大象传媒

The story begins one Sunday in the vestry of an old but handsome church in the West Country of England. On this unforgettable day, a young boy was dressed in a sombre, ankle length buttoned black coat. Over this, was a loose white garment reaching the thighs. To complete the cassock and surplice ensemble, there was a large and stiff, white Eton collar.

When similarly robed, it was usual for all the boy choristors to assemble and wait by the large door at the far end of the vestry, which opened onto granite steps going down into the back of the church. The routine each Sunday was for the vicar to proceed through the doorway and stand on the left of the top step to announce the number of the first hymn. The choir boys would then come out in two's past the vicar and singing the nominated hym, went down the steps and round to the main central aisle of the church, before leading the whole choir up to the choir stalls.

Today was different. On this Sunday, more heads than usual turned at the rattling of the old ring handle, announcing the opening of the vestry door, The choir boys emerged as usual and came down those old steps to the bottom, where they stopped and stood there lining up on both sides. The men in the choir could be seen waiting, through the open door of the vestry. There was no announcement of the hymn. There was no vicar, There was only silence. An unreal silence, which created an air of expectancy throughout the whole congregation, as it waited.

After a while, here and there in the congregation watches were beginning to be lifted from waistcoat pockets, for the owners to peer at the time, The great clock in the high tower above which could be heard all across the town with its message that another hour had passed and that all was well - it too was silent. Time was standing still. Then in that moment, there was suddenly the boom of the clock ringing out the quarters and then, that momemtary hush, the pause before the commanding first strike, followed by the tolling out of the eleventh hour.

Minutes passed and silence descended again. Until there was the unmistakable clank of the heavier ring handle of the South door. It sighed as it opened and the vicar appeared. In one of his hands could be seen a piece of paper, as he carefully and quietly closed the door. He turned and his steps could be clearly heard as with careful deliberation, he made his way to the central aisle to go up through the main body of the church towards the pulpit. There, he hesitated, his grey head bowed for a moment before he looked up to where he had delivered so many addresses, This would perhaps be the most telling, The one which would have everyone's attention. The one never to be forgotten.

Up in the pulpit the vicar looked solemn as his eyes swept around the sea of faces of this large congregation. The ones he had married, The young mothers and the babies he had christened, together with the young fathers. What of the older lined faces, showing they had already given so much? He wanted to speak to everyone there and to find the right words for each person.

The vicar began by announcing that he had been waiting by the wireless for the 大象传媒 news broadcast. Then he went on to say that he had written down the main words from the bulletin. The vicar read very carefully from his piece of paper, so as to repeat exactly what he had heard. There was an absolute hushed silence throughout the church as he spoke slowly and distinctly and finally, finishing with the words 鈥淔rom 11 o鈥檆lock this morning, this country is at war with Germany.鈥�

Each person had hung on to every word. The senior citizens, perhaps with memories never to be forgotten, looked down in dispair and no doubt in prayer. Others, rich and poor, looked at one another as if anticipating that something was about to happen, there and then. Seeing and perhaps anticipating the reaction the Vicar spoke again. In an even tone, he said he felt it was appropriate that the service should, as normal, begin and continue. He quietly, but clearly announced the number of the first hymn.

As I and the other young boy choristors, led the choir through the church that Sunday morning singing that hymn, perhaps we could not fully understand the reason for the subdued response from the congregation. But neither could we be expected to know that the announcement by the vicar, was the foretelling of times of tears and of sadness with the loss of lives and the break up of families. Of many trying days, that would extend into weeks, into months and eventually years...........

The service, took place in the parish church of Fowey on the South West coast of Cornwall, England. Destiny was beckoning. This very small town, with its magnificent harbour, was to become one of the focal points for the most courageous and truly momentous events of the whole war.

The date was the 3rd of September, 1939.

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