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The Few get fewer

#2
He was a POW at Stalag Luft 3 in the rank of FLT/LT.........RIP
 
#6
RIP sir.
 
#9
RIP
 
#11
RIP indeed! How can we even begin to thank these people who regarded their defence of Britain as "all in a day's work" and were willing to sacrifice their young lives!

MsG
 

the_boy_syrup

LE
Book Reviewer
#12
Quite fitting I suppose:

He died on the day and to the hour that the restored Battle of Britain Memorial Flight of a Lancaster bomber accompanied by a Hurricane and Spitfire took to the skies over London once again

RIP and Thanks
 
#14
"When finally captured by the Luftwaffe in Norway, an officer greeted Mr Hutchinson in perfect English with the words: "We've been waiting for you for a while and I'm afraid our coffee is cold but have some schnapps instead."

Beautiful

Rest In Peace Sir
 
#15
RIP Sqn Ldr Hutchinson


Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew --
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
 
#16
RIP.

A fine man.

Hutchinson and Neville Duke in less than a month. The Few do indeed grow fewer. Splendid men!
 
#19
ViroBono said:
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew --
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
High Flight, by Pilot Officer Gillespie Magee
No 412 squadron, RCAF
Killed 11 December 1941

The poem I chose for my (ex-RAF pilot) grandfather's funeral. Brings tears to my eyes at every reading...
 
#20
RIP Sqn Ldr Hutchinson. You and your comerades gave us the hope for continued freedom in the world. Sleep well in the after life.
 

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