Subs, Vets and Balloonists

I worked from home today. As much as I love going into the centre, I didn’t like the idea of leaving the dogs on their own two days in a row (we have the air show tomorrow). And so we sat at the dining table and I researched the heroes of Farnham while Freya slept (mostly) on my lap and Emma spoke to everyone who walked by the house.

My research uncovered some interesting things. For me anyway.

Like the sad history of HM Submarine E.18 which mysteriously disappeared in the Baltic in 1916. The submariner I was researching was Clement Harry Edwards, a telegraph operator and had been since joining the navy in around 1910.

E.18 was built in 1915 and sent off on her first mission alongside sister ship E.19. They were immediately in the thick of it, heading north and continually diving in order to avoid being attacked by German destroyers.

Eventually they settled down in the port of Reval (now Tallinn in Estonia), going out on patrol, avoiding German ships and mines and generally keeping watch over the shipping lanes. She almost fired on a number of enemy ships but for various reasons her torpedo tubes remained unused.

Their final journey saw the sub simply vanish without a trace and it wasn’t until 2009 that she was found on the seabed off the coast of Hiiumaa, Estonia. Her hatch was open which may indicate that she had struck a mine while on the surface.

I assume someone will work out what happened with sufficient funding but, until then, E.18 remains a watery memorial to her crew.

Another chap I researched, Owen Fry, was in a Balloon Training School. His death was not during action overseas. I have been unable to discover how he died…or why. I’ve read that there were a few instances of people falling out of tethered hot air balloons. They would panic when enemy aircraft came near and just jump out of the basket.

Other casualties occurred when the big barrage balloons crashed to the earth with their metal cables killing the observers on the ground. This usually happened when an aircraft flew into them which added the plane to the falling debris. It was all a bit risky.

I felt a bit sorry for the chap I was researching because he was 44, had been basically a labourer all his life and joined the war in 1918, heading straight for the balloon school. He was married and had three small children. Did he have some ballooning skill not recorded anywhere? It’s all very mysterious and there will probably never be any answers. Mind you, late in the war the conscription age was raised to include men under 51 so it might have been that he had to.

Another mysterious death was that of Ambrose James Foot. He was serving in the Royal Army Veterinary Corps, stationed in Yorkshire. At some point he was transferred to a military hospital in Southampton (nicknamed the Palace of Pain) and then shortly afterwards died at home. Again, there’s no indication of how he died or why.

It was all a bit mysterious and sometimes frustrating. Still it was lovely working with the big doors open and the garden looking lush and lovely. It was not as hot as it has been so was quite comfortable in the extension.

Of course we went for a walk at lunchtime and, late in the afternoon, Mirinda came home.

All in all, it was quite a lovely day, topped off with a yummy dinner of walnut, dill and lemon crusted salmon on roasted veg.

Before I finish, there is one thing I really have to report.

A while ago we had the incident of the rogue gardener who cut down all of our fledgling hollyhocks. Mirinda was furious and we still have no idea why he did it. Anyway, we returned from France to find that he hadn’t managed to actually kill them and, although not as full and dense as usual, they have survived and are now full of delightful colour.

And, finally, I am quite impressed with the size of our fennel. I’ve used Freya for scale.