Weeks & Dewey 70th Anniversary Commemoration

On 5 May 2012 David Earle witnessed a moving ceremony in Ryde Cemetery when local firefighters paid tribute to two former firefighters who lost their lives 70 years ago.

The group met just before 10am at the adjacent graves of Colin Henry Weeks and Herbert James Dewey. At 10am the Service personnel stood at ease and Crew Manager Corr read the following tribute:

We parade here today to honour and respect both the service given and the lives lost of two of Ryde’s wartime firefighters, Fireman Colin Weeks and Leading Fireman Herbert Dewey of National Fire Service Division 14d.

It is hard for us, firefighters and residents of Ryde in 2012, to picture this place, this town and the island as it would have been seen by Colin, Herbert and their colleagues seventy years ago when Germany launched the most ferocious aerial attack that the Isle of Wight has ever suffered seventy years ago this morning.

Fireman Colin Weeks provides us with some evidence of the almost unbelievable conditions in which Ryde’s residents of the 1940s lived when he wrote in his diary of Saturday 23 November 1940.

At twenty to seven the first stick of bombs, together with thousands of incendiaries had fallen on an extensive area reaching from Appley Farm to the foot of East Hill Road causing fires at numerous private residences including one bomb which practically gutted St John’s Lodge.

Just before eight o’clock another incoming let go a further load of incendiaries and high explosive bombs in the direction of Ashey.

We learnt a lot that night, so did the general public. With the advent of the blitzkrieg the firemen of London and the other big cities who suffered so badly had become national heroes, but we in Ryde were not fully conscious of modern aerial warfare until that night. The public still regarded us as three pound a week draft dodgers and we were often referred to as the army of dart players. Overnight the position changed and we were proud to walk the streets of Ryde in fire service uniforms.

By the time Colin was 19 years old he was continuing to write his war diary and on the evening of Monday 4 May 1942 had sat at his typewriter in Edward Street station to continue writing, having earlier in the day received the news from his best friend Herbert Dewey that he was engaged to be married. Enemy bombers were already crossing the Channel when Colin sat to carry on his description of an earlier night of action and he wrote.

I was immediately ordered to Bettesworth Road as a messenger to the crew. So off I went dead slow for the machine wasn’t running any too well now. I naturally thought the quickest way to get to get to the school would be by going down Church Street, but I reckoned without the debris which I found there. I made my way panting and sweating down the street pulling my machine over the glass and . . .

Before Colin could finish this sentence he, along with his best friend Herbert and all civil defence workers island-wide was called to the hell on earth that was burning on either side of the mouth of the Medina, the chaos which became known as the Cowes Blitz.

Colin and Herbert alongside so many heroes in different uniforms and civilians too applied themselves fearlessly to the task of fighting fires, locating casualties from collapsed buildings and sadly recovering many lifeless bodies too. As midnight passed and May 5th began the airborne raiders withdrew and a few hours later Colin and Herbert were permitted a moment to rest and take refreshments from the Women’s Voluntary Service mobile canteen.

With no warning and unable to hear above the roar of the flames and the thumping of fire appliance engines and pumps, Colin and Herbert were unaware of an incoming second wave of attack until the first stick of bombs struck the spot where they stood. They were killed instantly.

We the firefighters of Ryde, seventy years after these tragic deaths amid a scene beyond our comprehension, salute you Leading Fireman Herbert Dewey and Fireman Colin Weeks.

The parade was called to attention and observed a minute’s silence. Then bagpipers played Amazing Grace and posies of flowers were placed on both graves.

Brother when you weep for me, remember this was meant to be
Lay me down but when you leave, remember I’ll be at your sleeve
In every dark and choking hall, I’ll be there as you slowly crawl.
Beneath the layer of heated smoke, a hand on your shoulder so you will know
In rooms so hot with searing heat, in windows where the black you meet
In closets where the young may hide, you know I’ll be there at your side.
The station from which I now respond, is overstaffed with heroes gone
The men who answered one last bell, and battled but lost to a living hell.
As firemen we all understand, that death’s a card hidden in our pack
A card we hope to never play, but one that’s there both night and day
That card is something we ignore, as we crawl across the smoke-logged floor
For we know we’re the only prayer, for anyone who might be there
Recall and smile as you wipe your tears, the joy I’ve known throughout my years
I did a job I was proud to do, and I pray that thought will see you through.

At 10:10 the service finished.

Photograph by David Earle.