Just as we got off the
motorway (freeway) at the exit for Bury St Edmonds we were met by
some of the 447th GB (the 447th's "Great Britain" supporters) organization driving a convoy of
restored US military vehicles. They drove us through the little towns
and microscopic country roads to the field, Richard showing his skill
with the 7 speed standard transmission coach once again. We got to
Rattlesden airfield but were let off only to take a quick toilet break then back on the bus to drive a couple
hundred yards to another part of the airfield where the 447th GB had
a mini- museum and a slide show for us.
The dominant sentiment over the weekend was good bonhommie and
sincere gratitude all around; among the Brits for the US literally
saving their country from Nazi domination, and among the US vets for
the Brits having been so gracious, generous and supportive during the
War (and during these biennial reunions since the 1980's), without
whom the US would not have been able to do what they did. Genuine
affection was expressed between the parties, well deserved honors
exchanged between the Brits and the Yanks. The 447th GB people did
many very generous things for the vets, completely unasked and
refusing any reward.
The slide show was essentially a roll call of all
the ships (the planes) and crews of the 447th Bomb Group that were
known to the 447th GB people. The crew of each ship was listed, its
history given and any pictures available were displayed. Several
times a vet would see his or a buddy's ship or crew displayed and
stand up to recount some story about it. Daddy argued gently,
briefly, with Russ Chase about some technical point of a ship in the
squadron; it was poignant to see these old men trying to get their
memories in agreement. The show paused til they were done, then
continued. Except for those unscripted additions, the only sounds
heard during the show were the nervous stumbling monotone of the
farmer- announcer and the clicking of the slide projector.
Back on the bus to go to a community museum,
full of WWII Lend Lease tractors that had been cared for so well they'd won 2nd
place in a county fair somewhere just a few years ago; a collection of all the handtools
left by the area's last basket weaver when he died in 1985, and
newspaper clippings of the area's activities since the 1800's. We
were channelled through a gift shop both entering and leaving the
museum, so I bought a card and some nice English lavender soap for
Daryle, then stood outside and wrote in the card till everybody was
done.
Back to Rattlesden airfield! The glider club that had
taken over the field after the RAF finally returned the property to
the farmers in the '60's, had a cookout getting ready for us and free
glider rides for anybody who wanted one. Daddy expressed interest so
I lined up a ride, but the tour organizer said we had to wait til a
"surprise" arrived. We stood around for 1/2 hr, then low
over the horizon a rumbling dot appeared. Many of the old vets' heads
snapped around to face the sound and minutes later the rest of us
could see a large plane approaching. It was a B-17 that belonged to a
nearby air museum... the owner had consented to have it fly past this
field for these vets on its way back from an airshow. The ship roared
low overhead, smoke streaming from one engine (just for show!),
turning as soon as it could for another pass, then another [click to see it here NB: it's low resolution mobile video!]. Five
times it rumbled over. Tears sprang from some vets' eyes, other vets
just started talking and couldn't stop.
After that, Daddy took his little 10 minute "plane ride", which turned into a 45 minute flight with the pilot flying to
Ipswitch and Daddy flying back!
A couple hours or so later
during the cookout, whispered word went through the crowd that
another "surpise" was on its way. Another surprise? People
watched the sky between swills of beer and bites of sausage. Abruptly
a P-51 Mustang dropped out of the sun and flashed overhead- those
things are FAST! I could barely even keep it in the camera viewfinder! [See here ] He turned, buzzed us 3 times and disappeared. Cheers
all around for the plane many bomber crews had called 'Little Friend'
for protecting them in the skies over Germany.
Jeeze, what a
day! Daddy was close to exhausted but I was wound up so after we got
back to the Gonville he went to crash and I went to look at Cambridge
on my own. I went back to the Eagle for a couple beers and talked
with some of the vets from our group who I found there, then left and
just walked around Cambridge taking pictures.
I asked every employee of every booze- type establishment I could find for
barleywine but no joy: I got referred up and down the streets of the
old part of town but no off license stores (stores whose liquor
license permitted taking it off premises) carried it. I had a couple
interesting conversations with 2 of the only 4 actual street people I saw
in the city, ate supper in a Thai restaurant (pretty good flavor but
bland) and headed back to the hotel.
Except that I missed my
turn and spent the next three hours wandering round and round in
circles in the residential and industrial part of Cambridge. One piece of property was even for sale!
The housing I saw
was mostly nice older duplexes but since there are regulations of
building styles that can be used, and the town is many hundreds of
years old, who knows what era they were from. Streets upon
streets lined with rows of box- like duplexes, each with its postage
stamp front yard, none bigger than
20' x 20' with a waist high wall around it. Only 2 couples on the
street at that time of night
(1230am, or 0030 hrs) and none of them spoke English. I feared I
might never meet another person until daybreak so with the second
couple I used the universal sign of unfolding my city map. The man
responded with unfolding his own map... to the panel showing the part
of town beyond the edge of my map. Sigh. It was only another hour
walk back to the hotel, but at least I knew where I was going. And I
slept well that night.