'What time is it Si?' 'It's something after midnight Gramps...' In the pitch black I see you 'LARGER than life' (a somehow appropriate metaphor these days...) As I look up through my eyelids at you, gravity tugs hot tears of pain down each cheek & into each ear. (actually that gets pretty irritating after a while...) Still, Staccato as my thoughts are, I remember you with such pride... I see you playing floodlit croquet with me at age 11(ish).. I hear you reading Kalhil Gibran with such passion as I hold the trembling hand of my beautiful wife-to-be, I feel the tender touch of your love, as you hold little Jazzy, delicately caressing her 3 month old skin.. Then I recall your emailed conversations with Zeta.. She: inviting you (her hero) to come an bounce with her on her new trampoline.. you: warmly appreciative of her kind invitation, but gently suggesting that mexican dominoes may be slightly more appropriate... Your ebullient cry force a smile on my face,, 'A WICKET !' I recall the unrestrained boyish joy we shared during our penultimate day together, when Flintoff's direct hit ousts Ricky Ponting and begins England's charge towards a famous Ashes victory!.... It is still something after midnight... My devoted Grampy.. A huge inspiration, Unfailingly committed in your search for truths (spiritual & otherwise)... Wonderfully unfettered in your love and acceptance of people.... A song drifts into my head, and I welcome another session of music therapy. This time a song I heard just before my 17th birthday.. I love you Grampy Si..xxx.. ____________________________________________________________________ I took to your father the moment I met him at your wedding, and would love to have met him much earlier, and indeed sought his counsel. He was in every way a model of what a fine and honourable man should be. I especially valued and admired the fact that he was still fully ready to revise and rethink. Yours most sincerely, Dafydd and Fay Wales ____________________________________________________________ Thank You so much for informing of this sad occasion, Peter came into my life from extensive research on my 1st cousin once removed who was a dutch aviator who flew his last mission with Peter, when he was reported lost, and crashed near Dover on Auust 17th 1944. Peter had his picture of Rijklof "Charlie" Van Goens in his book "Skypilot" he so graciously signed and send to me. We e-mailed on several occasions, and my partner in research Rob Philips went to visit Peter, and they spoke extensively. Thanks to Peter the record was set straight that my cousin was shot down by friendly fire (AA guns) and not that he ran out of gas as reported by RAF records. Peter and Rijklof Van Goens set out that fateful day to battle incoming doodlebugs (V1 German selfguided bombs) but the weather was really bad and they could not get any visuals, they aborted the mission and returned to another base. Somehow Rijklof passed above the anti aircraft guns as they were shooting at the Doodlebug and was hit. Peter told us of my cousins last frantic messages in dutch, which he did not understand. It was a great honour for me to have met such a great person as Peter, he was a link to a past that absorbed me, even when I never met my cousin, he made me understand the person he was. I wish to convey my condolences to the whole family, Peter will be sorely missed. Thank You, God Bless Peter Huender Holland _____________________________________________________________ I only got in contact with your father very recently, namely in August this year. One month before I had co-led the excavation by our Belgian aviation archaeology team of a Spitfire of 41 Squadron that had been shot down over West Flanders on 19 September 1943. On that day your father had been in action with 41 Squadron as well and he was so kind to answer my questions I had asked him via e-mail. His reply as well as his photo were and still are intended to be taken up in our next year's exhibition about this excavation and the events of 19 September 1943. I will also appreciate his prompt and kind enthusiasm to help me in my research. I must admit that I did not expect him to pass away so suddenly. A unique husband and (great grand)father can never be replaced but I am sure he will keep inspiring your family and so many friends and acquaintances. I wish your family courage. Sincerely Yours, Dirk Decuypere Belgium ____________________________________________________________________ I met Peter earlier this year at Bolt Head and had a most interesting conversation with him about 41 Squadron as my father was also a pilot who flew spitfires in 41 Squadron - but earlier in the Battle of Britain. I was struck by his sense of humour and his vivid recollections of the conflict and period of captivity. Although the conversation was brief, after dinner at the hotel, I count it as a treasured moment - his warmth and kindness shone through to me - a complete stranger. It was an honour to meet him and I feel privileged that I had the opportunity to have a conversation with him. I am sure he is flying once again. Sincere wishes John Shipman Bedfordshire ___________________________________________________________________ I am very sorry to hear of the passing of your father Peter....he was a neat guy and I enjoyed meeting and renewing our friendships from the 80s when he was priest at St. Ambrose, here in Claremont, California, I bet he has friends from all over the globe! ( certainly does - PG) Thank you for including me in the mailing. Love, Marcy ____________________________________________________________________ My late husband, Herb Wagner, who died 4 years ago of kidney failure, and your father served together in the RAF (Herb was one of the few Americans on the squadron),and they kept up via email for many years. We saw your father at a reunion many years ago. Herb always spoke so highly of your father and told me many wonderful RAF stories about him. Brooke Wagner , USA (editors note: Herb was the long serving POW mentioned in previous blog entry comments from 41 Sqaudron history compiler, Steve Brew, - they became great friends in Prison camp.) _____________________________________________________________________ What sad news about Uncle Peter, who holds a very special place in all our hearts. I have such fond memories of him and Sylvia here on the farm, rowing the boat on the river, visiting the people in the compound, joining in with the Christmas spirit at Ngenile, just being himself - no judging ever, even with the Randells, who as you know are not the most devout lot! Baptising Alexandra Barbara Randell at Petra and performing the blessing for Dad and Pam on the very same day, a day never to be forgotten. We still have the candle he gave us, kept specially for Abby as a reminder of that day. We have lovely memories of him on our trip to England, at Charlie's cottage, when they brought us lunch - and we then visited the nearby castle. All the children remember him fondly - as we do. Rest in peace Uncle Peter, we won't forget you! Uncle Peter really was a most special and unique person, with charm and compassion, and a smile that I will never forget. God bless, Lots of love Frances, Mark, Katie, Simon, Charlie and Abby (Southern Africa) _________________________________ I only met Peter once quite recently at a birthday celebration at Simon and Belle's house in the Peak District. As an ex-member of 41(F) Squadron from an altogether more recent and less dramatic era, I was left with the impression of his timeless sense of fun. The simple, understated way he related stories of his time served was both fascinating and humbling. We left the party both realising we had met someone truly special. God bless and our thoughts are with you all. Comment from: Jon and Amanda Hewitt [Visitor] I, like Pat above, only met Peter the once, on that same afternoon at Simon and Bel's house in the Peak District. A very striking man and yet a very personable one; I notice here that more than one or two folk who met Peter just the once or twice feel compelled to write something of him - surely the mark of a truly great man and hero. For myself, and as another aviator, the most fitting words I kind find were penned during WWII by one of Peter's fellow Spitfire pilots, I add them here in case they might touch others and enable them to draw some solace from these wonderful words, for Peter surely did, and is now, touching the face of God: High Flight Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . . Up, up the long, delirious burning blue I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or ever eagle flew — And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. — Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr __________________________________________________ Such sad news. Peter was a lovely, lovely person whom I feel so privileged to have known. Such fun to be with. We shared a love of crosswords - though he was better than me of course. Much love to you all, especially Sylvia. Angie - cousin-in-law! from Pat's brother...Tony "Hole in the world" Just gone noon the cocks are crowing A pot of late raspberries carried in the wrong hands I'll need your help to mend the study light he'd said. I sit in his chair between brother and mother, lie awake in bed in the dark of his dressing room. The coldness of his forehead shocks my lips. His grey-silver hair smells of bonfire smoke. A hole in the world