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A short time after his funeral David's mother handed me a parcel. It contained his Scout uniform and she asked me to wear it when I became big enough to do so I was then fifteen years old and far too small, but in due course, after completing my National Service and joining the Rover Crew, I was able to fit into it and thereafter wear it with pride until it disintegrated from use. I still retain one treasured part - the small sheath knife which had impressed me so much at our first meeting.
I had, year on year, paid visits to David's grave in Selby Town Cemetery. It had always struck me as wrong that there was no other formal memorial to him and I was determined to do something about it. Selby Abbey authorities had for many years, resisted any attempt by 578 Burn Association for recognition in the building of the war heroes who had flown from Burn, never to return. A fortuitous change of vicar provided the opportunity for another try in 1995 and this time met with success. My application for two wall plaques to be placed in the North Choir Aisle one to David Wilkerson, the other to Cyril Barton, the only Halifax pilot to win the Victoria Cross, was granted. A Service of Unveiling and Dedication was held in May 1996, when the congregation of 578 Squadron veterans, their families, friends, many local people and organisations, filled the great Abbey building to overflowing.' The Scouting connection with David is marked annually by the presentation of The David Wilkerson Prize for Citizenship', which comprises a copy of 'Based at Burn' awarded to the Cub judged to have 'done his best' during the year. The Selby Cubs lay flowers and hold a short service at his graveside every Remembrance Sunday. My thoughts were also on that hillside at Tedsmore, where David had died. I sought out the owner of Tedsmore Hall, who, on hearing of the tragedy for the first time, asked if there was anything she could do. I outlined my desire to mark the exact spot where David had met his death. Without hesitation she generously offered me a square yard of ground on which to erect a suitable and permanent memorial.
I decided this would be in the form of a large cross and, being in possession of a
large baulk of Australian Jarrah wood, set about making it. John Barrow, who, as
a schoolboy, visited the tragic scene of the accident the day following its
occurrence, together with Hamar Evans and other local contemporaries, helped
me to clear the undergrowth, dig the foundation and reconstruct the collapsed dry
stone retaining wall onto the adjacent lane. A local builders merchant donated a
cubic yard of concrete for the base. Despite the severe inclement weather the
work went according to plan.
Eventually, all was ready and I was able to send out invitations to the
Unveiling and Service of Dedication. I had earlier approached RAF Shawbury to
ask if some form of 'fly-over' could be arranged and to my delight, this request
was agreed with enthusiasm. Indeed, on each of the ten days which we had
laboured on site, one or more helicopters would appear and pause overhead,
seemingly to check on our progress! Our waves of greeting would be returned by
the pilot flashing his powerful headlight.
Over seventy people, twenty-four of them former serving members of 578
Squadron, braved the inclement weather to find their way to this remote location
on 3 October 1996. The officiating priest was the Rev.Owain Williams, a former
578 Squadron Flight Engineer. Representatives of the Royal Air Force and the
Scout Association also took part and a final tribute was provided, as promised, by
three Gazelle helicopters, flying in low formation and arriving exactly on time.
In my address to the assembled company, I spoke of my memories of David
and the influence he had on my life.
"This Cross is placed on the very spot where David died.
The planning and making of it has filled me with intense joy and
great sadness. Joy, in the sense that, making it, out of Australian Jarrah,
was a delight - lovely wood to work. Joy in as much that I had the
privilege of meeting local people who were able to point out and describe
exactly what happened, some of whom actually witnessed the awful
accident. Joy, in that a number of them were prepared to assist me in the
erection of the Cross about a month ago. But of course, it is with a sense
of acute sadness and loss that I contemplate that the tragedy should have
happened at all.
Somebody might well ask why should I, after fifty-two years, want to
commemorate my old friend in such a way. The answer is simple. He left
an indelible impression on me as a young boy. I was his youngest Cub.
He set examples in my immature mind which I have striven to keep
throughout my life - whether successfully or not, I'll not reveal! He
instilled into me a sense of discipline, loyalty and endeavour, self
sufficiency and religious thought. He was our guide and mentor in those
early days. They were also difficult days, running up to the War. We
were not a wealthy community and Cub meetings to us were our high
spot of the week, spent in the presence of the man we respected so much.
Hugh Cawdron speaking at the dedication of the Memorial
David loved and cared for people. This was his forte. He extended not only this wonderful feeling to us youngsters, but I gather that this gift was exercised and appreciated throughout 578 Squadron which he founded. He was quite unaffected by differences of rank, class or wealth. He considered and treated everybody as an equal. He possessed the rare quality of combining discipline and respect with firm leadership, fairness and compassion - and fun, for he was a fun person. To give you an example. This St.George's flag, which until the unveiling a moment ago covered this Cross, fell away easily, but it could have become hitched up. One of the first things David taught us as Cubs was how to fold the Union flag very carefully, wrap the halyard round it, hoist it to the beam of the church hall where we had our meetings, whereupon, the appointed Sixer would step forward, pull the correct rope so that the flag could break loose, to fly in its full glory. Seven times out of ten, this is what happened. Three times out of ten it did not. As boys, we were always waiting for the times when it didn't and had great difficulty in suppressing grins. David would look round at us as if to say 'Don't you dare' and then his face would break out into a smile and soon we were all enjoying a good laugh. He would then give another lesson in the art of flag furling, ready for next time. This was typical of the man. I am quite sure what I have been talking about is not just the sentiment of a young boy for there are other spheres and fine qualities, many of them, which members of 578 Squadron in particular, came to acknowledge under the stress of War. All at the age of 27 years. I find this incredible. A life so full of promise and so tragically ended at this place, on 16 September 1944. I shall never forget David. He was my friend and hero. The Reverend G R Vallings, a chaplain of the First World War wrote a poem, which sums up my feelings precisely.
Only a comrade is dead,
But relieved, thank God from pain,
’Ere he soared in flight far beyond our sight,
Where heroic spirits reign.
Only a pal of my own
On the road we twain have trod,
Till he passed alone through the great unknown
To show me the way to God.
Only one man, just one more
In the roll of England’s fame,
Yet his friends of yore and the cross he wore
Are honoured by this man’s name
In his moving eulogy, Jim Inward DFC, former Flight Engineer Leader of 578 Squadron, summed up the sentiments of his contemporaries. He said:
"In World War Two, the Royal Air Force fought the enemy, took the flak
and paid a price. Over 70,000 RAF and Commonwealth airmen were
killed or listed as missing. Of these, 47,268 were from Bomber Command
- not a few - all volunteers. Every member of aircrew, whether living or
dead, in my book, of whatever Command, was special. Every lan, John,
Ronald, Maurice, David, in fact, every blessed mother's son of them.
They were priceless. They were not fearless - only fools are fearless.
They suppressed and hid their fear as best they could. They trained hard,
and shared their skills to form crews whose personal loyalties evoke
echoes of Nelson's Famous Band of Brothers. They knew it was
necessary for the enemy to be beaten. For most their devotion to duty was
incredible. For most they knew only too well that short term odds were
dicey and long term ones extraordinarily remote. Survival was possibly a
ten percent chance, either as a Prisoner of War or as a crippled wreck.
An uneventful 'tour' of operations, a pipe dream.
In their company we find David Wilkerson, born in 1917 and a mere
twenty-two years old when War started. He was a bright star. He graced
4 Group as a brilliant airman. An inspirational Commander and a Team
Leader par excellence. In every sense a gentleman. Early in 1944, he was
given the task of creating 578 Squadron. In its short life, of fourteen
months, the heavy price paid by the Squadron was seventy-two lost
aircraft.' Particularly severe losses being taken in the Spring of 1944.
'Wilkie', as he affectionately known, took infinite pains to instruct
and brief his crews. His operational appreciations were brilliant. He did
his very best to nurture a spirit of technical excellence and operational
effectiveness, through it all you knew how very much he cared. A twenty-
six year old whose obvious ability and intelligence, inspired all others. A
modest but very heroic figure who led from the front. His wide
responsibilities tied in with the Operational Support Sections, the
excellent Technical Ground Staffs, the Administration Services, the
Parachute Store, the M T Section and so on.
This young man, after a raid, had the task of sending out personal
condolences and continuing correspondence with the next of kin of those
lost. His personal caring and thoughtful understanding legendary. His
burden was immense. He was a wise councillor, a true friend, a stoic in
adversity, a courageous man with wisdom beyond his years. He had an
appreciation of the significance of people and a rapport with them which
was unique. It bound them to him. He bore good will to others, but
nevertheless, had a steely grip on the need to develop and sustain the
greatest possible effectiveness. Not for nothing was his 578 known as
'The Aiming Point Squadron'.
He was 'The Boss' - but what a marvellous Boss to serve under. After
two operational 'tours', David had earned a break from stress. It was
ironic that he was not in the driving seat when he died on this spot. His
death, on 16 September 1944, seemed so unjust. His family and the world
lost a great son. Peace, a great contributor. He will always be
remembered. He earned our gratitude and affection. He made me very
proud to be an Englishman.
Wing Commander David Scott Shearman Wilkerson, we salute you!"
A TRIBUTE FROM THE CHIEF SCOUT : W G PURDY
It is evident from this wonderful story that David Wilkerson not only did his best
but he inspired everyone with whom he came in contact, young and old alike.
When David volunteered to become a Cub Master and put something back
into Scouting, he ensured that the spirit of service, hope and fun that he
personified would be passed on to future generations. I am sure he would be
pleased that to this day he continues to help young people through the David
Wilkerson Prize for Citizenship. When the Selby Cub Scouts visit his graveside
every Remembrance Sunday they demonstrate that David's spirit truly lives on.
Fifty years on, veteran members of 578 Squadron remember their Commanding Officer
.