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What do I know about this lane cut in the side of the Tedsmore hill
with its west bank rising to the sky and the east side sloping down at will.
With its aged drystone boundary walls, grass and fern and full grown trees
whose canopies meet to offer shade and to dapple sunlight in the breeze?
I know that on one Sunday morn sixty five years ago today
the peace and beauty of this place was shattered by a tragedy.
An aircraft falling from the sky, smashing with relentless spin,
a screeching, fiery, metal hell with five young crewmen trapped therein.
I know that three of them survived but two, beyond all human aid
were laid to rest here on this bank. One was my friend, his journey made.
He knew the deadly risks he faced but shrugged them off with youthful smile
inspiring others to the same. Leading and caring was his style.
I made this cross to mark the place where England lost a valued knight-
a warrior with intent to win a contest ‘gainst the scourge of might.
And remind us that he gave his life to keep us safe and to restore
the freedom which we now enjoy to walk this lane for evermore.
Hugh Cawdron
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