These Our Children is a book of verse by Flight Lieutenant, A.T.S.C. Richardson who is better known to some of us as Anthony Richardson (1899-1964) the author of many adventure books and the like. I had seen this little book on occasions over the years but always without the dust cover.
As with a number of Second World War poets, I admired Anthony’s work but was waiting until I came across a copy with a dust cover. As with all things, I eventually found one here in Hungerford in the Arcade. I must confess that I had not been diligent in my search and almost found this book of poetry by accident when looking for another book. What made this find even more interesting was that attached to its dust cover was a newspaper cutting dating from September 12th 1943.This was not unusual in itself as I quite frequently find newspaper cuttings in books. Some relate to the book in question and others are used as bookmarks.
The cutting contained three very short letters (it appeared that these had been sent to a national newspaper). The title that the newspaper had used for these letters was rather grim. Sweepstake on death.
The first letter was from the then Mayor of Malmesbury a Mr E.G. Grabham. Everyone with a grain of decency was horrified at the description given of the callous sweepstake in a public house on the number of bombers lost in the previous night’s Berlin raid. To the average individual this news always gives a thrill of profound admiration for the heroic Air Force and great sympathy for the relatives and friends of the men lost. It is hard to understand how British men can be capable of such deplorable taste.
The second letter was from six R.A.F Flight Sergeants. As a member of an air crew we take a very dim view of the sweepstake. If these people wish to take an active part in this “gamble” the R.A.F will be only too pleased to give them the opportunity. The final letter found was the saddest.
It was from a Mrs D.R.Ling who lived in Effingham Road in West Croydon.
When my husband–a flight sergeant missing over Germany five months ago-and the rest of his brave crew set out on that last journey they surely thought that prayers not bets were being offered for their lives.
Although I was well aware that that these things happened during wartime (both my parents had told me both good and bad stories of the conflict), I was a little shocked that this nature of gambling had taken place.But then again, I was one of the generation born in the years following the war and obviously never experienced these things first hand. If I had then maybe I might have become hardened to them. But it was still disturbing.
Strangely enough this was not the only enclosure in the book as tucked between the pages was a poem by Noel Coward copied out by the previous owner of the book a certain Anne Batley. I have yet to identify the actual poem but I think I know which one it is. Quite why Anne placed a poem of Noel’s in the book is open to question but she was obviously a woman of taste as Anthony’s poetry is quite fine.Here are the opening lines of his poem
Aerodrome Landscape.
Two gulls abreast against the breeze,
Four casual wings to swoop at ease,
Inconsequently in the air,
Superbly poised and balanced there!
If you have been tempted to look up Anthony’s work then These Our Children is a good place to start. You may not find a copy straight away but I do see them from time to time. If not there are copies available on the internet at reasonable prices.
What I cannot promise you is that you will find a cutting as I did in my book or a poem by Noel Coward. But you will enjoy the poetry which in its way is timeless and if you are lucky, the book might have retained its memorable blue and white dust cover. I only paid sixty pence for my book. The price of about half a cup of coffee in one of the nearby coffee houses in Hungerford. As you can see there are still bargains to be found.
The first letter was from the then Mayor of Malmesbury a Mr E.G. Grabham. Everyone with a grain of decency was horrified at the description given of the callous sweepstake in a public house on the number of bombers lost in the previous night’s Berlin raid. To the average individual this news always gives a thrill of profound admiration for the heroic Air Force and great sympathy for the relatives and friends of the men lost. It is hard to understand how British men can be capable of such deplorable taste.
Strangely enough this was not the only enclosure in the book as tucked between the pages was a poem by Noel Coward copied out by the previous owner of the book a certain Anne Batley. I have yet to identify the actual poem but I think I know which one it is. Quite why Anne placed a poem of Noel’s in the book is open to question but she was obviously a woman of taste as Anthony’s poetry is quite fine. Here are the opening lines of his poem