15 July, 2011

Wooden Ships And Iron Men?

The older I get the more I realise (and this is confirmed by my wife!) that I am becoming my father. Increasingly I find myself thinking his thoughts, using his phrases,  sitting as he used to sit, seeing the world through his eyes and each morning, as I look at myself in the mirror as I shave, I realise that it is his face that stares back! At one time I would have been horrified by this prospect but now it seems perfectly natural and reasonable – at least to me - and in many ways I am quietly pleased. My father, although a humble man and someone with whom I did not develop a close relationship with until later in life, was, I believe, someone to look up to. I once read that it is the destiny or responsibility of every son to be better than his father. I don't know if that is true but I do know that if I can be the sort of man my Dad was then I will be satisfied.
Dad and me in the 
mid fifties

My father died about five years ago, my mother having died two or three years earlier. I have always regretted that I did not have the close father/son relationship with him that some enjoy. He was a long distance lorry driver and often away for much of the week and on top of that when he was at home there were frequent rows about money which coloured my childhood, which still haunt me and sadly made relationships difficult within the family. The opportunities for Dad and I to do things together were limited and for me that was a great sadness; although I loved my mother, even at my young age, I was aware that she was a difficult woman and that my Dad couldn't really win - whatever he did. We did, however, occasionally go to the cinema – him and me. I would have liked my mother to have come as well but she wasn't one for the cinema so it was usually just us two. As the years have passed those cinema trips with Dad have become more important to me and if one of these old films is repeated on TV I'm a sucker for it  -  it takes me back to the darkened cinema,  to the  heavily  made up usherette ( a real woman!) selling ice creams, to fish and chips on the way home and to that shared couple of hours with my Dad.

On at the local 'Flea Pit!'. Little did I know that 
over 50 years later I would be reading the story 
and still be 'hooked'!
This was in the mid fifties and the term ‘cinema’ is probably a bit over the top – we actually went to one of the several 'flea pits' that were to be found in the narrow streets near where we lived in Preston, Lancashire. I can still remember , and almost smell them today: 'The Guild', 'The Queen’s', 'The Plaza', 'The Carlton' – all within a short walking distance of our little terraced house. And we saw films like 'Paleface', 'Genevieve', 'Robin Hood', 'Davy Crockett', 'The Robe', 'The Ten Commandments', '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea', 'Son of Paleface' , 'A Kid for  Two Farthings', 'The Cockleshell Heroes', 'King of the Khyber Rifles', 'The Dam Busters', 'Shane', 'High Noon', .......the list goes on. And today, I'm still a sucker for these – what I call real films, not the rubbish that fills our screens today – films with real heroes, likeable people and where the 'good guys' are good and the 'bad guys' get their due punishment! Many would say they are 'naff', twee, old fashioned. That may well be the case – they certainly don’t contain the real violence or seamy side of life portrayed in modern films – but they do speak of a gentler life and honourable action – something to aspire to and make you feel good. For a youngster they were portraying worthwhile values – albeit a bit twee. I would argue this is much more savoury than the values portrayed to the young in modern films. Who cannot empathise with the ultimate hero -Shane - a man who portrays all the best in human nature. A man of few words: quiet, unassuming, dignified. No Clint Eastwood figure this. I defy anyone not to empathise with the feelings of  Shane as as he stoically and unflinchingly takes the abuse from the Ryker gang and doesn't rise to their bait. And no-one could not breath a sigh of relief as he faces down the psychopathic gunslinger Jack Wilson and eventually kills him? Who cannot feel anxious and want to help Gary Cooper as Marshal Will Kane in "High Noon" as he desperately tries to enlist the help of other town folk to face the dreaded Miller gang? I refuse to believe that anyone cannot be moved by the story of young Joe as he looks after sickly little goat he has bought believing  that it is a unicorn in 'A Kid for Two Farthings'. Even as I write this I can still feel the anger and anxiety as I watched Sam, the honest, hard working young man in the film, wrestle with the dreaded and evil  'Python Macklin' (played by the huge wrestler Primo Carnera)  whilst the crowd bay and Sam’s girl friend Sonia (played by Diana Dors) averts her eyes from the punishment that Sam was receiving! I can still hear my Dad that evening leaning over in the darkened Queens's cinema in Tunbridge Street - three or four minutes walk from my home - and whispering 'That's Primo Carnera, Tony - he's a nasty, big headed, 'bu**er'. 
The Queen's where dad and I saw many films including  'A kid for two farthings'.
It had been a cinema since the Great War but by the mid-sixties changed from being
 a family cinema to one showing "X" rated films and renamed itself the Continental.
It is now a Punjabi Temple  reflecting the make up of the local inhabitants

I have often reflected that it is by such quietly whispered words or casual conversations over the tea table that children learn right and wrong, or learn of the things that their parents  aspire to and expect of them: in short they learn to be grown up. My Dad's words that night in the darkened cinema have remained with me - I can still hear him today sixty years later; I didn't think of it in these terms but looking back they told me of things that I should value and that my Dad valued - fairness, honesty, thought for the underdog, of not being a bully and of not being big headed. And, his words did it in a far more effective way than a lecture or telling off would ever have done.  Maybe I'm  reminiscing through rose coloured glasses but I can still, too, remember the quiet kindly wisdom and wonderful voice of David Kossoff playing Mr Kandinsky, the Jewish tailor, as he  talked to little Joe about life and death when Joe’s 'unicorn' finally died -  as we all knew it would. I knew that Mr Kandinsky was everything that one should be, unlike the thoroughly unpleasant "Python" and  I knew it was so because the film told me and more important my Dad did.  It was, like the rest of those cinema trips with Dad, one of those growing up things - hours that were few but still today, much treasured!


What a hero!
I mention all this by way of introduction. My daughter was aware of my love of old films and knew that I had especially enjoyed, all those years ago, seeing 'The Cockleshell Heroes'.  (also see my blog: ‘Balance Sheet or Basic Humanity’). I was about ten at the time. And this year my daughter bought me, for my birthday, a copy of the book (by Quentin Rees) retelling the story of the Cockleshell Heroes. This is  not a novel -  but a tightly researched and hugely detailed biographical account of the military operation and the people involved. I am not much of a military man and abhor all war but on this occasion was engrossed.

The greatest western
 ever made - say I!
For those not familiar with the story, it took place in December 1942. The war was raging and  Hitler dominated Europe. Churchill and the top military took the decision that it would be helpful to mount 'raids' on European targets – partly to inflict damage on the enemy’s war effort  but equally importantly to keep the Germans at 'full stretch' – to 'tie up' valuable soldiers in guarding activities and the like – in this way they would not be available at 'the front'. One of the raids planned was the one which has become known as 'The Cockleshell Heroes'  - an attempt by twelve men in small kayaks (cockles) to paddle up the river Gironde estuary  in occupied France (about 90 miles) and plant mines on the German ships docked in the harbour at Bordeaux. The idea was first thought of and planned in its minutest detail by 'Blondie Hasler'. The operation’s correct name was Operation Frankton and was first put forward in September 1942. Hasler conceived the raid, put the idea to Lord Mountbatten and Churchill and then having received the go-ahead was adamant that he should take part – even though it was accepted that survival was unlikely.

The book of the film - I can
remember buying it after
 I'd seen the film
In the  autumn of 1942 preparations began. What I found fascinating about the story was the huge and meticulous attention to detail in the preparations and at the same time what we would view today as an amateurish, Heath Robinson approach. Hasler was totally responsible. He designed everything himself – the 'cockles', the lifting apparatus that would lift the fully laden little boats from the submarine into the sea, the calculations of rations and items that they could carry with them, the storage racks in the submarine that would hold the cockles in place as they journeyed to the dropping off point off the Gironde estuary. He made hugely detailed little drawings of all the equipment and maps - no computers for him! He selected the men for the mission – ordinary men who had volunteered. Men, who before the war had been bus drivers and the like but had 'joined up' or been conscripted at the outbreak of war. These were not highly trained professional soldier commandos and Hasler had to devise their training, teach them simple French phrases to give them a chance should they survive the raid and be in a position to escape through France, build their stamina for a hugely physically demanding task and teach them basic seamanship so that they could safely navigate the treacherous estuary and keep together as they paddled in complete darkness. He had to decide who would paddle with who in each canoe – each boat had two men with rations, mines and all the other equipment required – it was crucial that the loss of a canoe would not jeopardise the whole mission so the logistics of the whole a operation and  the manning of each canoe was critical. He had  to factor in the weight of each man, the particular skills he had, the ability of the two men to 'get on together'  these were all   crucial to the operation’s success - and it all had to be done in  a matter of weeks. Some of the men had never paddled before and so the training and stamina building in the highlands of Scotland was intensive - all under Hasler's direction.  And on top of all that, he had to do it without telling the men what they were going to do – none of them knew what the mission was until the submarine had  left port and was below the waves en route to the Gironde.
Blondie Hasler

I was also humbled to read of the men on the mission. Ordinary men who simply volunteered for  'a hazardous mission' as it was called. Young men  from very ordinary backgrounds – some of them no more than boys not long out of school. They put their complete trust in Hasler – even when he told them that the chances of a safe return were pretty slim and gave them the opportunity to drop out. None of them did drop out. One of the men, Eric Fisher,  had been a complete non-swimmer when he volunteered for the mission and had to be taught! Unfortunately as his canoe was being winched, in the dark,  out of the submarine it was damaged and could not be used. He and his fellow paddler were therefore not able to go on the mission – as he stood on  the submarine deck watching his comrades paddle off into the darkness it is recorded that he broke down and sobbed uncontrollably so distressed was he at missing out on the venture. In the event, his swimming lessons bore fruit – he became an underwater frogman! Eric, a humble print machine minder in civilian life survived the war but took part in several highly dangerous operations and then returned to his former occupation - minding printing machines. All very matter of fact!   
Hasler and Sparks in their cockle

There were a number of other touching stories – copies of the last letters that the men wrote home – Hasler insisted that they did this although at the stage they wrote them they did not know what the mission was. The letters were handed to the submarine commander for delivery  as the  men left the submarine. One man's letters  in particular  stand out – those written by 20 year old Robert Ewart. He wrote to his young girl friend Heather. In his rather old fashioned, looped handwriting he  told Heather that if he didn't return she should “........not take it too hard, you have your life to live, think of me as a good friend and keep your chin up, some lucky fellow will find you who has more sense than I do and who can get you what you deserve........I’ll say cheerio and God be with you. Thanking you and your mother from the bottom of my heart.” Robert also wrote to his family. ‘Dear Mum, Dad and Brothers..........As you know I volunteered for a certain job which I trust you will learn about at a later period. I've enjoyed every minute of it and hope it will help to end the war and make it a decent and better world...........I’ll be like a bad penny and turn up; so please don’t upset yourself over my safety. My heart will be with you always, you are the best parents one could have. Anyway, Mum, you can always say you had a son in the most senior service, and though I say it myself, I might be 'one of twelve heroes'. No matter how hard I try I don't see many young soldiers of today writing such  mature, unassuming and sensitive letters - but perhaps I'm wrong - I hope so.
Robert Ewart
Bill Sparks
Both letters are much longer than I have quoted but humbling in the matter of fact way they are expressed and  in the use of language from a very ordinary young man. Both gave me food for thought of the differences with today – these young men just accepted their danger as part and parcel of life. It’s worth noting that Robert’s wish for his girl friend didn't come true. Robert was caught by the Germans and executed in a wood at 3 o'clock in the morning on December the 11th 1942. He had been interrogated but gave no clues as to the mission in order that the rest of his comrades should be protected. Heather was only fifteen years old and shortly after Robert’s execution German radio announced that several British commandos 'have been slaughtered in France'. This was reported in the Portsmouth newspaper and Heather read it. She immediately became ill, suspecting that one was Robert, although she had no knowledge of where he was or what he was doing. She was ill  in bed by Christmas. In January 1943 Robert’s parents were officially informed that he was missing and presumed dead. When Heather learned of this she plummeted further into despair and over the next few months she simply declined. Eventually she caught tuberculosis and died later in 1943 – almost a classic case of a 'broken heart'.
Part of Robert Ewart's letter to Heather
My birthday gift

The operation was ultimately successful – but at  a cost. Of the twelve men who had been involved six were caught and executed,  two were lost and believed drowned in the Gironde estuary, two did not take part because of the damaged canoe – and both survived the war – and two, Hasler and Bill Sparks survived, escaped through France to Spain and returned safely home. It was a high price to pay – but Churchill felt it a worthwhile price – he often said that he believed the damage caused to the ships in  Bordeaux harbour plus the inconvenience that it caused to the German military machine probably shortened the war by about six months.

As I said above, I am not a military man and have reached the stage where Hollywood type war films and the posturing of modern politicians offends me – this is, it seems to me, the glorification of war. But reading the book and thinking back to the film that I watched as a ten year old all those years ago reminded me of the higher values that these soldiers seemed to have. I am not naive – war has always been terrible, violent and unpleasant. People behave in ways they would not normally do in peace time. But it seems to me that the sort of quiet values that were portrayed in the films of the era – 'A Kid for Two Farthings', 'Shane', 'High Noon', 'King of the Khyber Rifles', 'Genevieve', 'The Dam Busters' and the rest  spoke of a way of behaving, a set of values  and an attitude to life that we have perhaps lost. And, it seems a lot like the sort of quiet values, dignity, manners, respect, empathy with others, common humanity, maturity, the will not to give in when the going gets tough, pride and bravery that were displayed by the men of Operation Frankton – the Cockleshell Heroes. 


Mr Nasty - Python
Macklin - I really
hated him!

 As I have mentioned in a previous blog ('Coming to a street near you.......a shrieking orgy of fake tan, false lashes, fights, booze....' ) I found  a photograph last year in the newspaper  showing  an American GI -  but it could equally have been a British Squaddie -  in Iraq sitting, tired and exhausted. I found the photograph offensive and spoke volumes about how our attitudes have changed. On each finger of his hands was tattooed ‘F**K YOU’ – it saddened me to see a 'professional' soldier, not an unwilling conscript, proud to display this. I find it equally or perhaps even more offensive that his superiors permitted him to display this vulgarity and that we as a society accept that it is "alright". I don't somehow see  Robert Ewart or Bill Sparks, or Eric Fisher being proud to display the same motto - nor do I think Hasler would have allowed them to do so. I don’t think that Gary Cooper, as he played the brave marshal in 'High Noon', or Alan Ladd as he stood up for what was right in 'Shane' would have portrayed this image. I can, however, in my mind’s eye, picture brave Marshal Kane hero of 'High Noon' writing the sort of letter to his young wife before he went out to face the Miller gang  that Robert Ewart wrote to his girl friend before he set off in his little 'cockle' - never to return. In my mind’s eye I can picture the brave Sam in 'A Kid for Two Farthings', as he climbed into the wrestling ring knowing he was going to be savagely beaten by Python Macklin, being just the sort of young man that Blondie Hasler would have been looking for to be part of his 'hazardous mission'  – and Sam would have joined it without a thought! I can believe that the sort of words and quiet reasoning that the injured Shane, after the gunfight with Jack Wilson, used to young Joey when he explained  to the boy  about how he should grow up straight and tall and look after his Ma and Pa were just the sort of words that Hasler and Sparks would have used when they modestly talked about their adventures on their return home. They didn’t see it as bravery  - just a job to be done in a dignified, quiet, unassuming, mature and professional way - just like Shane. The film heroes and the real life heroes represented the best that we can aspire to. They put their own safety and life on hold while they attended to these greater matters. They had a quiet acceptance of what they had to do and how they had to do it.  They were the perfect role models - not at all like the role models we present to the young today - foul mouthed and often violent sports stars driven by money; shallow celebrities; films where violence is the focus rather than honest deed and honourable action. 

But I loved him - Marshal  Kane
explains to his young wife that a
man's gotta do what a man's
gotta do!
Bobby Jones - loved and respected
 for the life he lead - and he was
also a fairly good golfer!
So, yes, I might be naive. I’m certainly a sucker for the old films. But I think maybe we have lost something – we are so clever today, there are many things we can be proud of and have gained. But there are also many things perhaps we have lost – and many of these are the stuff of the 'Cockleshell Heroes' and the films of the time. My worry is that if our films and media today do not portray these basic human values to the young. If our 'heroes' – sports stars, celebrities, politicians etc -  portray values  and a way of life that does not give young people something worthwhile to aspire to then where else will they get it?

In that context  I am reminded of two quotes one from my Dad and one from journalist Alistair Cooke. In one of his 'Letters from America' (March 2002 – to commemorate the birth of the American golfer Bobby Jones) Cooke said 'Bobby Jones was not only the best player in the world, probably the best there has ever been, but the most attractive sports hero of the day. Even by people who knew no golf, he was idolized on both sides of the Atlantic for his god-given combination of flashing good looks, wry humour and unflagging modesty. He became, and remained until the day of his death, the First Gentleman of Golf'. I have no interest in golf or golfers but it seems to me that what Cooke was describing was the sort of hero and celebrity that we have lost. It is perhaps relevant to also mention that Jones, at the height of his fame, was diagnosed with an incurable and progressive wasting disease causing paralysis. Jones’ only comments on this were:  'Well now, let's not talk about it. We play the ball, you know, as it lies'. And to his golfing friends: 'I don’t think I will be playing with you boys for some time'. Alistair Cooke described Jones as '...kind and genial, without affectation to friends and strangers; and always looking out for the shy one in the corner.' Cooke made the point well – Jones was loved, admired and respected firstly for his qualities as a human being and only secondly for his golfing prowess – people wanted to be like him  because of the virtues he displayed not for his stardom -  a very far cry, perhaps from how we perceive our heroes today. No matter how much I try I cannot see the same verdict being passed on Wayne Rooney or a thousand other professional sportsman - that they were loved for their virtues as human beings.

Shane - the ultimate hero - explains to
little Joey about the nature of heroism!

In fact, going back to my earlier points – Jones, it seems to me, represented the sort of values and behaviours epitomised by Shane, Marshal Kane, Blondie Hasler, Robert Ewart, Mr Kandinsky, Bill Sparks and the rest – be they real or fictional. As I noted above, in the film 'Shane' a conversation is held  between Shane and Joey, the young boy in the story. Joey, who sees Shane as the brave hero, pleads with Shane to stay and look after him and his family. But Shane points out that he, Joey, can be the hero and increasingly care for and look out for his Ma and Pa. Anyone, says Shane, can learn to shoot a gun, ride as horse and enjoy an exciting life but that doesn't make him a hero. A few years later the same sort of conversation takes place in another of my favourite films - "The Magnificent Seven" - a youthful Charles Bronson, one of the "Magnificent Seven"  smacks the bottom of a young Mexican boy when the boy says that his farmer father is a coward because he only pulls a plough and doesn't know how to shoot a gun. Bronson tells the boy that his father carries his bravery - the responsibility for his wife and family - like a millstone around his neck and it is slowly pulling him into the earth - "that's real bravery" says Bronson.  This might seem like sentimental Hollywood  drivel – indeed it is – but the point is, I believe, well made. It is also the stuff of the Cockleshell Heroes. I can just imagine Robert Ewart, had he lived and married Heather, saying what Shane said to Joey to his own son or grandson.

The harbour as Hasler and Sparks
left it in December 1942 -
iron ships laid low by iron men
in their little wooden cockles
Hasler and Sparks return in happier
 times to Bordeaux to see again the
harbour where they
reeked such damage 

And the other quote – the one from my Dad? Much briefer, but one he used often and which I now find myself, as I become older and gaze at my dad's face looking back at me in the shaving mirror, increasingly thinking, if not saying (but I'm sure that will come!): “We used to have wooden ships and iron men – now we have iron ships and wooden men!” – I think that sums up well the heroes of yesteryear when compared with today! And I think it has a sweet irony - Hasler and Sparks and the rest of those heroes who didn't return, those men of iron, paddled their little wooden framed ships - their cockles - and caused much destruction of the mighty iron warships of the German navy - true wooden ships and iron men. Dad was right all along!


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