The Xmas Menu of 1944
In WWII, I was a Prisoner of War in Stalag 4B. By the time Xmas of 1944 rolled around, we had saved a lot of food up. I penned this menu, and boy, it really was a feast and a half! Had we an inkling that this would be the last good food that would come in, and we would go hungry, we never would have eaten like this. You can read about the terrible months that followed in the story by Doug Hawkes: A Food Saving Decision
Bomber Command Tribute
This poem was written as a tribute to the men who did not return from Bomber Command. It was written by A.C. Easton, SAAF, of Stalag 4B. His nickname was Ace.
Bomber Command - A tribute to the men who did not return
Then outward bound they set, these beings of a new born age,
To write fresh deeds of valour, with crystal pen on history's deathless page.
In silver galleons they set out- Strange Ships and wondrous men were these
Who plumbed the unknown starlit depths of god's celestral seas.
True sons whose ancestors in bygone days vaquished the Spaniard and his seaborne might,
Young England's skyborne fleets set sail, Armada of a cloudless night.
The winking stars in wonder watch, as thro' cloud and moonlit haze,
Each silver ship sails gracefully by, past phantom capes and star-filled bays.
The Captain and the crew of each, imbued with but one single thought,
Their England Ne'er shall feel those chains, which alien hands have wrought,
Tho' well knowing as their gallant ships ,the temptest fury brave,
The harbour which perchance they'll find lies 'yond the silent grave.
The navy of the skies sail on, their decks awash with cloud,
Swift Galleons of celestial seas of whom we're justly proud.
Stern guardians of our Empire's heart patrolling high above,
Determined that no harm shall befall those whom they dearly love.
How proudly do they sail, these ships, out o'er the azure blue
Well knowing that though many sail, those who return are few.
We need no day, we earthbound folk, no hour set aside
In which to turn our thoughts to them, and those of them who died,
No cenotaph need we erect to assist us to recall
How many of these silver ships with gallant crews did fall
Their memory shall be ever green, borne on the evening breeze,
Which murmurs softly o'er the world-
"Strange Ships and Wondrous Men Were these".