] Peace on the earth below! …. but what is ours? Be still a while & gaze into the sky – Only the moon’s cold face, the beating showers Only a cool caress as clouds float by. Hark to our call, for we have learnt so well That peace you know below must die again; Our new world lies the other side of Hell! Our bounty bought with blood, our peace with pain! [page break] [circled 3] Your peace is here, but ours lies far away; Nightly we seek it when the sunset dies; It beckons to us all at close of day And kindles burning hope within our eyes. But when these well-loved fields are out of sight, When foreign hate assaults us hour by hour, Will vows you make sustain us through the night And find us buoyed & strengthened with their power? [page break] [circled 4] Now there is peace … tomorrow dawns a year When veils are cast aside, war blazes still – Vow to be true, to fight for all that’s dear, And face the coming trials with stronger will! [page break] [circled 5] The Old Bridge The bridge’s back is bent with age; I’ve often heard him sigh And felt his body shake with rage, When loaded carts roll by. His wrinkled brow is set with [indecipherable word] His dusty cheeks are brown; His boots lie where the mill-wheel turns, He wears an ivy gown. His eyes are dimmed with gazing deep Where homing salmon lie; Where Summer clouds on blue skies sleep And piping swallows fly. [page break] [circled 6] He lies & thinks of days he knew, When many a thieving band Rose early with the evening dew To make the traveller stand. He dreams of nights that he loved best, When Empire’s martial tread Oft started fledglings in their next, And stirred him in his bed. …. Now children come – a happy throng – To sail boats from the shore. The old bridge listens to their song And he is young once more. [page break] [circled 7] [underlined] Dunkirk [/underlined] Theirs were the vain ambitions, unplumbed powers And theirs the fettered minds & parting griefs, Theirs were the days of wasted, waiting hours Half-living hopes, half-dead beliefs. But now a doubly-armoured turret runs In God & right against a common foe; Theirs are the deeds that rouse our nation’s Sons And theirs the debt of gratitude we owe [page break] [circled 8] For now’s their call to serve, their blood to pour, And theirs the shattered bodies, exiles’ graves, That hidden lie upon a foreign shore, Picked by the winds and watered by the waves Neptune has mocked, as we half-sleeping lay And heard the snort of porpoise in their leap Watch silver sharks slide silently away Or flying fish weave patterns on the deep. [page break] [circled 9] [underlined] At Sea [/underlined] Tho’ [deleted] se [/deleted] ripples race & tall ships throb with power While listless pennants hang in sultry air, The glassy seas are changeless hour by hour, The skyline clear, inviolate & bare. Long have we watched a silver band unfold, Poured from our stern and, bubbling blithely, slips, Into the haze-soaked seas of shimmering gold That hang like morning skies behind the ship. [page break] [circled 10] The flying fish, the porpoise in its leap May mock us, caged, imprisoned as we are Watching their playful freedom of the deep Seeing their carefree wanderings from afar. Then comes the day, in sweltering sun-soaked sky, The cloud-smudged shore lies [deleted] sleeping [/deleted] shimm’ring [sic] close at hand And all around in sleep the tall ships lie At peace within the shelt’ring [sic] arms of land. [page break] [circled 11] Monty’s Moon. There’s a low, dull, rumbling tremor in the streets of Tripoli, For the pride of Nazi Germany has sailed across the sea To where Rommel stands & watches as the armour rumbles by, With defiance in the glances of his cold determined eye ……. But before the daylight’s ended & the sunset’s embers die The clouds are laced with silver & the moon rides in the sky. [underlined] P.T.O. [/underlined] [circled 12] [underlined] “Monty’s Moon” (cont) [/underlined] Monty’s Moon glides over Alamein, above the cannon’s roar, And the Armoured Corps is rolling back along the arid shore; While Rommel stands & watches, with still unbroken will As he thinks of vain ambitions he believes he can fulfil And he scans the broken [indecipherable word] where the battle rages still, While the desert moon cuts shadows on each sandy cove & hill. The low, dull, rumbling tremor is in Tripoli again With the Panzers streaming westward to seek safety in the plain. Their eyes are red with watching & they’re worn out in the flight While still resolute, yet haggard, & tortured with the sight, Rommel sees their hurried passing under cover of the night And the desert moon shines down on him & mocks him with its light. [page break] [circled 13] The echo of the barrage roar has died, & silence falls As the smoke & fumes of battle drift along the harbour walls And crown the weary armies with an everlasting wreath, As Monty lifts the sword of war and drives it in the sheath …. For the desert moon has smiled on him & watched him far beneath Ashe took the Nazis’ challenge & dashed it in their teeth. [page break] [circled 14] [underlined] On Leaving Snowdonia in Wartime. [/underlined] Now are the shutters closed, the curtains drawn! Forgotten or to be forgot the life we knew! Set is the sun to westward, flaming torn! Wet are our tears of grief in twilight’s dew. Around us are the joys that cannot die, Nor seek the shades of past where memory flees – Gray lakes that sleep beneath a sullen sky, And leaves that rustle in a fitful breeze. [page break] [circled 15] Remember days of sunshine – days so bright That all the crowded peaks in stillness lay Soft, warm & clear – dark gullies flecked with white And breeze-fanned ridges stretching far away, Long chutes of scree where trailing snow-ribs wait To feel the sunlight’s warm, reluctant peep! Unending paths through heather, fern & slate – Lonely abode of buzzard, haunt of sheep. PTO. [page break] [circled 16] Are these all gone & never to return – Cool new-born streams from ice – gleams in the break, The raven’s wheeling glide, the rock strewn burn, The call of friends across the brimming lake? The winds on Snowdon sigh a song of sorrow And LLydaw’s waters mirror clouds of gray. Beneath, in Glaslyn’s shades, I see tomorrow; Beyond, in flickering sunlight, yesterday! [page break] [circled 17] [underlined] Waiting. [/underlined] The moon is clear, & in the darkening sky, Aflame with gold & scarlet in the west, The ground-crews hear the wild geese winging by, To seek the silent shelter of their nest. Softly the day has died, the sun has set With starry patters lacing skies of red, While here they joked & laughed – tried to forget, Just for a while, the task that lay ahead. [underlined] PTO. [/underlined] [page break] [circled 18] Briefing was done & silence was no more The gramaphone [sic] jarred out, some called for beer And stood in noisy groups around the door, All anxious for the waiter to appear. Some smoked in corners, others chatted loud Or sang & joked, their boyish faces bright, As eager voices rose from every crowd And echoed in the stillness of the night. [page break] [circled 19] The kitten that the gunner’s hand caressed Reminded him of home & pets he knew, Far from his drift sights, Browning at his chest And linking fighters pouncing from the blue. Now they are gone I can close the door Leaving those unused log-sheets here & there – Some scattered with the litter on the floor, Some piled in shapeless heaps upon a chair. [underlined] PTO [/underlined] [page break] [circled 20] The final thundering dies & silence reigns The gramaphone [sic] is mute, the kittens sleep, The room itself seems hushed to hear the planes That now go purring eastward o’er the deep. Soon we shall hear no more, all will be still Save where some far-off watcher hears the roar As out-bound giants drone across the hill And hurry, snailing [sic] seaward, from the shore [page break] [circled 21] Piercing the clouds, they leave the coast behind With lights now dimmed and vanishing from view And I must only wait & hope to find, As morning sun comes up, none overdue. Perhaps I’ll see them climbing into sight, Then circling low around their mother drome, As glist’ning [sic] turrets catch the early light And each one glides towards me, safely home [page break] [circled 22] The Letter. The letter brought me comfort, as I saw the radiant glow That she had seen so often sun-gilding, as she stood, The patchwork of the valley that straggled far below, And splashing streaks of colour on each meadow, stream & wood - As if God smiled above it all & knew that it was good. For me those streamlets rippled thro’ reed & violet bed In English glades she told me of – aslant the morning light – I felt the cooling shadow of the boughs above my head, And watched the glistening mountain range beneath its shawl of white - And stood, as she had, spellbound as I marvelled at the sight. [page break] [circled 23] Below, the woodsman’s axe – blows reechoed [sic] from afar And stealing through the thicket came the smell of fresh-wood fire As they slashed the woodland’s glowing cheeks to leave a lasting scar While, with her, I stood & wondered – and gazed a little higher At the mounting smoke-wisp rising like a pale ephemeral spire. Still & silent near the fledglings, she paints them as she sits And tells me of their flutterings & games they think unseen With her I see the blackbirds, hear the piping of the tits While the morning sun casts beams of light that shimmer on the scene - And there she is all-smiling & watching from the green. [page break] [circled 24] Sometimes she lies half-sleeping, her head among the ferns. Near the trout-pool I remember, where the deepest waters flow And she thinks of me while watching as the droning giant turns And swoops down in snarling anger [deleted] on the peaceful vale below [/deleted] on the hills I used to know To tear the veil of silence from the valley far below. Or poised in furtive motion against a field of blue Cloud-coursing in another world, slow-passing, crawling by, She can see the path of others & ponder on the view Of high-suspended vapour trails aglint against the sky - Then sadly seal the letter & await a brief reply. [page break] [circled 25] [underlined] Reverie [/underlined] In dreams I lay and, peering in the air, My gaze reached far beyond the puny Ken That bounds the far-flung field of human view - Beyond the rolling clouds that hovered there, High in the airy realms unknown to men, Above the swirling vastness of the blue ……… And there, in billowing space, there lay revealed, As overawed in silent thought I lay The road to that far-off Elysean field Where dwell the bomber-crews of yesterday. [underlined] PTO [/underlined] [page break] [circled 26] As storm-swept ships that reach their mother shore Lie rocking in the swell of some lagoon, There they may rest secure in soothing sleep - Far from the clawing cannons spiteful roar, Safe from the writhing searchlights silent sweep, And soft revealing finger of the moon. ….. But as the daylight faded in the west And purring vengeance climbed where starlight shone, The echo reached the haven of the blest – And when I looked again the road was gone! But God be merciful & grant them rest And us the will & strength to carry on [page break] [circled 27] [underlined] MIRAGE [/underlined] The old Welsh hills are calling; Their call is loud & clear; It tells of fir-cones falling And otters in the weir; It tells of patient waiting, Of watch that never fails In peaceful contemplating Of far-off Cambrian vales. The highland lakes are singing A song that brings to mind Those mountain sunsets bringing Night’s shadows close behind, The heather’s purple tinting And the pink of twilight snow With the flash of salmon glinting In the rocky pools below. [page break] [circled 28] The moorland slopes are telling A tale that brings back dreams Of bilberry clusters swelling By boulder-scattered streams - Tales of winding rocky walls And bleak Welsh-mountain lane That winds across the ridge & falls To hamlets in the plain. The curlew’s plaintive crying Reechoes [sic] through the air Lamenting summer’s dying In hollows dark & bare; The mists hang low in weeping Through the soft wind’s sighs And here I lie half-sleeping, With Wales before my eyes. [page break] [circled 29] [underlined] Anticipation [/underlined] Tho’ no man dares to say “I’m bound for home” Lest jealous Fates should chuckle from above, Some may have seen white headlands flecked with foam And visions of the England that they love. In radiant noon, half-sleeping in the heat, The Irishmen wait patient for that shore That brings them silver streams, sweet-scented peat And warm embraces as some cottage door. [page break] [circled 30] In flick’ring [sic] dawn, as throbbing engines turn And silent ‘neath the stars all else is still The Scotsman wanders down the rocky burn That feeds the lake below the fern-clad hill. In midnight heat, the homesick Welshmen long For ragged peaks on guard above the plain; Perhaps they hear the village choir in song And turning in their hammocks, sleeps again [page break] [circled 31] [underlined] Monotony. [/underlined] Time is half-dead & every break of day Is as a curtain-raising on a scene Of well-worn hopes – a worthless puppet play And peace alone in dreams that might have been. Grey dawns have flickered, hesitant & shy To tinge unwilling East with cloud-laced day; Slowly the sun has climbed the misty Drawing aside the haze wisps on her way. [page break] [circled 32] Around, the convoy crawls on seas of light, Past fleecy clouds that never knew a breeze, Sailing with wavering course towards the night That lies beyond the mirror of the seas ….. Beyond the moving glory of the West Where ruddy clouds are piled on seas of flame; Into the midnight heat where tired eyes rest And dream of days to come that are the same [page break] [circled 33] [underlined] Cwm Idwal [/underlined] Sad, silent hollow – rocky home of peace Where footsteps seldom nature’s slumb’ring [sic] break Where crag-cooled winds are calmed and, whimpering, cease Their frantic tearing at the lower lake. High-soaring peaks, dark Glyder’s shattered mass Grey-gilded waters, mirror-like & calm The winding lane that topples down the pass Will these still live to haunt me with their charm? Beyond the falls, the chapel, bridge & farm. [page break] [circled 34] Sweet, silver streams, bedecked with Springtime’s blooms, Hanging like threads upon the rain-soaked hill, Moss-coated clefts where foam-flecked water looms Then hides within the [deleted] lake [/deleted] [inserted] marsh [/inserted] where all is still. Grey rugged ridges, pointing to the plain, Like gable-ends or wicked, gnarled & bent; Green verdant vale I pray I’ll see again To point my way to Ogwen & content. [page break] [circled 35] Cool evening sun on Dafydd’s misty crest While graceful Tryfan’s cove in shadow frowns, As darkness rolls her shroud from out the west Where night lies wrapped in shadow o’er the towns. Can I forget these joys I [deleted] love [/deleted] [inserted] know [/inserted] so well These things in which I found I could believe? Why must I bid a final, fond farewell To those [deleted] fao [/deleted] friends I love yet have to leave When I am gone you’ll know I’ll not forget. Shout to the winds & make the mountain see Though I’m afar my thoughts are with them yet; Tho’ I am gone, I went unwillingly. [page break] [circled 36] England (Bégum [underlined] 1937 [/underlined) At noon in the heat of an African sun As I sprawled beneath a palm, My heart flew back to England’s shore And her half-remembered charm; … For, at setting sun on the Dover cliffs, I gazed enthralled around, And heard the surf moan far below And marvelled at the sound In dreams I lay on a mossy bed Where the cool breeze softly blew, With cloudless skies above my head Where the seagulls homeward flew; I peered below on the foam-tipped rocks, Half-screened in the fading, light, And felt the breakers shake the cliffs, And marvelled at the sight. [page break] [circled 37] Tho’ now I live in a world unknown Where the stories seem dull & gray My heart lives on in a dream that’s flown In a [deleted] shore [/deleted] [inserted] land [/inserted] that’s far away. For there in the dusk, as the soft wind blows And the sea-mists spread their cloaks, I found my Heaven on England’s shores And marvel I ever awoke [page break] [circled 38] [underlined] The little boy’s song (Begum Oct 1939) It’s fun to sit upon a hill And watch the world below I see the turning watermill And cows so small & slow; And as I sit so very high I seem so big and tall With all the people passing by So elf-like and so small. But when the day is over And I am there alone I lie in scented clover And think I’m on a throne For when I gaze out far away I’m king of all the land And all the subjects I survey Must bow to my command [page break] [circled 39] When nurse comes out as shadows fall I see her far below And tho’ at first she’s very small I watch her grow and grow And when she takes me by the hand In shame I bow my head For she is mistress of the land And rules there in my stead [page break] [circled 40] The sunk City of Llys-Helig. Upon the hills of Conway, where gentle breezes blow, I’ve watched the golden shore beneath where silver runnels flow, In the stillness of the morning I have heard Traeth Lafan weep And the tide-spent waters sobbing as they hurry to the deep. For when I see the breakers as they rumble at my feet I hear the mills of days of old which ground the golden wheat And when I gaze out seawards, in the glory of the dawn Lie the fields of old Llys Helig, all rich with waving corn [page break] [circled 41] Sometimes I sit & ponder with the salt-spray in my eyes And see the coast near Penmaenmawr, while in the morning skies Soft wisps of gold from Ireland sweep away the sullen night And mirrored in the wave-tips fill the heaving seas with light … But then I stand in wonder while the soaring seagulls screech And watch the fleecy ripples as they ramble up the beach And seem to see before me, while the foaming waters leap, The shepherds of Llys Helig with flocks of bleating sheep. [underlined] PTO [/underlined] [page break] [circled 42] Perhaps with faltering vision my [inserted] tired [/inserted] eyes grew [deleted] a little [/deleted] dimmer And dreaming back a thousand years my thoughts were far away As I peered across forgotten lands where sunbeams lay a shimmer On the streets that knew the footsteps of a far-off yesterday For the rocks that lie beneath me, beyond the ancient caves Are spires of old Llys Helig that tower above the waves And stretching out before me, [deleted] as far as I can see [/deleted] [inserted] in stately majesty [/inserted] Lies the town that nestled round them – asleep beneath the sea. [page break] [circled 43] (1933) [underlined] The Cuckoo & the Starling [/underlined] The cuckoo met the starling & straightway the former spoke And asked for information about the city folk. “What say they”, was the cuckoo’s plea, “What say they of our melody?” “What think they of the nightingale?” “To praise his song they never fail” “What of the lark?” the cuckoo cried. “Most love his song,” his friend replied. “What of the blackbird – tell me true?” “To praise his song there are a few” …… The cuckoo paused, then cautiously “One question [deleted] [indecipherable word] [/deleted] more I ask”, cried he Then he flew up to the starling – and hope shone in his eye As he asked if people loved him, and awaited a reply … But the starling answered softly that he hadn’t any fame [page break] [circled 44] And through all his many wanderings he had never heard his name … Then the cuckoo promised vengeance, & he swore he would repay And would chant his name unceasingly from dawn to dusk each day .. So if ever you should hear him, don’t forget a word of praise And he’ll feel we don’t ignore him as we did in olden days. [page break] [circled 45] Evensong (1934) Go now, sweet fisher boy with pliant care, The miller calls, & tho’ I have you stay There is the rushing torrents as they prance, - See how the silver ripples turn to gray And grow, and blush beneath the day’s last glance And seek the bank & then roll back again. Be gone, my boy, too long upon the foam You cast unceasingly your downy fly But now the chill night wind through rushes whines And whispers in the trees & hurries by [page break] [circled 46] While moving lanterns swing among the pines Like lamp-lit schooners reeling gladly home. Farewell, my child, for with the close of day I’ll gaze into these rocky pools and see A world of clouds where trees like phantoms stand Where finely-patterned stars wink up at me And there I’ll gaze & gaze – and in that land I’ll toss my cares & watch them drift away [page break] 47. [underlined] Realisation [/underlined] (Harrogate Feb. 1944) I shall remember always how the sight of lone green hills, With slowly moving cloudlets on the blue sky arched above, Lay mirrored & reflected in the hundred tiny rills That bubble from the lakes and tarns of hollows that I love I shall remember always how the valleys looked so green, How the breeze the rippling heather [deleted] and the fragrant scent of thyme [/deleted] [inserted] on the crags I loved to climb [/inserted] And all the moving beauty of that chaste & lovely scene, Meant more than man’s short journey on the sparing stream of time [page break] (Millom) Slowly I lift my heavy eyes & gaze out out [sic] half asleep At a world for-ever changing where a thousand colours mix, - The stupid, startled scramble of the grey-stained ragged sheep, And while lambs against the carving of the close-cropped russet ricks. Beyond the moistened curtain of the fevered land of dreams, Through the ruffled veil of curving wires that slowly heaves & falls, I can see fresh rushes bending in the ponds & woodland streams, And, primrose plashed & cowslip clothed, the banks & rocky walls [page break] The pinky clouds of cherry-blossom boast of Summer’s fruits, While high in windy solitude the rooks caw round the trees, And Spring smiles up triumphant from a cornfield’s first green shoots, That glisten int eh sunlight beneath the morning breeze. But still the ploughshare turns the soil, and moulds it to man’s will, While here & there the fresh-flung earth is scattered with he grain, As expert hands plunge in the sack upon the dull-brown hill, And the sower treads unhurried in a shower of golden rain. [page break] The rhythmic beating [deleted] ceases, the [/deleted] falters and slowly fades & stops, [deleted] As the moving picture [/deleted] Sleep wipes the moving picture from the steaming windowpane The novel lies unheeded and the tired eyelid drops, While my head is rocked in dreaming by the swaying of the train And I lay back in the grass, watching a big hawk ride the up currents below the top of the crags. [page break] God grant me just one sortie from these shores That all my fevered efforts be no vain Then let man’s trouble agony be done As soon as night is match & right [deleted] peace [/deleted] is wone Then grant grant [sic] the joys that peace alone restores And let me live again [page break] [blank page] [page break] Since I last saw the blue hills sink low beneath the main And prayed that I might see them slow rising up once more The Spring has scattered poppies in the cornfields on the plain Summer has swept the hollows where the snow-ribs shone before And Autumn quenched the gorse-glow that blazed the lakeland shore - A world was born & blighted, a [underlined] world I never saw. [/underlined] Now ice-fringed, wrapped in Slumber, the lake lies drear & still The heather on the moorland is [deleted] withered [/deleted] has faded is gone And spreading sparkling tresses along the rolling hill The snowflakes whirl about me, where late the sunlight shone And willows weep & wither, but comfort is there none - Time touches, tends & tramples & all that was is gone. [page break] The raven rises ragged against a sky of grey The curlew call is silenced, each fledgling brood has flown The sheep lie cold & clustered in the valleys far away And broad & bare the hollows that the roving flock had known The bracken dead or fading, the blackthorn leaves all blown, And I alone [deleted] being [/deleted] contented, at peace among my own [page break] [underlined] Dawn Sortie [/underlined] Spitfires unleashed, zig-zagging slowly past And how that piping music stirs my heart As screeching brakes hiss, holding each one fast – Veiled in the pale half-light, intent to start And shrilling loud farewells ‘til they depart. Mark how they glisten, vibrant, tense with power Perfect from tapered nose to graceful fin Motionless all, awaiting zero hour – Flame-licked exhausts, deep-throated [inserted] [deleted] growl [/deleted] [/inserted] roar within, Gusting the trembling dawn as airscrews spin. [page break] Slowly the [deleted] purring [/deleted] [inserted] growling [/inserted] grows, deep drowning all, And slow I turn my head and watch & wait, As each is loosed, and from a casual crawl, Now rushes forward – throttles to the gate – Hawks of the heavens & harbingers of hate. Now they’re aloft, their wheels are tucked away; Over the fields they [deleted] roar [/deleted] [inserted] sweep [/inserted], beyond the trees Catching the first fireglow of breaking day Rousing the sleeping farms, they soar with ease, Then slowly bank and turn across the breeze. [page break] Riding the lower air, with clear contempt, Now they are gone, unseen from where I lie Climbing the crested clouds to deeds undreamt, Lifting their throbbing bodies to the sky, While all grows still again, and echoes die. [deleted] Slowly the purring grows & strums [/deleted] [inserted] [/deleted] Softly the music purring strains are [/deleted] [/inserted] [deleted] strummed anew, And high above the wheel in southward flight … Slow-moving patterns, strung across They greet where the dawn, the blue, As rosy as golden ruddy sunbeams They drop horizonwards & drove from slip [inserted] from [/inserted] sight - While we, poor fools below, must fly by night. Bathed in [deleted] the [/deleted] [inserted] a [/inserted] silver flood pride of a nation’s of ealy light night. Eyes of the surging vengeance tide [/deleted] [page break] Softly the purring strains are strummed anew And high above they wheel in southward flight Slow-moving patterns – strung across the blue – Bathed in a silver flood of early light They drop horizonwards & slip from sight. [page break] Bring your gun back with you Or come not back at all Bring your gun back with you … And hang it on the wall. Hang it on the wall, lad And clean it once again For the good gun was with you In the sand of Alamein [page break] [blank page] [page break] Wellington. First of the few heavies. [page break] Now when the snow-white cumulus still billows to the south The heavies cross the coast again in ever growing streams From [deleted] Cherbourg [/deleted] [inserted] Caen along to Antifer [/inserted] [deleted] Abeville from Brest to .. mouth [/deleted] [inserted] from Seine to Abeville Mouth The sunny fields of Normany [sic] is [underlined] waking from [/underlined] its dreams. The foe has [deleted] built] [/deleted] [inserted] moved [/inserted] unhindered, [deleted] when the clouds hung deep [/deleted] [inserted] with storm clouds hanging low [/inserted] [inserted] But [/inserted] Now [deleted] the [/deleted] roads are ripe for blasting & [deleted] the [/deleted] bridges attack. [deleted] The [/deleted] And Monty’s men are waiting to watch the mighty blow That must cripple German armour and prevent its rolling [deleted] g [/deleted] back. Let these fields, so green below you that bound the Western Seine Be the graveyard of the Army that has tortured them so long And bomb and blast them hourly [deleted] let ‘til [/deleted] May [deleted] them [/deleted] never rise again [deleted] In the hell of your destruction, [/deleted] Let your [deleted] bombing [/deleted] [page break] Now, when the white [deleted] st [/deleted] cumulus clouds billow in a blue sky, the Airforce is on the wing again [inserted] We see it passing by [/inserted] What the enemy built while the weather was bad & clouds low, now the bombers are blasting away. Let the fields that roll to the West of the Seine be the graveyard of the Germany Army [circled again]. Blast them & bomb them bayonet & bleed them ‘Til Hell shall cry out for them Heaven them need them And they rise not up again Dawn has brought the sleepers from their hard, and sleepless beds, As [deleted]# Nee [/deleted] squadrons cross the beaches in a neverending stream The sunny fields of Normandy are waking from their dreams The battle is beginning in the skies above their heads smoke clouds be their [deleted] then [indecipherable words] be their downfall and their charge [/deleted] your drone their winding sheet funeral song. [page break] 7 There has been a [inserted] silence, a gap or [/inserted] long long pause 13 In [dleted] the [/deleted] carefree, simple writing of [deleted] the [/deleted] [inserted] every [/inserted] common man 12 Time for reflection, [inserted] for [/inserted] probing for the cause 12 Of strife, of past mistakes, [deleted] and [/deleted] of how it all began 12 Times when [deleted] the shrilling [/deleted] [inserted] pillaged [/inserted] nations [inserted] in [/inserted] agony of death 12 Made [deleted] us [/deleted] [inserted] him [/inserted] apalled, [sic] but [deleted] never [/deleted] stirred [deleted] the [/deleted] [inserted] in him no [deleted] dyeing [/deleted] [/inserted] poet’s breath 12 Silent he asked himself why hate, why all the worst 13 In man should sour & fester, & bloat & finally burst 14 Why all [deleted] these little lovely [/deleted] things [inserted] of beauty [/inserted] the worthwhile things of life 14 Fell in the rumbling thunder clap of pain & bloody strife 13 Time for reflection why the bitter gall was tasted 16 Time for [deleted] self [/deleted] examination of [deleted] the [/deleted] chances man has wasted 16 … there has been a long, long pause in [deleted] the [/deleted] writing of the simple man 14 Time to [deleted] work [/deleted] think and ask and ponder on how it all began [page break] A nations agony in death never stirred the poets breath There has been a long long [sic] pause in the carefree [inserted] sample [/inserted] writings of the common man Time for reflection, probing for the cause Of past mistakes, of why it all began Why hate should be pent up, why all the worst [deleted] Should [/deleted] In man should sour & fester & bloat & finally burst. Why all the little lovely things the worthwhile things of life Fell in a rumbling thunderclap in hate & bloddy & strife There has been a long long [sic] pause in the writing of the simple man Time to ponder & think of how it all began Time for reflection while the bitter gall was tasted Time for self-examination time for - - was it wasted? [page break] [blank page] [page break] There has been a [inserted] ragged [/inserted] silence, a gap a [deleted] prolonged [/deleted] [inserted] prolonged [/inserted] pause In the carefree simple writings [deleted] that [/deleted] of every common man Time for due reflection, time for a probing for the cause Of bitter strife, of past mistakes, of how it all began Time when [deleted] the [/deleted] cries of pillaged nations in [deleted] the [/deleted] agony of death [deleted] Made him [/deleted] appalled in terror, [inserted] [indecipherable words] [/inserted] choked the poet’s breath [deleted] As Silent still [/deleted] [inserted] Shrilled loudly as [/inserted] he asked himself why all the basest [deleted] [indecipherable word], [/deleted] worst [deleted] [inserted] [indecipherable words] [/inserted] [/deleted] A world where truth will last [deleted] And [/deleted] Give us faith to face the future and [deleted] to work [/deleted] [inserted] time to [/inserted] & plan again [page break] [End of transcribed part. The rest of the document is only available as image files] Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource George Warren's Poetry Description An account of the resource A collection of poetry and prose written by George. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource George Warren Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource One book with handwritten annotations Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Poetry Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context MWarrenGC1580687-190813-02 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Civilian Royal Air Force Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Tricia Marshall aircrew