The goodness of people

Many months ago, I logged on to the Find a Grave website as part of family history research, to see if I could find the war grave of my Grandad’s cousin, Wilfred Roy Major, who was shot down in a bomber over Germany in the Second World War.  I knew from the excellent Commonwealth War Graves Commission that he was buried at Durnback War Cemetery, Bavaria, and so put the details in, and lodged a request – more in hope than expectation –that should any photographers be passing, they might see his grave and send on a picture.

I forgot all about this service until last week, when an email popped up in my inbox, to tell me that my request has been fulfilled – somebody called “BobP” had actually taken the time, whilst at the cemetery, to find Wilfred Roy’s grave, and to upload a photograph for me.  I don’t know BobP - I don’t know who he is or where he comes from - but his act of kindness in helping to locate this important family monument will not be forgotten.  It reminds me that, in the age of the selfish, there is still goodness in people and a desire to help for nothing more than the sake of helping.

Family War Heroes - Wilfred Roy Major (141709)

February 1943, and wintery Europe finds itself in the grip of a cruel war's fourth year.  The continent has endured perhaps its bleakest ever period, but in the last month, there is a glimmer of hope, and a feeling that the tide of the Second World War is turning – British forces have captured Tripoli from the Nazis, whilst in the east, the Red Army has scored a decisive victory in one of history’s bloodiest battles, Stalingrad.  It is 25 February, and at RAF Ridgewell, Essex, a young RAF pilot officer, attached to 90 Squadron from the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve, catches up with the war latest in the newspaper.  Wilfred Roy Major, better known as Roy, has just earned his wings, and has flown his first mission over Germany with Bomber Command.  Tonight he flies his second mission, a dangerous bombing raid on the German city of Nuremberg.  It is the first night of a new ‘round-the-clock’ Allied air offensive that will see American aircraft pound German cities by day, with British bombers attacking them by night.  It is a devastating bombing tactic, which will claim thousands of civilian lives, as the war reaches its most terrible of conclusions.

Short Stirlings in flight (Source: WW II Vehicles)

It is 8.39pm, and Roy Major’s Short Stirling, BF410 WP-E, taxis across the runway and takes off, along with 337 other aeroplanes from airfields in the southeast – 169 Lancasters, 104 Halifaxes, and 64 Stirlings.  The 1000-mile round-trip will take five hours, during which they will encounter anti-aircraft flak and, even more menacing, German Messerschmitt fighters. If the bomber and its crew survives, they can expect to land back on British soil at around five o’clock in the morning.

Approaching Nuremburg at 15,000 feet, the crew spot the fires already blazing in the north of the city, and in the neighbouring town of Furth.  These fires were started by the flares of the 'pathfinders', dropped to mark out the target, so it could be more easily identified by the main bombers.  On this occasion, poor weather has led to some inaccuracy, and the northern fringes of the city, along with the aforementioned Furth, are bearing the brunt, along with the surrounding countryside. 

Nuremberg (Source: German Tragedy of Destiny)

Wilfred Roy Major’s bomber has dropped its load, and the crew is looking forward to returning home.  A cup of tea.  A soft bed.  English soil.  But then there is a stutter, an almighty jolt that throws the crew violently around their tin can.  The engines cut out.  Have they been hit by flak on their return journey?  Have they suffered the attack of an enemy fighter?  We don’t know the cause, but Short Stirling BF410 WP-E is falling frighteningly out of the sky.  Sergeant J. Carrick is the first to bail out of the aircraft.  He is also the last, parachuting to the ground whilst the machine nose-dives into the countryside, taking the seven other crew members to their deaths.  Sergeant Francis John Miles, the pilot, Sgt Arthur Vivian Derrick Hines, the flight engineer, Sgt George Pettinger, the navigator, Sgt John Henry Dyer, the bomb-aimer, Sgt William Hughes Bevan, the wireless operator, Sgt Eric Howeth Holmes, the air gunner, Sgt Wilfred Roy Major.  Aged 21.  On only his second mission.  A volunteer.  One of nine aircraft that did not return home on that terrible night.

Memorial to 90 Squadron at RAF Tuddenham (Source: War Memorials Online)

Sergeant J. Carrick was picked up by the German authorities, and spent the rest of the war interned in Stalag 8B (later 344) Lamsdorf prisoner of war camp.  He had the Prisoner of War Number 27633.  Wilfred Roy Major and the rest of the crew are buried at Durnbach War Cemetery, Bad Tolz, south of Munich.  The vast majority of those buried here are airmen shot down over Bavaria, Wurtemburg, Austria, Hassen and Thuringia, brought from their scattered graves by the Army Graves Service, as well as those killed whilst escaping from prisoner of war camps, or who died towards the end of the War on forced marches.  Wilfred Roy is buried close to the cemetery’s Stone of Remembrance, in Coll. Grave 11, H 1-7.  His connection to me is through my grandfather, who was Wilfred Roy's cousin.  

  

Wilfred Roy Major's Forces Record

First name:  Wilfred Roy

Initials:  W R

Surname: Major

DOB: Circa 1922

Age: 21

Nationality: British

Date of Death: 26/02/1943

Information: SON OF WILFRED DOUGLAS AND IVY MAY MAJOR OF EARLEY, READING, BERKSHIRE

Rank: Pilot Officer

Service Number: 141709

Campaign Medals: War Medal 1939-1945, 1939-45 Star

Service: Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve

Regiment: Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve

Battalion: 90 Squadron
Commemorated: Germany

A Grand Tour!

When I was seven, my grandparents took a long and fascinating tour around Europe, taking in numerous countries in the style of great artists and poets before them (only, instead of those romantic horse-drawn days, Grandma and Grandad went on a Wallace Arnold coach!)  As part of the great family history project, I've been busy collected some of the photos of this Grand Tour, and what a wonderful snapshot in time they are.  So why not come on a journey with me, back to 1992, to an age before digital cameras, when tours and holidays were booked face-to-face with the travel agent, and when a trip around Europe meant several different currencies in your pocket.

Somewhere on the English Channel, Mr. and Mrs. Major are heading to The Netherlands, to Zoetermeer near Amsterdam, to view the Floriade, a once-every-ten-years flower show (ask Grandma about it today, and she'll still tell you how colourful it was!)  From there, they will visit Amsterdam, before taking a trip down the Rhine, and eventually make it to the Bavarian town of Oberammergau, famous for its passion play and woodcarvings.  After this, it's a short hop to the Austrian city of Innsbruck, then on to Salzburg and Vienna, where Grandad will insist they go in search of the Beautiful Blue Danube.  They find it, too!

The Floriade

Oberammergau

Grandad at the River Salzach in Salzburg

The Beautiful Blue Danube at Vienna

After a whistle-stop tour of Austria, it's on to the magical city of Venice.  Grandma recalls how she never thought she'd get to see the city, but having seen pictures and paintings for nearly 70 years, she finally makes it.  Grandad, meanwhile, enjoys the architecture of the Doge's Palace, as seen in a previous blog post!  Rested and rejuvenated by Venice's soporific air, the tour moves on again to bustly, dusty Rome, where Grandma drops her camera, resulting in a unique holiday snap of some roadworks.  After Rome, it's the cultural hotspots of Florence and Pisa, before the stylish French riviera lures the tour group, to Monaco and Nice.

Venice, looking toward to San Giorgio Maggiore

Unusual holiday snaps in Rome

Michelangelo's David, in Florence

Monte Carlo

By now, the Swiss Alps are calling our globe trekkers, the lakeside towns of Thun, Interlaken (it's got a bit of a reputation in our family as a place to be!) and Lucerne nestled into prestine mountainous landscape, and a firm favourite with Grandma and Grandad.  Finally, in one final city stop before returning home, the workhorse of a coach trundles all the way up the backbone of France, stopping for a little exploration in Paris, a fantastic way to end the trip of a lifetime!

View between Interlaken and Lucerne

Wooden bridge, Lucerne

Up in the Alps

What an amazing journey, seeing some of the very best that Europe has to offer, and a wonderful photographic record to live in the family forever.  And not to forget the family, they even brought us presents - I eventually grew too big for my Florence baseball cap, but I can still picture it today, absolutely covered in little pictures of the city's iconic towers and cathedral.  It really is surprising how interesting other people's holiday snaps can be, so if this has piqued your interest, why not take a look at the rest of the collection?

Trains, Tors and Towers

Now here's somewhere I've been before. In October 2008, I spent a couple of days in Munich when I was inter-railing. Then, I had come direct from the hustle and bustle of Berlin, and Munich seemed quaint and sleepy.  This time, coming from quiet little Salzburg, Munich feels like a metropolis, huge, crowded and noisy.  Nonetheless, it's a city I really like, and one I have been itching to get back to for some time.

Our train delivers us into Munich station spot on time, having taken us through idyllic Bavarian scenes, little churches poking out of snowy villages.  Munich itself is free from the white stuff, so the novelty of walking on pavement without the fear of slipping over is really very pleasant.

Karlstor, Karlsplatz

In the city centre square, Marienplatz, the Christmas market is in full swing.  It's a lovely situation in the shadow of the seriously imposing Neues Rathaus - the new town hall - which dominates the square.  The markets continue in the rathaus courtyard, and in other courtyards around the city centre, and we wind up perching at one stall with a sausage and some chips, whilst a giant Christmas windmill turns in the far corner.

The Neues Rathaus

Christmas markets in Munich

I tell Lizzie that, as we are in Munich, we must pay a visit to the Englischer Garten, one of the world's great green urban spaces, a mere ten-minute walk from the city centre.  When I was last here, the park was bedecked in the reds and golds of autumn, but on a cold winter's day, the English Garden is toned significantly down.  There are still things to see here though, not least a gaggle of geese crossing the footpath in efficient formation.

Geese in the Englischer Garten

Lizzie in the Englischer Garten

Back in the town, we visit the church of St. Peter.  Known locally as Altes Peter ("Old Peter"), this is the oldest church in Munich, the current structure dating back to 1368.  For a couple of euros one can climb the bell tower for a magnificent view, and as the rain has held off, we decide to try our luck.  The ticket man - a student - enjoys my attempt to get the tickets in German, but we are soon on our way up the 306 wooden steps, held together with beams so that you can see back down the tower again.  It's quite a sobering thought to think you are climbing up the middle of an ancient tower, with only some old brickwork separating you from an unfortunate collision with Marienplatz, and the whole experience makes my head spin.  Reaching the top is a curious mix of euphoria and terror - we are caged in, but that familiar feeling to vertigo sufferers the world over kicks in, and I find myself instinctively clinging to the inner wall, and passing people on the inside.  Lizzie, meanwhile, appears to be enjoying the experience a lot more, and so she might - the view is phenomenal.  To the north is the Allianz Arena, built for the 2006 World Cup and home to both Bayern Munich and 1860 Munich football clubs.  Depending on who's playing, the entire stadium will glow red or blue at night.  Far closer is the city's cathedral, the Frauenkirche, and the lovely rooftop of the old town hall, whilst stretching off into the distance is the Free State of Bavaria.  It really is an unmissable experience, yet one that I am delighted to get out the way.

St Peter's Church

The New Town Hall and Frauenkirche, Munich'c cathedral, from Old Peter

Back on terra firma, we pay a quick visit to the church itself, and then go in search of the River Isar, which lies to the east, just beyond the city gate known as the Isartor.  If we had a day or two here, the Deutsche Museum, on the east bank of the river, would be the place to go - the largest museum of science and technology in the world, it gets rave reviews from every circle.  Instead, we content ourselves with a view of another European river, whilst Lizzie polishes off a bag of roasted chestnuts bought from a local street vendor.

The River Isar

It's dusk already, and after a stop for mulled wine and a weissbier, in a very traditional tavern where the women wear lederhosen, we enter the Frauenkirche, whose high ceiling and narrow nave has a somewhat special feel to it.  Perhaps it's because it is Christmas, or maybe it's the simplicity of the interior, but I find it a sanctuary of peace and tranquility in what has been a manic day.  Outside, the shoppers are still charging around the streets in search of their Christmas presents, but inside is like another world - calm, relaxed, a perfect place to stop.

Enjoying a weissbier

Munich is more-or-less as I remember it, only busier and with less street entertainment than my previous visit.  On this occasion, it has completely worn us out, and it is with quiet relief that we watch the city slide slowly past the window of the 19:19 back to Salzburg.  I still love the place, though, and who knows - maybe we'll be back here in another four years.

Max Joseph Platz