Y Filltir Sgwâr/The Square Mile: The Blenheim Bomber Memorial

In a year long series Tom Maloney, from Abersychan, shows how you can love a place so well it becomes a part of you.

How good it is to be able to shut the door and within half an hour or thereabouts to be on top of a mountain. It is of course an uphill trek all the way and I have to admit that my feet don’t move quite as quickly as they once did, but the rewards make the effort all the more well-earned.

Mountain walking is exhilarating and demanding in a way that is so different and it has so many moods. The wind can be gentle, no more than a whisper in your ear, gently caressing the cheeks of your face. When the wind is with you, like a friend it carries you along, but in moments it tests you and brings out all your strength as if in battle.

Following the ridge path from Mynydd Garn-wen to the Blenheim Bomber memorial can be all of this and more in the same afternoon and it was like that for me on this walk.

Crash

It was particularly appropriate as this weekend marks the anniversary of the WW2 crash of the bomber on the mountainside in adverse weather conditions whilst on a training flight and which sadly resulted in the deaths of all the crew.

For this feature I will lean a little on the shoulders of the excellent research of local historian Ken Clark who wrote a booklet about the crash for the Abersychan History Society in 2001.

All of the photos in this feature were taken within an hour of each other and show just how much the weather can change rapidly in a short time. The conditions on the day of the crash were far worse with little or no visibility at all.

‘The 22^nd of September 1940 was a Sunday and the Eastern Valley of Monmouthshire was having one of those quiet days that occur when the cloud ceiling is low over the surrounding mountain tops. At around 2pm Mr. Ken Jones, who was a boy at the time … heard a low-flying aircraft which he couldn’t see, pass by and then there was a loud ‘crump’ noise. He heard later that a plane had crashed and he went to see it the next day up by the ‘Devil’s Heap of Stones’.’

In just few a descriptive sentences Ken Clark portrays the event that was remembered very well by so many other members of the community as well. No one saw the crash due to the low cloud, but there was a visible ‘glow in the cloud covering the mountain’. I have seen low clouds like this so many times from my garden in Abersychan.

At the beginning of my walk, I felt very much a sense of that day and my thoughts went out to the crew who must surely have felt their nerves being sorely tested. The plane was one of twelve taking part in the training flight that day, so the pilot would very likely have been all too aware of the possibility of collision in the air as well.

Cloud cover

As I continued walking, the cloud cover began to lift. It is always remarkable to witness how dramatic the change can be, unbelievable really, until you see it. Like two landscape paintings of the same view painted at different times and then cut in half with one side from each swopped over.

The ridgeway here is a magnificent dividing line between the industrialised landscape of northern Torfaen and the patchwork quilt of green agricultural fields of Monmouthshire.

As the sun broke through along the path, a spectacular image of two halves on the Monmouthshire side emerged.

I well remember how difficult it was to find the Blenheim Bomber memorial on my first visit. I have visited several WW2 crash sites in the Brecon Beacons and it is always the same, even when the visibility is excellent.

It has been my experience that you have to be within yards before you see what you are looking for. This stone memorial blends in very well with the surrounding landscape.

Ken Clark was hugely instrumental in the dedicated community effort to erect this moving tribute to the airmen.

‘The placing of a memorial to these brave young men was the culmination of the efforts of many people over a long period, and it was fitting that Abersychan and Garndiffaith Local History Group took the idea forward as one of their Millennium Year Projects.’

Little raindrop beads, a tell-tale sign of the earlier drizzly weather, fittingly adorned the plaque and sparkled in the afternoon sun as I stopped to read the inscription.

These were but young men, the oldest just 29. It is good that we remember them, but I felt another sadness too, that after all these years there are still wars and that so many people still die needlessly, with so many children getting caught in the conflicts too. How much time does it take to learn the futility of war?

As I walked down the mountainside, I viewed the probable crash site close to Mynydd Garnclochy. This rugged landscape has probably changed very little over the years. It is boggy terrain, with concealed dips where you can easily find your feet in deep water.

I thought of the efforts that were made to get to the site as soon as possible after the crash to find there was nothing that could be done for the crew.

Account

Ken Clark includes the account of local policeman Tom Jarvis, who was one of the first to attend.

‘There were several men and young lads who had run up from the Cwmavon area before I arrived, and, with their help, I wrapped the bodies in parachutes and later conveyed them to a nearby barn.’

Tom Jarvis stayed overnight on the mountain guarding the wreckage, finding shelter from the rain under one of the wings awaiting the arrival of the RAF.

‘The RAF came with a large girder like trailer and had great difficulty in negotiating parts of Waterworks Lane which had an unmade and rutted surface.

After searching the area, the Flight Sergeant in charge reported to me that he had recovered all available parts of the aircraft except one machine gun with an ammunition belt and the aircraft’s rear wheel.

I searched the area but failed to find the missing articles.

This went into my report and some weeks later we received information that the machine gun was in a house in Victoria Village. We went to the house and recovered the machine gun and ammunition. It was set up ready to fire.

Sometime later … we saw a man coming towards us wheeling a barrow … it had an unusual wheel, which turned out to be the missing wheel from the crashed Blenheim Bomber.’

Recording history for the future is so important. Local history gives us an understanding of what it was like for ordinary people.

The stories in a landscape can be so different and evoke such poignant memories. Ken Clark, in his book, has surely done much to record a significant moment time for the little village of Abersychan and to ensure that we too remember the lives of the air crew of Blenheim Bomber L8610.

In memory of:

Sergeant H. Wilson, Pilot, RAF

Pilot Officer A. D. Copplestone, Observer, RAF

Sergeant John November, Wireless Operator/Air Gunner, RAF