Pictures of Eric in Blue

Cherry

By Ed Crane

Thu, 18 May 2017
  • 2683 reads
13 comments
 

A brown envelope took you

to places a far cry from football

practice on Plumstead Common’s grass.

 

Up north you learnt how to dress your

Brylcreem'd head with a side cap

and be a blue cog in the wheels of war.

 

A change from blue to dun in the deserts of Egypt

Scorpions in circles of fire; Chameleons in your tent.

Dysentery and strafed under the sun.

 

Driving convoys under the "Marble Arch"

passing swastika adorned wrecks and

broken Fiats on the road to Tripoli.

 

Scenes that made you cry locked away

in unspoken memories. Laughing off

dangers with your mates.

 

Writing poems to your Darling. Christmas

postcards with Date Palms.

Respite in the Libyan capital

 

Back in blue in the simmering shadow of Etna

North into Europe’s devastation.

Home to make Ethel your April wife

 

Christmas leave, a Virgo son is due.

Uncertain times pass. Life goes on.

Fulfilled, your ashes lay with Ethel’s. 

Certificate PG
Poetry Monthly
Biography

Comments

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Another unusual take from the poetry monthly cue. This is so interesting with so much detail dropped in, it seems to have had a source of so much of his wartime travles and experiences.

And it reminds me of a letter I started trying to precis that my father had written to his fiancee as he travelled back by ship from India at the end of WW2, having got engaged by letter during the war. He was then able to recount his different spheres of service and experience, often very humdrum, and knowing little of what was going on in other places. Rhiannon

[Brycreemed head,2nd stanza – brylcreemed?]

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

I cannot imagine what it was like for young men forced into a war to defend their country and culture, but somehow my Father got through it.

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

A brisk parade, Ed. I like the very personal details, scattered among what might be anecdotes. Conveys = convoys? I might be on the wrong track.

Parson Thru

Submitted by Ed Crane on

This was based on the stories and photos my dad brought home. The pictures always fascinated my brother and I.

He was such a gentle and normal guy, we found it strange he did all those things. Yes he drive big old truck across the desert, his outfit gave air support following the the progress of Monty's army.

 

Submitted by Ewan on

very good stuff. It just has an authenticity about it which is quite moving.

best

Ewan

Author Page at the 'Zon
 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

Dad brought back a heap of photos taken I assume by the squadron photographer. Most were taken between 1942-43 in North Africa. They were always a source of fascination for my brother and I.

I could have put up a picture of Dad  at 21 years old in his new RAF uniform, but somehow the Christmas card said something special.

After D-day I think he was reposted and spent a couple of years in northern Europe. I don't think they were such an adventure as the Desert. He never said much about it, but I am pretty sure he saw some awful things.

He was just an LAC doing his duty and as soon as it was all over all he wanted to do was lead an ordinary life looking after us. Which he succeeded at.

Thanks for the Cherries.

 

Submitted by luigi_pagano on

An interesting and apposite interpretation of the 'blue' theme, Ed. Although I was ten years of age when that war ended I am familiar with a lot of it.

Regards, Luigi.

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

You surprise me I thought you were much younger! 

I can imagine you would remember those years and they'd be hard to forget. I have pretty strong memories of my first ten years and I grew up in far less traumatic times.

 

Submitted by Philip Sidney on

An evocative piece of modern history,

Submitted by Ed Crane on

Mizz Sydney wink 

Interesting you call it modern history .... a good choice of words to honour my dad and all those who did their bit.

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

 

 

Submitted by celticman on

spin on a life cycle. That brown envelope could have taken him anywhere, but we all end up ashes. 

 

Submitted by Ed Crane on

Thanks for reading.

My Dad was a good bloke