Heesbeen, Netherlands

Flying Officer R.O Brigden, Pilot, Royal Airforce. 1st September 1944, Age 21 are the words inscribed on the only Commonwealth War grave in the churchyard of sleepy hamlet of Heesbeen, close by to Heusden. One of 18,265 identified Commonwealth war graves in the Netherlands.


Bob was only 16 when Britain declared war on Germany in 1939, and an 18 year old married man when he joined the Royal Airforce as a pilot in 1940. For awhile he was flying a  Douglas A-20 Havoc or "Boston bomber" over France dropping leaflets but in 1942 he was transferred to Malta, flying a De Havilland Mosquito for eight months protecting the convoys and the island.

F/O Brigden

As his navigator, Tom Harris, wrote, "Bob and I completed 50 sorties. Closing down Italian/German Aerodromes to help the RAF Wellington bomber squadrons, canon fire into west coast electrical railway 
transformers, bombing or strafing fuel depots, army bases, etc. Eight hectic
months - we lost several good mates." 

In 1944 he returned to England as a flying instructor but, after D-Day, returned with his navigator, Tom Harris, to 605 (Intruder) Squadron in Manston, Kent flying a "Mosquito"over Luftwaffe bases in the Netherlands, destroying aircraft on the ground. It was on one of these operations that their plane was hit by anti-aircraft guns at Gilze-Rijen, near Breda. Warrant officer Tom Harris was able to parachute to safety but F/O Bob Brigden, 21, was unable to eject safely from the plane, as it was flying too low, and he died when the plane crashed near Heesbeen, leaving behind a wife and two young sons. Tom Harris was captured and taken to Poland as a prisoner-of-war and young Bob Brigden's body was buried by the local people in the churchyard of Heesbeen.

F/O Brigden

A sad story heard only to often when learning about WW2. What makes this story more personal is that Martin "googled" F/O Robert Brigden after visiting the grave recently and discovered, in all the information, an email address to a person he could only assume was a grandson of this fallen pilot. Taking a chance he made contact, just to say he had paid his respects to the F/O Brigden and back "pinged" an email saying that he was indeed the grandson and that he had been very touched that someone British had visited his grandfather's grave....something he, until now, had never had a chance to do. But, he was coming over this summer, with his son, to see the grave and meet with the son of the people who had found his grandfather's body, as it was 70 years on September 1st that his grandfather had crashed...would we like to meet up sometime?

So that is how we came to be spending the evening with Tony Brigden and his 12 year old son, Harry in the pub in Heusden. A lovely evening spent with two interesting people whom we had only connected with through the magic of the internet. Tony and Harry had spent a week's vacation together touring some historic sites, both WW1 and WW2, such as Arnhem, Dunkirk and Ieper, before coming here to Heusden. The following day they attended a two hour Dutch service at the tiny church where Tony's granddad and Harry's great granddad is buried, quite a challenge for any Brit, let alone a 12 year old! Then Kees van Everdingen, son of the local Dutch people who witnessed the crash, took them to the crash site, where they scattered poppy seeds in remembrance. Tony said that his grandmother had visited in the late1940's but had never really discussed her deceased husband's history, and it was only when Harry was born that he decided to find out more about his grandfather. As we chatted I couldn't help but think what a powerful history lesson Harry was getting. Not only had he visited places many kids only read about in history books, but he had made a connection with a great grandfather who had died to keep safe the Europe he was now growing up in. As Theodore Roosevelt said, "The more you know about the past, the better you are prepared for the future."

Heesbeen, Netherlands.

With many thanks to Tony & Harry Brigden.


http://www.basher82.nl/Data/eethen/brigden.htm

http://en.ww2awards.com/person/45378

http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=nl&u=http://www.bd.nl/regio/den-bosch-en-omgeving/heusden/bezoek-graf-opa-maakt-veel-emoties-los-bij-tony-brigden-1.4511218&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dtony%2Bbrigden%2Bheesbeen%26hl%3Den%26biw%3D1280%26bih%3D625

http://www.bd.nl/regio/den-bosch-en-omgeving/heusden/bezoek-graf-opa-maakt-veel-emoties-los-bij-tony-brigden-1.4511218?layout=switch

"Wake up, wake up, first day of school, first day of school," as Nemo says in Disney's Finding Nemo.
Summer vacation's over & all over the northern hemisphere parents and children have been facing the fact that school days are starting. Most children are starting their days with a groan and most parents are finding a small smile creeping onto their face! Apart from the parents who's kids are doing those monumental "firsts"...starting their first school, high school or starting that even bigger school, college.

I have been thinking a lot about that recently, as I observed friends photos on Facebook, of children donning school uniforms or standing bravely by a college dorm, and reflecting on what words of wisdom I could share having, "been there, done that." Honestly, the only thing I could come up with was, "don't blink, you'll miss their childhood!" I'm shocked to realize that it was 23 years ago that I first put my son, Thom, in uniform and waved goodbye to him at the classroom door! How did that happen! In those 23 years he's learned to read and write, had girlfriends, travelled around the world and gained a degree, all done in what seems to be a blink of the eye. My youngest child, Becky, started school in 1996, which takes on it's own enormity for a mother as the baby of the family clambers out of the nest, to explore.

When Thom started school he had a good day, although I spent those hours anguishing over whether he would eat his lunch, would he like his teacher more than me and would he make friends? Of course everything was fine although the following morning, when told to get ready he said, "I don't need to go to school today, I did that yesterday"! When Becky started school a dear friend invited me in for coffee, where I shed a tear or two on her shoulder, as I imagined my little baby cowering in the corner of school, hiding from a Trunchbull-like character, (as in the book Matilda by Roald Dahl)! Did that happen? No, she came skipping out with a new best-friend and a shiny book bag. You have the same feelings as you wave them off to university and college, fledging adults so assured and yet so vulnerable, their adult plumage still a little awkward on them. They also survived that transition, although it takes more faith from you, in their abilities, and your trust in them having learned from you about "good choices."

I can vaguely remember my own first days of school, although I mostly remember how high up the coat hooks were and a card game called Woodland Snap...for some strange reason those cards had a huge impact on me! I do remember a "big" girl being assigned to look out for me but have no memory of school lunches or even the teacher. Of course, my first school days were hardly "a blink of an eye" away I'm afraid to admit, but having worked as a classroom assistant I had the opportunity to re-new my "first day of school" for many years. I was never sure who was more crestfallen after the excitement of the first day wore off, and we realized we had to come back the next day, the teaching staff or the students!

Woodland Folk Snap, now an exhibit at the V & A museum, as it's so old!

So, I suppose my advice is as follows: trust your children, they will always love you even though the teacher is "awesome," thrill to the sight of your child loving to read and treasure the first time they write their name, cherish the stories of the school day and be ready with tissues when it doesn't go so well with the new friend, learn to use Skype so you can see that your college student is really eating, and rest assured that there rarely ever is a teacher like The Trunchbull.....well, hardly ever!

The Trunchbull, illustration by Quentin Blake