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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Tap tap boom… sheep scattered like shrapnel Brian Dunn’s instant memorial smoke rose from his peaty wet death hole, roots lumps of peat and ling fell like black roses over his body and the blood splattered fan of shattered gritstone Three lads Sunday walk, October 1950 Derrick Shaw’s lower arm was brast away tapping the mortar bomb on the wall, saying “perhaps this one will go…..” his life and army training wasted, he survived a fortnight Fun was blown out of Brian Boreham’s life aged 14 witnessing the nasty death and maiming; badly injured and stunned off his feet, he dealt with peacetime battlefield horrors Split second ear-bleeding noise, blinding flame front massive air overpressure blast and burning bone breaking shrapnel Silent mundane looking ordnance, inflicting instant long-term trauma young Brian’s tearless mourner, his dog Molly sniffed his blackened cooling remains and torn clothing, wagging her tail whining, stopping and returning several times - to confirm he was extinct The lethal incident was raised in parliament there was no human enemy in Pendle’s long war munitions and tank trap targets shattered shards still remain After live firing practice the hill was twice declared safe but a mortar’s boom still cracked Pendle’s silence resonating around two families - for decades Where the WW2 troops were stationed at Brogden farm an overt regiment of tank traps stand to attention roadside another unit laid prone in a mass grave, dam a Sabden lodge holding waters drained through the dark deadly ground inert unknown markers of Pendle’s unseen war waiting - for a Heritage blue plaque medal.
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