baldpipeguy
Most wondrous of all
John's diary is curious... there are no accounts of day-to-day events; just daily expressions of longing, pangs of separation, and desperately wanting to be with the one he loved.
Apparently, they had made an agreement that, wherever they were, they would watch the sunset every day and think of the other. Perhaps the rising and setting of the sun made them feel that their eventual reunion was to be as certain, and as eternal.
I think John here is consciously trying to create an "arty" photograph but has nonetheless perfectly expressed who he was: the graceful pose; the newspaper standing in for a book of love poems; the elegant outfit; the sand and the tide at Equihen; and a sunset that he could share with his officer in South Africa, no matter where he found himself and that promised such a joyous time to come someday.
The military post was very slow and many of John's letters arrived when he was already months dead. Meanwhile, his anguished officer-lover wrote letters begging for news and expressing utmost faith they would be together again.
John had been torpedoed already, in the Mediterranean, and until only last year we had always understood he was killed aboard SS "Boston" when it was torpedoed off Newfoundland on September 25, 1942.
But we since have learned that all the crew of the "Boston" were taken off by a destroyer, HMS "Veteran" which was itself torpedoed the very next day. This time, only two of the "Veteran"'s crew survived.
It breaks my heart to think what was going through John's mind then... perhaps, how cruel it must have seemed that he had been given a reprieve and would yet again be with the man he loved...and now, here he was again in the water and this time he would not survive.
And now the most tragic part of the story.
In recent years it's been speculated that some convoys were sent out merely as decoys to draw U-boats away from the precious troop transports...and it seems John's convoy was one of these.
As I understand it:
The "Boston" was no oceangoing vessel; it was a pleasure steamer that had formerly taken honeymooners on sunset cruises along the New England coast. Probably she should never have been on the North Atlantic in the first place. But everything that could float was needed to keep the flow of war materiel going - or so it was said.
Of all the ships that risked the Atlantic crossing during the war years, none were more important than the Cunard "Queens" - the Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary - that had been quickly stripped of their luxury fittings and converted into troopships that carried as many as 18,000 men at a time. Had one of them been lost, the cost both to the war effort and morale would have been catastrophic.
Hence, convoys were sent out into waters known to be infested with U-boats to divert the enemy away from the irreplaceable Queens and other liners carrying men to the battle in Europe, including the Normandy invasion.
Sensitive, beautiful John - who loved so ardently and who stole his father's handkerchiefs for ascots - perhaps died just so that thousands of other men could make it safely across the cold, lonely Atlantic, many only to die themselves so Europe could be liberated.
I hope John and his handsome officer are sitting, arms around each other's shoulders, watching the most beautiful sunsets of all, together forever at last.
How I wish I had known him.
Most wondrous of all
John's diary is curious... there are no accounts of day-to-day events; just daily expressions of longing, pangs of separation, and desperately wanting to be with the one he loved.
Apparently, they had made an agreement that, wherever they were, they would watch the sunset every day and think of the other. Perhaps the rising and setting of the sun made them feel that their eventual reunion was to be as certain, and as eternal.
I think John here is consciously trying to create an "arty" photograph but has nonetheless perfectly expressed who he was: the graceful pose; the newspaper standing in for a book of love poems; the elegant outfit; the sand and the tide at Equihen; and a sunset that he could share with his officer in South Africa, no matter where he found himself and that promised such a joyous time to come someday.
The military post was very slow and many of John's letters arrived when he was already months dead. Meanwhile, his anguished officer-lover wrote letters begging for news and expressing utmost faith they would be together again.
John had been torpedoed already, in the Mediterranean, and until only last year we had always understood he was killed aboard SS "Boston" when it was torpedoed off Newfoundland on September 25, 1942.
But we since have learned that all the crew of the "Boston" were taken off by a destroyer, HMS "Veteran" which was itself torpedoed the very next day. This time, only two of the "Veteran"'s crew survived.
It breaks my heart to think what was going through John's mind then... perhaps, how cruel it must have seemed that he had been given a reprieve and would yet again be with the man he loved...and now, here he was again in the water and this time he would not survive.
And now the most tragic part of the story.
In recent years it's been speculated that some convoys were sent out merely as decoys to draw U-boats away from the precious troop transports...and it seems John's convoy was one of these.
As I understand it:
The "Boston" was no oceangoing vessel; it was a pleasure steamer that had formerly taken honeymooners on sunset cruises along the New England coast. Probably she should never have been on the North Atlantic in the first place. But everything that could float was needed to keep the flow of war materiel going - or so it was said.
Of all the ships that risked the Atlantic crossing during the war years, none were more important than the Cunard "Queens" - the Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary - that had been quickly stripped of their luxury fittings and converted into troopships that carried as many as 18,000 men at a time. Had one of them been lost, the cost both to the war effort and morale would have been catastrophic.
Hence, convoys were sent out into waters known to be infested with U-boats to divert the enemy away from the irreplaceable Queens and other liners carrying men to the battle in Europe, including the Normandy invasion.
Sensitive, beautiful John - who loved so ardently and who stole his father's handkerchiefs for ascots - perhaps died just so that thousands of other men could make it safely across the cold, lonely Atlantic, many only to die themselves so Europe could be liberated.
I hope John and his handsome officer are sitting, arms around each other's shoulders, watching the most beautiful sunsets of all, together forever at last.
How I wish I had known him.