大象传媒

My story is in memory of Joan Buckler - here is a poem that I wrote some time after her tragic death.

"In Memory of a Wren"
I am alive,
The sun shines
And rain falls on me.
Love surrounds me
While small hands hold mine trustingley.
Life, full and overflowing
Has been mine
Since a draft declared me
"Vice Buckler"
Young and unthinking
I, at eighteen,
Took her broken body's place;
Flew in planes,
Headphones ringing in my ears;
Landed, 'homed' lost pilots
And lived life to the full
"Vice Buckler".
The years have brought their sweetness
And the years have brought their sadness,
But for her a Naval funeral
Flag-draped coffin
And comrades to follow
To the grave
At eighteen.

I first met Joan at HMS Cabbala the signals school. She was in the course above me. All the people on my course were meant to be posted to the Orkneys but when Joan was killed I was sent in her place to another course for the Fleet Air Arm to home aircraft.
When the Duke of Edinburgh opened a Field of Rememberance at Westminster I planted a cross in memory of Joan Buckler in the naval section.

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