TheBanyanTree: In the midst of life . .

[Roger Pye]

ENGLAND.--John 19, Lance Corporal Scots Guards, 28 May 1944, Monte 
Piccolo and Denys 26, Captain MC., Royal Engineers, 21 August 1944 near 
Pesaro. Lovingly remembered by all their cousins.

28 May 2004


___________________


I never met Denys and John whose mother was my aunt - I was only five in 
1944 - but they have figured large in my life from time to time. The 
Military Cross Denys earned is in my safekeeping and their names I shall 
never forget.

John was killed in an assault on Monte Piccolo in Italy. In the way in 
which things are disordered in wartime Denys Martin England did not hear 
of his brother's death until 21st August, he volunteered to lead a night 
patrol that evening from which he did not return.

In 1964 when my wife Susan was pregnant with our second child, we 
decided that if it was a boy we would name him John Martin after my 
cousins. At that time I was stationed at RAF Biggin Hill in Kent, 
England, we lived in a cold and cramped married quarter across the road 
from the base and the baby was to be born there. Sue went into heavy 
labour about 9pm 1st July under the watchful eye and ministrations of 
the local midwife. By 3am when the actual delivery began she was pretty 
well exhausted then when the head appeared from the birth channel 
everything stopped. "I think I will wait for the doctor," the midwife 
said, having phoned him from the callbox across the street half and hour 
before.

I couldn't see what was happening or rather what was not happening 
because I was sitting at the head of the bed holding Sue's hands as I 
had been doing for several hours. I forget the name of the gas she was 
receiving from a mask, but I do remember she was in and out of 
consciousness.

The doctor arrived and the baby was delivered. Sue half sat up, said 
"It's a boy, isn't it?" "Yes," the doctor replied. Then she said "He's 
dead, isn't he?" Again the answer was 'Yes!'.

I was shocked out of my system, it was the last thing I had expected to 
hear. The next few hours passed by as though I was labouring in a heavy 
fog, one which matched the real pea-souper outside. Fortunately Sue 
slept through it all.

At 9am a little blue unmarked van drew up outside the house. A young man 
dressed in ordinary work clothes got out and came to the door. When I 
opened it he said he had come for the baby as arranged by the midwife. I 
directed him upstairs and some little itme later he came down with a 
brown paper parcel tied with string under his arm, smiled politely and 
went on his way.

John Martin Pye was never christened. Two days later he was buried in a 
grave marked only by a number in the Biggin Hill cemetery at the same 
time as a 'regular' interment was happening near by. Neither Sue nor I 
were present though she has been to visit since.

I think about this child quite often, particularly when I hear of the 
death of another infant. I remember him lying on a coloured towel on the 
bed upstairs from where he was born, how peaceful he was in death and 
how beautiful he looked. A perfect child, it seemed. Except that the 
appearance was illusion. In fact, there had been a placental deficiency 
and his bone structure was severely incomplete; he did not, could not, 
survive the birth process.

The ways of nature are awesome. Conception does not happen lightly but 
neither does the ending of the life cycle, there have to be good reasons 
for that to happen.



woodcat