On Wednesday 18th June 2003, a Memorial Service was held for Reg Craig and Dennis Humphries, two of the distinguished ex-airmen who saw service at Moreton in Marsh. Below are extracts from the service, together with a few pictures

Appreciations

Dennis Humphries DFC

Today we also remember Dennis Humphries; our initial meeting was the day of the Memorial Dedication in 1994, the same day Dennis was to be reunited with an old Skipper, Bill Martin. They had flown together in North Africa in 1944. Dennis was born in Bath in 1920; he won a scholarship to the City of Bath Grammar School, an achievement also shared with his brother Wilfred. At the age of 18, Dennis joined the Royal Air Force and was accepted for Aircrew Training as a Wireless Operator/ Air Gunner and joined the 75 (New Zealand) Squadron at Royal Air Force Feltwell in Norfolk, here he completed his first tour of 30 operations. The next posting was to 21 Operational Training Unit, Moreton-in-Marsh on instructional duties, whilst here, in mid 1942 he was to take part in one of the thousand bomber raids against Cologne and Essen.

In May 1943 with Paddy O’Doire (skipper) the late ‘Darkie’ Simpson Air Gunner in the Wellington rear seat and other crewmembers, they flew to North Africa and joined 142 Squadron. This was the same year both Wilfred and Dennis were to receive a commission, it was a unique occasion when also in 1943 they were both awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross and to become the only brothers in Bomber Command at that time to hold the DFC decoration.

With the rank of Flight Lieutenant, two tours and 69 missions behind him, Dennis retired from the Royal Air Force; he then joined the Bath office of Inland Revenue. Here he was to meet his wife Jean, their daughter Stephanie in the course of time married Hugh, Dennis and Jean were to become proud Grandparents with the birth of a granddaughter and 2 grandsons. Retirement than followed as a Senior Inspector of Taxes.

A great sportsman, Dennis was Captain of Bath Golf Club, with interests also in cricket and rugby. Throughout his life he held a keen interest in steam engines, in particular steam locomotives, it was, heaven help any individual who called them ‘steam trains’ this would indeed produce a rebuff ‘they were steam engines’ the train was that that the engine pulled. Sylvia and I were privileged to witness a meeting between Dennis and his one time skipper Bill Martin, to see these to old friends reunited after 50 years, suddenly the years rolled back, the hangar doors opened, and memories flowed. To witness this meeting is something both Sylvia and I will never forget.

From this first meeting Dennis became a true and much valued friend; he became a regular supporter, at our reunions for Edgehill and Moreton-in-Marsh, and last joined us at a small dinner party given for Dennis and a small umber of his friends in 2001.

On the 26th March of this year 2003, at the age of 82, Dennis sadly left us.
A devoted husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather said goodbye, a life well spent, his Final Tour complete.

Reg Craig

‘I do not profess to be a poet but when I was writing down some thoughts about Reg, it seems to be the easiest way.’

Dear Reg,

When we moved to Court House 3 years ago,
Little did we realise what a man we would come to know
For you quickly became to all of us
A grandfather, an entertainer a friend we could trust

Who would have guessed what an amazing ides
To place a chair in the inglenook- free from worry or fear
With everything at hand, books, dictionaries, typewriter and radio
With a teapot on the storage heater always on the go.

Until 10 months ago, your favourite companion, a cat named Lovely
Who would relish some pilchards in tomato sauce and jelly
Guarded you against mice or unwanted trouble
What a lovely pair- for ever eternal

By 4 on the dot waiting patiently at the door
The postman would collect your post to save you a chore
At 10 the next morning, your nurse would knock
But you were still in bed dreaming- what a shock!

Indeed you would spend half the night
Listening to the TV blazing bright
Often watching cricket matches or rugby’s groans
Sometimes falling asleep on your inglenook throne!

It is now strange for me not to buy those ‘meals for one’
Which you devoured so eagerly to be followed be a scone
And together with your bananas and Werthers sweets
You would often complain about your weight increase.

However, ‘I digress’ as you used to say
Dear Reg, what will always be kept in our minds today
Are those wonderful stories you would so eloquently tell
Over a glass of Croft Original sherry- how swell!

Your thousands of books, magazines and newspapers
Illustrating your travels, the war, village life and encounters
Were always filed in their rightful place only you knew
For if we needed an article, you always turned up trumps, didn’t you?

Above all, what Mike, Christophe, Ben and I would like to say, dear Reg,
Is that it was your uncomplaining attitude despite your very ‘wonky legs’
As well as your cherished friendship and fond love of life
That will stay with us for ever and ever, goodnight,

God bless,
Dear Reg

Marie Carty 2003

Readings from the Memorial Service

Jonathon Livingston Seagull
Richard Bach

They came in the evening and found Jonathan gliding peaceful and alone through his beloved sky. The two gulls that appeared on his wings were pure as starlight, and the glow from them was gentle and friendly in the high night air. But most lovely of all was the skill with which they flew, their wingtips moving a precise and constant inch from his own.

Without a word, Jonathan put them to his test, a test that no gull had ever passed. He twisted his wings, slowed to a single mile per hour above stall. The two radiant birds slowed with him, smoothly, locked in position, they knew about slow flying.

He folded his wings, rolled, and dropped in a dive to a hundred ninety miles per hour. They dropped with him, streaking down in flawless formation. At last he turned that speed straight up into a long vertical slow-roll. They rolled with him, smiling. He recovered to level flight and was quiet for a time before he spoke. ‘Very well’ he said, ‘who are you?’

‘We’re from your Flock, Jonathan. We are your brothers.’ The words were strong and calm.
‘We’ve come to take you higher, to take you home.’

‘Home I have none. I am an Outcast. And we fly now at the peak of the Great Mountain
Wind. Beyond a few hundred feet, I can lift this old body no higher.’ ‘But you can Jonathan. For you have learned. One school is finished, and the time has come for another to begin.’

As it had shined across him all his life, so understanding lighted that moment for Jonathan Seagull. They were right. He could fly higher, and it was time to go home. He gave one last look across the sky, across that magnificent silver land where he had learned so much.

‘I’m ready’ he said at last.
And Jonathan Livingston Seagull rose with the two star bright gulls to disappear into a perfect dark sky.

Read by Ann Selby Rickards

Flight
Brian Young

How can they know that joy to be alive
Who have not flown?
To loop and spin and roll and climb and dive,
The very sky one’s own
The urge of power while engines race,
The sting of speed,
The rude winds’ buffet on one’s face,
To live indeed.

How can they know the grandeur of the sky,
The earth below,
The restless sea, and waves that break and die
With ceaseless ebb and flow;
The morning sun on drifting clouds
And rolling downs-
And valley mist that shrouds
The chimneyed towns?

So long has puny man to earth been chained
Who now is free,
And with he conquest of the air has gained
A glorious liberty.
How splendid is this gift He gave
On high to roam,
The sun a friend, the earth a slave,
The heavens home…

Read by Gerry Tyack

L to R- Ann Selby Rickards, Mike Carty, Jon Leo, Marie Carty, Chris Leo, Andrew Gordon.