Poem ~ Tragedy Of Victory - Saturday, 30 December 1916 - Sunday, 31 December 1916

Impression sketch for Tragedy of Victory by Jamie

To carry on dark December's trend of tragedy

Emerged the story of a Royal Navel Reserve

Stoker, Patrick Victory, S 8691. An Irishman

Born 1888, whose home lay in Dublin centre,

On Lord Edward Street.

Aged 28, Paddy Victory's base was the Royal 
Naval Barracks situated at Portsmouth's east
Harbour - on day 5 November 1916, a week
After his marriage in October, Paddy Victory 
Travelled to London.

Yet having overstayed his leave from base

In Portsmouth, Stoker Paddy Victory found

Himself in despair - this led him to a final

Decision. He sat and took pen to paper in  

Writing words to his love.

With address to his home on Lord Edward

Street Dublin, Paddy addressed his wife

By her maiden name to say, 'god forgive me.'

Repentant, Victory alluded to how his new

Wife had kept him home.

Between the lines she probably begged

Him not to leave - 'why did you not let me

Go Friday?' - newly married she likely

Feared losing him in war - 'I could have

Died happy.'

Both knew he could have lost his life

Fighting for his country - then she could

Have been safe, not to be associated

To a deserter - he had given her traitors

Name; he asked for no blame.

He told her he was bad enough - 'drink

And what I must have said in it, has done

For me' - suggested between lines was 

How Paddy regretted many words he did

Not mean, likely when drunk.

Mrs Victory's husband on route had

Gone to London - in despair he felt there

No other way out - after a 'goodbye

Forever' he extended his words in yet

Another goodbye.

He told her how at London tower

A gunshot would be fired at midnight -

His intent for the signal as his parting -

After the hour, Stoker Paddy Victory

Walked to Westminster Bridge.

Out on the darkened street he folded

The letter into his pocket, along with

A handkerchief square, that held his

Few personal items; maybe a watch

And wedding ring.

Standing half way over the bridge

Paddy heard the lapping dark waters -

With head bowed he shrugged off his

Overcoat and neatly folded this on

The ground.

Around his collar he wore a rosary.

Waiting till a few distant figures

Had gone, he climbed and dropped

Into the water with little sound,

To quietly drown.

The body of Stoker Patrick Victory was

Found some 30 days later, Wednesday

6 December - an enquiry held Friday,

8 December led by coroner Mr Ingleby

Oddie in Lambeth.

A conclusion had looked on his sensitivity

Of being seen as a deserter - having

Stayed from base longer than acceptable;

How his mind under temporary insanity,

Drove him to suicide.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1916. Suicide Of A Bridegroom. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 15 December 1916. P.13. Col.3. Available at: <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12213946/Daily-Telegraph-December-9-1916.html> [Accessed: 30 December 2016].

Anon.,1916. The Peace Proposal - An American View. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 15 December 1916. P.10. Col.6. Available at: <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12213996/Daily-Telegraph-December-15-1916.htmll> [Accessed: 30 December 2016].

Mann, J., 2016. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 30 December 2016). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/12213996/Daily-Telegraph-December-15-1916.html

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/

#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1London

Poem ~ Skipper's Cowardice? - Wednesday, 8 September 1915

Impression sketch of Naval Reserve ship's inaction - by Jamie.

As German submarines

Stalked the waters,

Of British coastline,

Came an incident to blame

A naval officer's indecision.

A shroud of dense fog

Covered the sea,

As sounds of a fight

Were heard by the crew

Of a Royal Naval Reserve ship.

Close to gunnery noise

The British vessel -

Under Ernest Alfred

Sheldon - steered to emerge

Through fog towards attack.

The Naval Reserve ship

Found a steamer

Was under fire,

From a German submarine -

Skipper Sheldon went to assist.

Pulling to the small boats,

Whose crew shouted

Back, to let them get

Clear, so as not to be open

To their boat's fire on enemy.

Skipper Sheldon withdrew

Away from survivors,

To turn about in order

To engage the submarine -

Which by then, was hidden.

The dense fog disallowed

For any engagement -

The skipper’s reason

Were not accepted as true -

To hold him in court marshal.

The charge was in the failure

To engage his ship,

In action on the enemy

Submarine - which was given

Time to make an easy escape.

The Skipper's reasoning,

Being that boats,

Full with survivors,

Drifted in waters between
them and enemy submarine.

Regardless of any reasons

Sheldon provided,

The given decision

Was guilty - The naval officer 

Being dismissed from service.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1915. Submarine's Escape - Skipper Court-Martialled. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 8 September. P.7. Col.6. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11821305/Daily-Telegraph-September-8-1915.html [Accessed: 8 September 2015].

Mann, J., 2015. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 8 September 2015). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11821305/Daily-Telegraph-September-8-1915.html

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/

#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #WW1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered #WW1RoyalNavy

Poem ~ Death in the Fog - Friday, 6 November 1914

In correction of previous

Accounts, is the report

Of a Sub–Lieutenant,

Of the Royal Naval Reserve;

Mr Petchell Burt Murray -

From Worsley Manchester,

And his unfortunate death.

In September having joined,

The Flying Corps Naval wing,

Sub - Lieutenant Murray,

Became a pupil at the Upavon

Central Flying School.

In training he had been

Seen to have remarkable

Proficiency, by limited experience.

On 5 November, this officer

Was sent up by his Instructor,

Making an early morning flight.

The weather was at first clear. 

But while flying, a dense fog

Formed - making for anxieties.

Such poor conditions would

Create a dangerous descent.

On Carlton Down, a shepherd,

Looking after his flock of sheep,

Stood within the shroud of fog.

Came the noise of an aircraft,

Within the stillness of that mist,

The eerie drone of that machine,

Surrounded the watching shepherd.

Looking about, he saw a break

In the grounded cloud - with

The swift movement of the plane -

Possibly the pilot was confused, 

Lost as where to land - the noise

Moved on. The shepherd seeing

To his flock, soon after heard,

The noise of a deathly crash.

It was some time before the mist

Dispersed revealing craft and pilot.

Lieutenant Murray was found, quite still

Strapped in the body, of the craft,

His neck had been neatly broken.

The aircraft nose was embedded,

 At a depth in the ground, leading

To the probability that he had

Been unable to regulate a descent.

The ground being hidden by fog

Upon his fall of 100 mph rate.

The verdict was accidental death.

In a tribute, the coroner valued

Such services of British Aviators.

Lieutenant Murray, in this war,

Had given his life for his country -

As if he had died in the trenches;

The Lieutenant was 20 years old.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1914. Naval Airman Killed  - Flight in a Fog. The Daily Telegraph. [online] 6 Nov. p.5. Col.5. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11208699/Daily-Telegraph-November-6-1914.html [Accessed: 6 November 2014].

Mann, J., 2014. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 6 November 2014). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11208699/Daily-Telegraph-November-6-1914.html

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/

#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered

Poem ~ Sailor's Death in Dawlish - Monday, 19 October 1914

Grave of Arthur Mould, Dawlish Cemetery, Devon

Photo courtesy of julia&keld 

http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=71216363 [Accessed: 19 October 1914]

Saturday 17 October; upon an autumn day,

That began dull along a Devon coastline.

Distant mountainous clouds on a horizon

Line, possibly suggesting later rain fall,

Yet unlikely, being driven on the light wind.

Just an ordinary October autumn day.

From their coastal home, Mother and child

Stepped out looking out to a fine account,

Ideal for a weekend walk into Dawlish town.

The day across South Devon dawned similar,

With travels of civilian people and military

Personnel, beginning their weekend day - 

Movements of the navy, resting or training,

Stirred along south coast ports, with ships

At anchor - or on alert in manoeuvres of war.

Amid Naval Reservists taking leave on land,

Was the young 23-year-old Arthur Mould.

The day was good for travel, neither hot

Nor cold – stationed at Plymouth, Navy

Barracks of HMS 'Vivid', Arthur Mould, his

Service Number 4291, had been given leave.

The plan was to travel to see his parents,

Who had moved from Derby after his birth,

In 1891, to live in Birkenhead – the surprise

Was especially planned for his young wife, M.

Larking with other mates on leave, to taunt

Those men left behind, upon the land bound

HMS 'Vivid' – Stoker, Arthur Mould, with other

Naval Reserves, made their way to the train.

The Journey would be long; taking a coastal

Line, before moving inland to his hometown.

In Dawlish, a brighter morning light promised

A fair day, as people emerged onto streets,

Trekking out to gain their weekly provisions.

Among them, the mother and girl walked

Briskly - for the purpose here, we shall call

The child Jane - her mother, Mrs Smith –

In reflection of the real story the girl’s age

Stays a mystery – perhaps 5 or as old as 9?

The train preparing to depart at Plymouth,

Packed for Saturday trips with travellers.

Some bound for local destinations, others

Further afield - possibly reaching London,

Perhaps Scotland, or even for Birkinhead;

As was the aim for Seaman Arthur Mould,

Who with mates, squeezed them aboard.

With a Lack of room, he stood by the door.

Jane and Mrs Smith walked about Dawlish

Market, buying foodstuffs from varied stalls.

Other matter's were on Jane’s mind she

Yearned to escape down to beach and sea.

Seagulls were calling - pulling her mother’s

Hand, asking for them to walk down

To the beach. At first her mother made

No response, Mrs Smith talked with traders.

Finally she met in length, with a neighbour

And friend. Jane’s persistence finally made

Her mother give in – making her promise,

To be careful, Jane might go for twenty

Minutes down to the sea, advising her

To make a route by the coastguard station

Over the railway bridge and down the steps.

To stay there until her mother collected her.

Arthur Mould stood happily upon the train,

Buffeted by mates within the small space.

They talked of jokes, stories and waiting

Women at home. Their rowdy, raised voices

Tolerated by their fellow passengers in such

Respect for Naval uniforms - Arthur Mould

In the need for air, slid open the window.

Cooler air rushed in as the sea rushed by.

Arthur thought of his waiting home and wife.

The train rolled placidly on from the south.

When the first tunnel of five opened up

The engine let out its sharp sigh of steam.

The rhythmic clatter of the rolling train held

Arthur Mould calmly, as they blinked between

Tunnels, the line carrying them onwards close

To the shore cutting thorough the Devon cliffs.

He stared out to sea, knowing where destiny

Of his life was to be taking him to fight aboard

Ship - to encounter German boats and threat

Of submarines - away from safety of training

At Devonport – this would be his last sight of

Home to see before Arthur Mould went to sea.

The rhythm of the train held him his mates, 

Still larking about him, guessing how much

They might yet drink, before return to duty

The fourth tunnel passed again the engine

Blew its sound like an excited beast and now

Again the plunge into darkness for the fifth

Time – time, almost gone - came light again

As carriages curved about rocky coastal edge

Feeling almost like the train itself, was at sea.

How the next few fateful moments happened

Remains unclear, to be always so, can only

be imagined here -  If the train, being packed,

Might have made a sinister contribution to fate.

With Arthur Mould, among the jostling, laughing

Group of fellow seamen - the train, perhaps

Not scheduled to stop, or slow down through

A Dawlish seaside town, in fate of Arthur Mould.

Somehow he fell - knocking the door handle

Or if the carriage door had not been shut

Maybe his weight was enough to cause

Door fall open – the sailor fell tumbling in air

That brushed his hat away – almost flying

With the speed of the train - the door swung

Too, maybe unnoticed of the missing fellow.

As time that coincides, Jane had reached

A place nearby the Coast Guard Station,

When she saw the man, lying on the ground.

Like her doll, he was strewn upon the track.

With any thought of sea shells gone, she

Looked about but no one else was around.

At speed she ran down - knowing that a train

Had passed, realising he must have fallen.

She saw that he wore a uniform of a sailor,

But he was not awake and saw wound upon

His head. Still no one was about - on hearing

The sound of another train’s whistle, Jane,

With no other thought, pulled on the man arm

He did not move – in fear at enlarging train

She put hands under his shoulders and heaved

With all her strength - The steaming train

Was growing large - she pulled again and again.

Jane felt him bumping off the track as metallic

Wheels skimmed by – she did not stop until

They were at the footway and she sat to take

A breath. Looking upon his closed eyes Jane

Spoke to him but he made no response – not

Knowing what else to do, she sat as he lay there,

Telling him of her growing collection of seashells.

When help came, her mother found her Jane

Nursing the injured sailor and hugged her

Bravery – this reported true story noted a girl’s

Prompt reaction – Jane, as small as she was,

Dragged Alfred Mould, out of further harm.

Sadly the severity of the injury to his head,

Meant that this navy man never recovered.

Today, Alfred remembered, still lies by the sea,

In Dawlish Cemetery, Devon Plot 668.

by Jamie Mann.

Anon.,1914. Girl's Prompt Action. The Daily Telegraph, [online] 19 Oct. p.3. Col.5. Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11165474/Daily-Telegraph-October-19-1914.html [Accessed: 19 October 2014].

Mann, J., 2014. 100 years Ago - Poems by Jamie Mann. [letter] (Personal communication, 19 October 2014). 

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/ww1-archive/11165474/Daily-Telegraph-October-19-1914.html

http://worldwaroneblogger.blogspot.co.uk/ 

#WW1 #WW1centenary #GreatWar #WW1poem #GreatWar #ww1centenary #worldwarone #worldwaroneremembered