“...In hearts at peace, under an English heaven”: Cowleaze Woods and its secret tragedy

Elle:

 

I based the name of my blog on the childhood game ‘I-spy’ because I really believe if you are tuned in to the world around you, all you have to do is look and you will find something that has historical significance or a tale of the past to tell. This belief has certainly held true and last weekend provided a great example, for we stumbled (in my case literally) upon a memorial in a place I never would have imagined to find one. 

I spent the weekend with friends in Oxford and we decided to head for a country walk in an area of woodland known as Cowleaze Wood, famous for its annual blanketing of bluebells. As we strolled along, Katy - Oxfordshire resident and our ‘guide’ to the local area - recalled how in the very woodland we were walking there was a memorial to the crew of a Halifax bomber LW579 that crashed in the wood when returning from a bombing attack on Nuremburg during the Second World War. I was extremely surprised by this revelation not least because shortly after this recollection she proceeded to point out the very place and the memorial that has been erected in memory of the 7 crew members who died.

The tragic event is marked by an understated memorial stone and small information panel, with additional information having been attached to a nearby tree - I’m guessing by a local history enthusiast or perhaps relative of one of the casualties. The information panel reads as follows:

‘On 31^st March 1944 the Halifax bomber LW 579 crashed here, killing all seven members of the crew. Their names are inscribed on the stone. They had been on a bombing raid on Nuremburg in East Germany, one of the 1000 planes that took part in the raid.

Contrary to the weather forecast there was brilliant moonlight that night and the planes were attacked by German fighter planes and anti-aircraft guns. Tragically, having survived thousands of miles flown across Europe, they crashed here when they were so nearly home.’

As I sat at work on Friday, watching the commemorative ceremony at the cenotaph and honoured the two minutes silence in remembrance of V.E. Day, I couldn’t help but think about these men. Seven men whose individual contributions and deaths are included in the total figure of military and civilian victims of the Second World War (c.450,000 in Britain). It is all too easy to forget the individual sacrifice in favour of the national one but this memorial made me stop and think about each person as an individual, something I, and I’m sure many of us don’t do often enough beyond perhaps, our own families.

It was quite an odd experience being stood in that woodland. In a way it felt quite haunting, walking upon the very ground which had witnessed this catastrophe. It was the middle of nowhere and I was left wondering, how far was the nearest hospital? Would help have come in time to have given the crew at least some hope? Was it immediate or did some time pass before the site was discovered? They were all rather morbid questions that began running through my mind and questions that I’ve never really found myself considering before. With the legacy of the Blitz for example, you don’t tend to see sites where the destruction is still evident and so aren’t really provoked to ask these sorts of questions. The 70+ years since have paved the way for redevelopment and rebuilding and there are very few ‘battlefields’ on UK shores. The only places I can think of that really evoke similar feelings for me here in the UK, are military cemeteries such as Brookwood; sites which bring the enormity of the sacrifice and cost of war home in a really powerful way.

The memorial in Cowleaze wood was in a place that you would least expect to find one, unless you are unfamiliar with the event of course. I suppose, rather naively, I’d never really considered before that sites like this exist in Britain and I think perhaps that’s what I found so poignant about the site. That, and also the fact that it hasn’t been forgotten and that the crew are still remembered – the wreaths and crosses by the memorial providing striking evidence of that.

Finding this memorial prompted me to again look beyond what I know of World War Two and to consider another angle of the conflict; the military casualties lost on home soil. It was rather overwhelming to think that in this small area of Oxfordshire woodland, these men are still remembered for the sacrifice they made in defending our country, in such an intimate and understated way.

Katy: http://publichistorymusings.blogspot.co.uk/

As I have said in other blog posts, history tends to jump out at you when you least expect it. Despite walking in Cowleaze Woods from a young age, it was only a year and a half ago that my family told me about the memorial to the men who tragically died while returning home from their mission. I had drafted a blog post immediately after this discovery but deadlines and Christmas festivities meant I postponed its release. I am grateful I did as it has led to this collaboration of views and insights (plus double the exposure!)

I am unsure as to how many people local or otherwise know of the memorial; it certainly is off the beaten track for dog walkers and nature lovers. As a ‘local’, the memorial reminds me that the Second World War did not just happen abroad or in the cities; my place of picnics and den building is a public site of commemoration dedicated to those who tragically died on their way home. 
At the memorial itself, there is an information sheet pinned to a tree detailing the events of the night. I have summarised what it says here:

The MH-V crew had already survived nineteen missions in which 529 heavy-duty bombers had been lost. For this mission, Sergeant Kelly replaced Flying Officer K King, who usually flew with the crew, as King had come down with a case of shingles. This would prove a blessing in disguise as it spared him from the fate of his comrades. The crew were returning from their mission and were aiming to reach RAF Benson for an emergency landing, suggesting it may have been damaged. Either the aircraft succumbed to the damage sustained or the pilot was unaware of the height of the hill, resulting in a collision with the trees and the craft’s explosion on impact at 5:20 am on 31^st March 1944.

Information about the crew added to a tree

Without this additional information present at the site, the details of the crash would remain unknown. Despite being graphic, this information helps us to imagine the destruction, which occurred in the peaceful woods. More importantly, it allows us to feel connected to the men who died rather than simply seeing a stone monument for those long gone. 

As Elle has said, it is easy to focus on the national struggle rather than considering an individual’s experience. While watching the BBC’s Remembering Victory, I was struck by Bruce Forsyth’s story of the distinct lack of closure experienced by his family due to the label ‘missing’ assigned to his brother in the RAF. It has made me think of those families who survived; having to adjust to the spare chair at the dinner table, knowing that no more treasured letters would arrive. While we look back and celebrate VE Day, let’s take a moment to reflect how close to home tragedy struck and how fortunate we are to live in a time of relative peace in this country.

Blanket of Bluebells