TALE OF THE MARBLE CHURCH
I was cycling from Abergele to Rhuddlan on a sunny afternoon in 1948,
when across the fields to my right I first saw the spire of the church at
Bodelwyddan. Bright fawn marble, lying against a cloudless blue sky.
Such a peaceful afternoon, and then my mind wandered back; back to
Khadakwasla, India 1942. I was on roving piequet guard on the lights
out turn, when my oppo asked if I ever passed the time on “stag” by
listening to the bedtime conversations in the bell tents.
We paused behind a tent and listened to one voice as a bloke was telling
his mates about this “marble church” near Rhyll. The bloke telling the
tale was a signaller named Dick Hynes, and I imagined myself standing
outside this church as he was telling the story, and deciding there and
then to look up the place on my return. He spoke of rows of Canadian
graves, of soldier’s killed in a mutiny at Kinmel camp after the first
World War, and said that officially they had died in the flu epidemic of
Well here was I, at Boddelwyddan, stood amongst the Canadian
gravestones and thinking back to the day we buried Dickie Hynes in
Burma in 1944.
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