The forgotten heroes of 7/7

Every July, news items and tweets appear around the seventh day of the month, usually referring to the 7/7 London Tube bombings of 2005 in which 52 civilians were killed. However, there was a prior 7/7 event which few people know about.

July 7 1940, Penhale Army Camp, Perranporth, Cornwall. It was a sunny, Sunday afternoon.

Only a few memories are left; army documents and old letters. In all, 22 dead, among the first military personnel of WW2 to be killed on British soil.

Death notices appeared in local newspapers mourning the loss of the Penhale 22 but no details were given about how or where they died, just that they were killed as a result of ‘enemy action, somewhere in England’.

My Grandfather, Private Stanley Tyrer of the Royal Army Ordinance Corps was a driver. After 90 days training, he had disembarked from Southampton on March 19, arriving in France the next day to start his service as ‘batman’ - or soldier-servant - to a senior officer. Stanley, only 23, was privileged:

Batman was usually seen as a desirable position. In WW2 only senior officers of the Army and Royal Air Force were officially assigned their own batmen. The soldier was exempted from more onerous duties and often got better rations and other favours from his officer. Senior officers’ batmen usually received fast promotion to lance-corporal rank, with many becoming corporals and even sergeants. The position was generally phased out after the war. Officers of the Household Division still have orderlies. (Link).


In a letter to my Grandmother sent just before disembarkation to France, Stanley wrote.

I have got a lovely job dear and please do not be afraid for I will come back to you. My job is a batman to an officer and to drive him about. So… I shall soon be alright for I have to look after him. It came as a great shock today when he told me but there it is.

He is a very nice officer too. I have to clean his buttons and boots every day and look after the car. I have to drive him about too so I shall have enough work to do without fighting.


Other letters speak of his escape from Dunkirk; going without food for 48 hours, sleeping in barns and under bridges before finding the docks and passage back to Harwich.

Before being transferred to Penhale, my Grandfather had been sent to Chisledon Camp near Swindon which was used as a collection point for men returning from the evacuation of Dunkirk. There is very little information about why he was sent to Penhale and what he was doing there.

On that gloriously sunny afternoon in July, 1940, there was apparently a poker match going on in the mess. It was Stanley’s 200th day of service. The men had no time to hear the engines of the low-flying Luftwaffe bomber’s engines as it released four bombs, three exploding immediately, killing 19 men on the spot. Three others died from their wounds within the next two or three days.

At least one next of kin wasn’t informed in enough time to request the body of their loved one to be sent home. In fact, the 19 men who were killed at the camp were all buried in the churchyard at the local Norman parish church of Perranzabuloe, St Piran’s, within just four days on July 11.

The news was hushed up for reasons of safeguarding national morale. There were no photos, no radio reports, no national news stories, no statement by the War Office. Today, this would be unthinkable and entirely impossible. 

A week after the attack, a secret meeting took place in Whitehall and special intelligence Auxiliary Units were set up by Churchill’s War Cabinet to counter the threat of a Nazi invasion, including at Cligga Head, close to Penhale Camp:

Churchill’s secret army operated in small, localised cells and recruited members to carry out guerrilla resistance measures in the event of a Nazi invasion of Britain.

There were approximately 250 men from Cornwall drafted in to the unit as the Cornish coast was considered a prime location for Hitler’s troops to launch an attack.

The Battle of Britain started on July 10 and King George signed the charter for the newly formed Intelligence Corps on July 15.

But what was my grandfather doing at Penhale? In one of his letters from France, he speaks of starting classes to learn ____. What ever it was he was learning had to be blanked for censorship reasons.

Who was the senior officer of the British Expeditionary Forces my grandfather had been assigned to and for what special reasons had he been chosen?

His death notices tells us that he was a regional snooker and billiards champion. He also played football. My Grandmother never really spoke to us about Stanley, although over the years she and the rest of our family have made regular visits to his graveside in Perranzabuloe.

The town of Perranporth held its annual Perranporth Veterans’ Day until 2010, 70th anniversary of the bombing. The Penhale 22 were honoured every year, but most of the relatives remained unaware of the ceremony until recently. It was thanks to a survivor’s son, Stuart Gray, that most of the relatives were able to attend the final reunion organised in 2010.

Penhale Camp was sold off by the last Labour government and is now in the process of being turned into some kind of semi-residential development project linked to local conservation area policy. In anticipation of the camp memorial being completely removed, a new plaque with the victims’ names has now been erected at St Piran’s church. 

Have the names of my grandfather and his dead comrades been read out in the House of Commons by any British government since 1945? Has their sacrifice ever been officially recognised? Is The Sun newspaper going to start a petition calling for a permanent monument to the Penhale22 at the site of the bombing?

Despite the memory of victims seemingly having been brushed under the carpet somewhat by the authorities, relatives and the people of Perranporth gathered together last Saturday in a special remembrance service for the Penhale22 and pay their respects to the newly raised plaque. It was ITV West Country’s leading story on Saturday evening - thanks to the football not going into extra time. 

The news clip includes interviews with both my parents.

Earlier today, there were reports that the 7/7 London bombing monument has been vandalised. Yet there were no reports about the Penhale Camp memorial which seems doomed to be removed from the camp: a site where 22 men lost their lives in an event which no doubt swayed Churchill’s decisions regards the British Resistance Movement and the introduction of British military Intelligence Corps.

On 7/7 the Penhale 22 should also be remembered.

image


The European War Graves Commission recently provided a grant for improvements of the Penhale19 war graves at St Piran’s, Perranzabuloe.



 






99percenters:

Amanda Miller and Jerad Miller are dead. They were not killed by police, but apparently, if reports are true, died in a kind of suicide pack. But, before they died..they murdered two police officers, and some poor woman in Wal-Mart.

But, it seems their life before that is a bit sketchy, and…

(Continued from my earlier post).

Asides Shitrit, YadbYadUK ‘staff’ are @Sheryl2311, a former Ann Summers saleswoman, @nilstar1 former porn star and @simoncobbs, perpetually angry ex-con. Sheryl bitterly complains on behalf of her mistress, subtweeting about how a ‘Jewish org is being harassed by Jew-haters’.

In one sole week in February, there was a collection of 50 subtweets from Sheryl about me which she seems to believe provide evidence of my harassment of her and Shitrit’s organisation. She feels it’s fine to subtweet but hates it when subjects of her subtweets reply. She then demands - in another subtweet - that those she’s subtweeting about should stop tweeting about her. 

Sheryl seems void of any sense of irony. She blindly executes Shitrit’s wishes, namely to try by any means to undermine the good work of Tell MAMA - now a NPO which was initially set up with the help of UK government funding to help fight anti-Muslim hate. Shitrit wants to see more anti-Muslim hate and would like to see Tell MAMA fold as is explained in Tell MAMA’s blog.

Tell Mama is quite clear on this subject: the blog shall remain as long as the Internet exists. All the evidence I have collected over the past months has been blogged and Storified and can be backed up by events going back to 2011. 

Cool place to work: Entertainment Haus, Hamburg.

There are countless rehearsal rooms and studios, make-up and costume-fitting areas; long corridors decorated with brightly coloured linoleum - I love the smell of linseed oil and, with lino, there are no annoying heel-clicks.

Very excited about my styling and fitting session next week. I wonder what the chief stylist has in store for me? The best is not having to decide what to wear.

In two weeks, all being well, we’ll be sailing out of Hamburg port with pomp and even fireworks in honour of the Hafengeburtstag 2014. But before then, I still need to practise…

"Perfekt!" exclaimed Willi, course leader at AFZ Rostock. I had managed to extinguish the fire he’d deliberately started after pouring petrol into a metal box. Dressed in fireman’s protective clothing, our group was given instructions on how to fight a blaze with foam, powder, CO2 extinguishers and - in this case - a fire blanket.

The fun didn’t stop there, oh no. Four days of intensive safety and security training including a dip in the harbour, wearing a cold water immersion suit and using an evacuation chute. The course is designed for sea-faring service crew with four theory tests and various practical exercises. 


Starting at 8am and running till 6pm with just an hour for lunch, it was pretty intensive. The course was in German, with multiple choice tests in English which everyone passed with flying colours. I got to know a few of my colleagues a bit better and although it was pretty exhausting, my German is refreshed and all in all it was very informative and enjoyable.

At first convinced it was a joke, I was dreading the harbour swim. Flashing my Rescue Swimmer and CPR certificates, I tried my hardest to be exempted, but in the end I was glad I wasn’t: the weather was glorious yesterday - the other groups weren’t so lucky. Our huge immersion suits meant that we could keep clothes on and - if desired - shoes, too. The suits were warm, watertight and the attached life jacket acted like a pillow, meaning we could just lie back and float around in total bliss.

The various exercises included a swimming in a collective line - on our backs with legs wide open, clinching the next swimmer between our thighs (far less sensual that suggested owing to immense thickness of the neoprene plus a layer of clothing underneath); forming a survival ‘waffle’ - head to toe with arms positioned over the next swimmers’ legs; climbing on to a life raft and then jumping into the water from the quay: it was low tide, so at least 2m50. Great fun - I could’ve floated around all day.

The evacuation chute was also an adrenaline rush, and besides all this, I also got to pilot a fast rescue boat (saving a ‘person over board’ in the shape of a life ring) and watch my team mates set off flares.

In the evenings, my ritual included a walk through the nearby allotments (see photo): “richtig in Ordnung” with blossoming trees, tulips and neatly sowed beds. 

Now safely back in Hamburg with five certificates under my belt and ready to return to the keyboard tomorrow morning.

After arriving in Rostock, I checked into my hotel and then went back to the S-Bahn station because I wanted to head north to Warnemünde and the Baltic.

A trip to the beach means crossing the Unterwarnow estuary by ferry. This cargo ship was being pulled by a tug on its way to Rostock.

image

A stiff wind was blowing - not ideal beach weather, and where are the high dunes? The nearby spa resort - seemingly full of little old ladies with dogs - offers these quaint canopies. No takers today:


image

The ferry back was more entertaining, with another large vessel - this time a car ferry, perhaps from Denmark:

image

A last look back at the Hohe Düne spa resort:

image

image

A ray of sunshine - captured with my brand-spanking new Lenovo Yoga 13” returnable laptop/tablet - on the way to Rostock with Deutsche Bahn. Fun to use, the tablet is also great for reading all the scores I have to learn, rather than lugging six kilos of paper around.

Today I drank my first beer in a week. Unlike Hawaii, Hamburg is a mecca for beer, but I began my sixth decade on this Earth as I intend to go on: everything in moderation and only as often as necessary.Each morning, I take the U-Bahn to St Pauli where I alight and head down the Reeperbahn under the watchful gaze of Bismarck towering above the tags and blossoming trees. Today, I just managed to avoid a nasty patch of vomit on the pavement: another poor victim of a hard day’s night in this, the seediest part of the city.
Otherwise, it’s a joy. The public transport system is faultless: cheap, functional, dependable and no awkward barriers. Trust is key. In two weeks, there have been no encounters with security agents checking for valid tickets. Of course, I have my prepaid Fahrkarte.As well as enjoying a beer, I’ve been shopping. After a fairly long period of inactivity and waiting for the right job, I’ve been wearing the same clothes and shoes for what seems an eternity. Here too, the shops seem to function far more on trust than in the UK: no limit to how many items in the changing rooms and no assistant handing out large plastic tags. Just up the road from my lodgings is Wandsbek Markt. There’s a huge mall with everything you could wish for - or maybe not. And around the corner there is perhaps the finest second-hand shop in the EU. Tomorrow, I’m going to Rostock to see the high dunes and, more importantly, to attend a sea-farers safety course.  Today I drank my first beer in a week. Unlike Hawaii, Hamburg is a mecca for beer, but I began my sixth decade on this Earth as I intend to go on: everything in moderation and only as often as necessary.Each morning, I take the U-Bahn to St Pauli where I alight and head down the Reeperbahn under the watchful gaze of Bismarck towering above the tags and blossoming trees. Today, I just managed to avoid a nasty patch of vomit on the pavement: another poor victim of a hard day’s night in this, the seediest part of the city.
Otherwise, it’s a joy. The public transport system is faultless: cheap, functional, dependable and no awkward barriers. Trust is key. In two weeks, there have been no encounters with security agents checking for valid tickets. Of course, I have my prepaid Fahrkarte.As well as enjoying a beer, I’ve been shopping. After a fairly long period of inactivity and waiting for the right job, I’ve been wearing the same clothes and shoes for what seems an eternity. Here too, the shops seem to function far more on trust than in the UK: no limit to how many items in the changing rooms and no assistant handing out large plastic tags. Just up the road from my lodgings is Wandsbek Markt. There’s a huge mall with everything you could wish for - or maybe not. And around the corner there is perhaps the finest second-hand shop in the EU. Tomorrow, I’m going to Rostock to see the high dunes and, more importantly, to attend a sea-farers safety course. 

Today I drank my first beer in a week. Unlike Hawaii, Hamburg is a mecca for beer, but I began my sixth decade on this Earth as I intend to go on: everything in moderation and only as often as necessary.

Each morning, I take the U-Bahn to St Pauli where I alight and head down the Reeperbahn under the watchful gaze of Bismarck towering above the tags and blossoming trees. Today, I just managed to avoid a nasty patch of vomit on the pavement: another poor victim of a hard day’s night in this, the seediest part of the city.


Otherwise, it’s a joy. The public transport system is faultless: cheap, functional, dependable and no awkward barriers. Trust is key. In two weeks, there have been no encounters with security agents checking for valid tickets. Of course, I have my prepaid Fahrkarte.

As well as enjoying a beer, I’ve been shopping. After a fairly long period of inactivity and waiting for the right job, I’ve been wearing the same clothes and shoes for what seems an eternity. Here too, the shops seem to function far more on trust than in the UK: no limit to how many items in the changing rooms and no assistant handing out large plastic tags. 

Just up the road from my lodgings is Wandsbek Markt. There’s a huge mall with everything you could wish for - or maybe not. And around the corner there is perhaps the finest second-hand shop in the EU. 

Tomorrow, I’m going to Rostock to see the high dunes and, more importantly, to attend a sea-farers safety course. 

Hamburg. When I checked in, the woman at the desk told me the flight had a 30 minute delay. However a miracle occurred: our plane took off at 2pm on the dot and we landed ten minutes ahead of schedule. Then, one of the longest queues for passport control I’ve seen for ages, not unlike Sharm El Sheikh airport in the days before the Arab Spring when tourism in the Red Sea resort was booming. Finally, after taking one S-Bahn and two U-Bahn trains, I managed to get to my hotel with 15 minutes to spare. The receptionist kindly carried my suitcase to the third floor and I arrived for my interview just in time.  * Although the sun was shining earlier in the day, there is a cold wind. The DOM carnival fun fair is set up just behind the Reeperbahn – it puts Blackpool to shame. As for wattage output – think mini Vegas, with added Currywurst and the largest Küchen in the world.  Along the Reeperbahn - although sadly I missed the Beatles - I’m grateful to have been exposed to the teachings of Islam regards diverting one’s gaze. The only other women are with boyfriends, together in groups or else hookers. I feel sorry for these girls standing in the cold.  My diverted gaze is by far the best approach for avoiding any harassment. Only one man standing outside some seedy joint briefly tries to grab my attention; I walk on unperturbed, except for the fact that the man is dark-skinned: Iraqi? Muslim? I don’t know. But I do know that I have the right not to be harassed and I feel sure that the men touting for business know it, too. This is the EU. Tomorrow, I’m going to visit an old friend in Hildesheim who has a piano. I have four days to learn Es gibt kein Bier auf Hawaii. Prost! Hamburg. When I checked in, the woman at the desk told me the flight had a 30 minute delay. However a miracle occurred: our plane took off at 2pm on the dot and we landed ten minutes ahead of schedule. Then, one of the longest queues for passport control I’ve seen for ages, not unlike Sharm El Sheikh airport in the days before the Arab Spring when tourism in the Red Sea resort was booming. Finally, after taking one S-Bahn and two U-Bahn trains, I managed to get to my hotel with 15 minutes to spare. The receptionist kindly carried my suitcase to the third floor and I arrived for my interview just in time.  * Although the sun was shining earlier in the day, there is a cold wind. The DOM carnival fun fair is set up just behind the Reeperbahn – it puts Blackpool to shame. As for wattage output – think mini Vegas, with added Currywurst and the largest Küchen in the world.  Along the Reeperbahn - although sadly I missed the Beatles - I’m grateful to have been exposed to the teachings of Islam regards diverting one’s gaze. The only other women are with boyfriends, together in groups or else hookers. I feel sorry for these girls standing in the cold.  My diverted gaze is by far the best approach for avoiding any harassment. Only one man standing outside some seedy joint briefly tries to grab my attention; I walk on unperturbed, except for the fact that the man is dark-skinned: Iraqi? Muslim? I don’t know. But I do know that I have the right not to be harassed and I feel sure that the men touting for business know it, too. This is the EU. Tomorrow, I’m going to visit an old friend in Hildesheim who has a piano. I have four days to learn Es gibt kein Bier auf Hawaii. Prost!

Hamburg. When I checked in, the woman at the desk told me the flight had a 30 minute delay. However a miracle occurred: our plane took off at 2pm on the dot and we landed ten minutes ahead of schedule. Then, one of the longest queues for passport control I’ve seen for ages, not unlike Sharm El Sheikh airport in the days before the Arab Spring when tourism in the Red Sea resort was booming.

Finally, after taking one S-Bahn and two U-Bahn trains, I managed to get to my hotel with 15 minutes to spare. The receptionist kindly carried my suitcase to the third floor and I arrived for my interview just in time.

*

Although the sun was shining earlier in the day, there is a cold wind. The DOM carnival fun fair is set up just behind the Reeperbahn – it puts Blackpool to shame. As for wattage output – think mini Vegas, with added Currywurst and the largest Küchen in the world.

Along the Reeperbahn - although sadly I missed the Beatles - I’m grateful to have been exposed to the teachings of Islam regards diverting one’s gaze. The only other women are with boyfriends, together in groups or else hookers. I feel sorry for these girls standing in the cold.

My diverted gaze is by far the best approach for avoiding any harassment. Only one man standing outside some seedy joint briefly tries to grab my attention; I walk on unperturbed, except for the fact that the man is dark-skinned: Iraqi? Muslim? I don’t know. But I do know that I have the right not to be harassed and I feel sure that the men touting for business know it, too. This is the EU.

Tomorrow, I’m going to visit an old friend in Hildesheim who has a piano. I have four days to learn Es gibt kein Bier auf Hawaii. Prost!


What a surprise: Shitrit trolling again…

Dahab dogs Dahab dogs Dahab dogs Dahab dogs Dahab dogs Dahab dogs Dahab dogs
Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors.  Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors. 

Perfect weather for hill walking over the past few days. Rather muddy in places, but clear blue, cloudless skies are rare in these parts: difficult to stay indoors. 

#Manchester #LeftBank #ManchesterCivilJusticCentre #PeoplesHistoryMuseum #BeneathItsFolds with @QuietLoner and @Longfellapoet #Manchester #LeftBank #ManchesterCivilJusticCentre #PeoplesHistoryMuseum #BeneathItsFolds with @QuietLoner and @Longfellapoet #Manchester #LeftBank #ManchesterCivilJusticCentre #PeoplesHistoryMuseum #BeneathItsFolds with @QuietLoner and @Longfellapoet #Manchester #LeftBank #ManchesterCivilJusticCentre #PeoplesHistoryMuseum #BeneathItsFolds with @QuietLoner and @Longfellapoet #Manchester #LeftBank #ManchesterCivilJusticCentre #PeoplesHistoryMuseum #BeneathItsFolds with @QuietLoner and @Longfellapoet #Manchester #LeftBank #ManchesterCivilJusticCentre #PeoplesHistoryMuseum #BeneathItsFolds with @QuietLoner and @Longfellapoet

#Manchester #LeftBank #ManchesterCivilJusticCentre #PeoplesHistoryMuseum #BeneathItsFolds with @QuietLoner and @Longfellapoet