I stood on the railway platform

A lady took hold of my sleeve

‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere’

The train was preparing to leave

‘Are you from this town,’ she proffered

I gave her the name of my place

‘Old Frostie lives there. Do you know him?’

She hadn’t remembered my face

‘My Reg has set off for the Green Park’

The loco was gathering speed

‘I’ll do what I can to locate him ‘

I was watching her outline recede

The Royals had regally left us

I found Old Reg in the melee

Propped up by one of the Bronzes

Bewildered exhausted and grey

And when he enquired,’ Who are you?’

I thought it a bit infra dig

Not another one who doesn’t know me

Do they all think I’ve dropped off the twig?

He gathered his thoughts and remembered

Or perhaps he was being discreet

He’d hoped to meet up with his skipper

Who’d left for his VIP suite

We raised a toast in the ‘ Queen’s Larder’

Having made our way across town

To the fifty-plus thousand young fliers

Who had made the final touchdown

We drank to the Dutch, and the others

Who through us recovered their land

‘Twas the lads on the ground who won it

But we gave them a helping hand

The bronzes stand solemn and silent

Though they carry a knowing glance

Reflecting when bombers and fighters

Gave England her one fighting chance. 

Navigator, W/O. Gordon Frost, who attended the unveiling ceremony 2012 and wrote this regarding the event. Submitted to Aircrew Remembered by his friend, Carol Clewlow August 2012. We hope that Gordon will be sending us information and perhaps photographs on his wartime career. We would be proud to place a veterans page in his honour.