An American who flew for Britain in WW11

Derek Andrews

"Under the Wire" is an excellent wartime memoir of a Spitfire pilot, legendary escaper and "cooler king" before Steve McQueen earned the sobriquet in the film "The Great Escape".

William Ash from Dallas TX was one of a relatively rare breed, an American who fought in World War Two before the United States became involved following the day that would live in infamy.

But here's the thing. Later there would be many Americans who flew for the Royal Air Force in their Eagle Squadron and a special arrangement was made with the U.S. government that their U.S. Citizenship would not be revoked because of their unusual entry-mode to the conflict.

But pre December 7th 1941, an American needed to go to Canada to "sign up" with us Brits and in "taking the King's shilling" his U.S. Citizenship would be taken from him, effectively making him a stateless person !

William Ash was shot down over France in 1942, survived, evaded capture for months thanks to the help of ordinary French men and women who would have been shot by the Nazis if they were caught. (Note to Americans who were critical of France and its lack of enthusiasm for a Middle-Eastern conflict and banned the French Fry. Never forget the enormous sacrifice their citizens made to help downed American and other Allied airmen during those years. There are instances far too numerous to list).

Eventually betrayed to the Gestapo, tortured and sentenced to death as a spy, he was saved from the firing-squad by the Luftwaffe and sent to Stalag Luft 111, the POW camp from where the real Great Escape took place.

He spent the next three years attempting to escape until ultimately being freed from his camp by the advancing American forces.

Stateless, he settled in England, studied at Oxford University, having been awarded the MBE (Member of the British Empire), worked for the BBC's External Service in many foreign lands.

Sacked from the BBC because his extreme political leanings (which must have been very extreme as he was banned from the Communist Party of Great Britain!). Undaunted he founded the  Communist Party of Britain (Marxist-Leninist) and as far as I know, is still, at age 93, a Communist at heart.

Whatever his political persuasion, our thanks for his stance at an early stage of the war and his bravery and service during it.

The one thing I would like to know, and if anyone reading this can help I'd appreciate it, is whether people such as William Ash ever had their U.S. Citizenship re-instated.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Ash_(pilot)

 

Technorati Tags: WWII,World War II,Royal Air Force,American RAF Pilots,William Ash

A Sign for Our Times

This is just my way of recognizing a piece of 'news' that I think is front page stuff.  We all expect Navy Seals to be tough, resilient and highly motivated. Even by these high standards, Lieutenant Jason Redman stands out. He is a SEAL – part of the Navy's elite Special Ops team – who took rounds from a machine-gun in his face and arm in Iraq last year. Jason posted a bright orange sign on the door of his hospital room at Bethesda National Naval Medical Center:

Just in case it is hard to read, here is the text:

"Attention to all who enter here. If you are coming into this room with sorrow or to feel sorry for my wounds, go elsewhere. The wounds I received I got in a job I love, doing it for people I love, supporting the freedom of a country I deeply love. I am incredibly tough and will make a full recovery. What is full? That is the absolute utmost physically my body has the ability to recover. Then I will push that about 20 percent further through sheer mental tenacity. This room you are about to enter is a room of fun, optimism, and intense rapid regrowth. If you are not prepared for that, go elsewhere."

Thank you for your service Lieutenant Jason Redman.  And thank you for the inspiration you have brought to many of us without doing anything beyond being yourself.

Refer to the National Review online for additional details of the story. 

Technorati Tags: Navy Seals,Wounded,Sign on the Door

In Flanders Fields (for Veterans Day)

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918), Canadian Army

IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae, according the website of Arlington National Cemetery,

created "In Flanders Fields"  as a lasting legacy of the terrible battle in the Ypres salient in the spring of 1915. Here is the story of the making of that poem:

Although he had been a doctor for years and had served in the South African War, it was impossible to get used to the suffering, the screams, and the blood here, and Major John McCrae had seen and heard enough in his dressing station to last him a lifetime.

As a surgeon attached to the 1st Field Artillery Brigade, Major McCrae, who had joined the McGill faculty in 1900 after graduating from the University of Toronto, had spent seventeen days treating injured men -- Canadians, British, Indians, French, and Germans -- in the Ypres salient.

It had been an ordeal that he had hardly thought possible. McCrae later wrote of it:

"I wish I could embody on paper some of the varied sensations of that seventeen days... Seventeen days of Hades! At the end of the first day if anyone had told us we had to spend seventeen days there, we would have folded our hands and said it could not have been done."

One death particularly affected McCrae. A young friend and former student, Lieut. Alexis Helmer of Ottawa, had been killed by a shell burst on 2 May 1915. Lieutenant Helmer was buried later that day in the little cemetery outside McCrae's dressing station, and McCrae had performed the funeral ceremony in the absence of the chaplain.

The next day, sitting on the back of an ambulance parked near the dressing station beside the Canal de l'Yser, just a few hundred yards north of Ypres, McCrae vented his anguish by composing a poem. The major was no stranger to writing, having authored several medical texts besides dabbling in poetry.

In the nearby cemetery, McCrae could see the wild poppies that sprang up in the ditches in that part of Europe, and he spent twenty minutes of precious rest time scribbling fifteen lines of verse in a notebook.

A young soldier watched him write it. Cyril Allinson, a twenty-two year old sergeant-major, was delivering mail that day when he spotted McCrae. The major looked up as Allinson approached, then went on writing while the sergeant-major stood there quietly. "His face was very tired but calm as we wrote," Allinson recalled. "He looked around from time to time, his eyes straying to Helmer's grave."

When McCrae finished five minutes later, he took his mail from Allinson and, without saying a word, handed his pad to the young NCO. Allinson was moved by what he read:

"The poem was exactly an exact description of the scene in front of us both. He used the word blow in that line because the poppies actually were being blown that morning by a gentle east wind. It never occurred to me at that time that it would ever be published. It seemed to me just an exact description of the scene."

In fact, it was very nearly not published. Dissatisfied with it, McCrae tossed the poem away, but a fellow officer retrieved it and sent it to newspapers in England. The Spectator, in London, rejected it, but Punch published it on 8 December 1915.

Technorati Tags: In Flanders Fields,war poem,Veterans Day

Tommy (for Veterans Day)

Rudyard Kipling

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

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