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Newport's War Dead

formerly Newport, Monmouthshire, UK

 

Verse's and Quotation's

 

Newport's Roll of Honour

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To Wear a Poppy

When we buy a poppy approaching Remembrance Day

There's a method we should sport it - in a special way

Don't show it off too early - as politicians do

Or have it on your right side - that is quite wrong too

 

Place it on your left side so others will not mock

Make sure the leaf with it - is eleven of the clock

I reckon it's noteworthy to pin it on correct

When donning this fine emblem, expressing your respect

 

Of course its not compulsory but that's the way I see

One reason why you're wearing it - is because we are free

Capt. Joe Earl

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 A poem written by the the father of Sgt. Ernest Hildred Rogers, Observer RAF, Killed in Action on 10th July 1941.

 

A poem dedicated to the beautiful memory of my son Ernest


Gone? Great God! It can't be so.
He seems so close, we saw him but a little time ago
His features are so vivid and his memory so clear
His personality clings, to every object near
Was that " Good bye" forever? No, there must be some mistake
Must a person go on living, when his heart begins to break?
But we shall always see him, in familiar things we touch
Whilst we live, his deeds will live, because we loved so much
And we shall go on smiling, he would hate to see our tears
And forever keep our thoughts of him, through all our future years
And when Gods great call is sounded, for those that paid the price
Who is there amongst us all, will regret the sacrifice?
And at the great reunion of mothers, daughters, sons and sweethearts too
Who will be more proud than me to say, "We're proud of you"


Dad

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Sir Winston Churchill, House of Commons, 20th August 1940

"The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen, who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of world war by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. All hearts go out to the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day; but we must never forget that all the time, night after night, month after month, our bomber squadrons travel far into Germany, find their targets in the darkness by the highest navigational skill, aim their attacks, often under the heaviest fire, often with serious loss, with deliberate careful discrimination, and inflict shattering blows upon the whole of the technical and war-making structure of the Nazi power. On no part of the Royal Air Force does the weight of the war fall more heavily than on the daylight bombers, who will play an invaluable part in the case of invasion and whose unflinching zeal it has been necessary in the meanwhile on numerous occasions to restrain. "

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Marshall of the Royal Air force, Sir Arthur Harris

C-in-C Bomber Command 1942 - 1945

"There is no parallel in warfare to such courage and determination in the face of danger over so long a period... It was furthermore, the courage of the small hours, of men virtually alone, for at his battle station the airman is virtually alone. Such devotion to duty must never be forgotten.

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Requiem for a Rear Gunner

(and all other casualties)

My brief sweet life is over, my eyes no longer see,
No summer walks - no Christmas Trees - no pretty girls for me,
I've got the chop, I've had it, my nightly ops are done
Yet in another hundred years, I'll still be twenty-one

by R W Gilbert

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No Roses

There are no roses on sailors graves,
Nor wreaths upon the storm tossed waves,
No last post from the Royals band,
So far away from their native land,
No heartbroken words carved on stone,
Just shipmates bodies there alone,
The only tributes are the seagulls sweeps,
And the teardrop when a loved one weeps.

Quoted from:
Royal National Lifeboat Institution

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Red Duster

Take a little care this day and glance above the tiles,
Perchance to see a flagpole visible for miles,
Atop of it a red flag proudly whipping tight,
A Merchant Navy ensign flying there by right.

From important buildings as well as from the sea.
It's flown to honour mariners and shipping history,
Sailing through the years, transporting all the freight,
Conserving of the lifelines keeping Britain great.

If you glance aloft and see with knowing eye,
A `duster` at the masthead when you're passing by,
Please inform your offspring while going on to say,
A debt is owed to seamen under colours flown today.

Joe Earl

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Rupert Brooke, 1914

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field That is forever England.

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Horatio Nelson, 1805
 

England expects that every man will do his duty.

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The Mariners of England

"The Mercantile Marine is the hope of
Old England, the buttress and pride of the nation.
But their lot is a living damnation,
Their bodies are cheaper than clay
In the pit of Perdition they;re moaning
(Relentless Jehovah, how long)
Compared with the sound of their groaning
The cry of the damned is a song
Of praise--
A glad and exuberant song!

Ashore they are outcast and hated.
They starve and they suffer at sea;
For their calling's ill famed and ill-fated
Whatever the theories be.
We call 'em pet names in our speeches,
But we cuff and we kick em in fact;
We live on their labour like leeches,
And we give' em, beween times, a tract!
O Lord,
We pay off our debt with a tract!

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HERO'S


Don't speak to me of heroes until you've heard the tale
Of Britain's merchant seamen who sailed through storm and gale
To keep those lifelines open in our nation's hour of need
When a tyrant cast a shadow across our island breed
Captains,greasers,cabin boys, mates and engineers
Heard the call to duty and cast aside their fears
They stoked those hungry boilers and stood behind the wheel

While cooks and stewards manned the guns on coffins made of steel
They moved in icy convoys from Scapa to Murmansk
And crossed the Western Ocean, never seeking thanks
They sailed the South Atlantic where raiders lay in wait
And kept the food lines open from Malta to the Cape
Tracked by silent U-boats which hunted from below
Shelled by mighty cannons and fighters flying low


They clung to burning lifeboats where the sea had turned to flame
I speak not of a handful but 30,000 plus, some whose names we'll never know in
whom we placed our trust
They never knew the honour of medals on their chests Or marching bands and victory and
glory and the rest
The ocean is their resting place, their tombstone is the wind, The seabird's cry their last goodbye to family and friend
Freighters, troopships, liners and  tankers by the score, Fishing boats and coasters, 2,000 ships and more
Flew the proud Red Duster as they sank beneath the waves And took those countless heroes to  lonely ocean graves
Their legacy is freedom to those who hold it dear, To walk with clear horizons and never hide in fear
So when you speak of heroes, remember those at sea from Britain's Merchant Navy who died to keep us free

David Partridge, Botrany Bay, Australia
and shipmate George Hickman, Braunton, Devon

 

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Shaun McGuire 2008