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History - those who came before, Coopers Hill Lane Englefield Green, Egham (2026)

11/09/2026

“For more than 80 years, the shattered remains of this German fighter lay buried beneath Malta — its wartime story almost forgotten.”

On 1 April 1942, Malta was enduring one of the most intense periods of the aerial siege.

Among the Luftwaffe fighters operating over the island that evening was a Messerschmitt Bf 109 of 5./Jagdgeschwader 3, flown by Unteroffizier Hans Pilz.

His aircraft was “Black 11” — Werknummer 8668.

Flying at very low level during the fighting over Malta, Pilz's Messerschmitt was hit by anti-aircraft fire.

He managed to bring the damaged fighter down in a wheat field near Rahal Gdid — Paola.

The landing was violent.

The Bf 109 overturned, trapping Pilz inside.

Local people rushed towards the wreck and helped free the German pilot. Unlike so many airmen fighting above Malta during those desperate months, Pilz had survived.

He was taken prisoner of war.

The aircraft itself had a very different fate.

Its wreckage was eventually broken up, with substantial sections disappearing beneath the ground among other wartime aircraft debris.

And there it remained.

Until February 2023.

During excavation work at St Vincent de Paul, aircraft wreckage began emerging from around two metres beneath the surface.

Then investigators noticed something extraordinary.

A number was still visible on the metal:

W.Nr. 8668.

More than eight decades after it had fallen from Malta's skies, Hans Pilz's Messerschmitt had been identified again.

Today, its battered wing and fuselage are preserved at the Malta Aviation Museum at Ta' Qali — not rebuilt to disguise what happened to them, but preserved as surviving pieces of the air war fought above the island.

The twisted metal in this footage isn't a replica.

It flew over Malta in April 1942.

And somehow, more than 80 years later, part of it is still here.

11/09/2026

James “Jimmy” Hill survived the firefight that ended his Special Forces career — then rebuilt his life by helping others recover.

In December 2013, Hill was serving with the Special Boat Service in Afghanistan when his team became locked in a firefight around a cave complex.

Alongside him was his military working dog, Zero.

Zero was killed.

Then the bullets hit Hill.

Five rounds struck his legs. Another hit his helmet. One shattered his hip; another passed through his sciatic nerve, leaving lasting damage below the knee.

Badly wounded, Hill managed to crawl away, falling down the mountainside as he tried to get clear.

His SBS teammates fought their way out, placed him on a stretcher and remained under fire while waiting for helicopter evacuation.

By Christmas Eve, he was back in Britain. On Christmas Day, surgeons operated.

It was the beginning of years of treatment.

Hill underwent 16 operations. His hip failed to heal properly, nerve damage left him with permanent mobility problems, and his military career was eventually brought to an end.

But rehabilitation gave him a new direction.

At Headley Court, hydrotherapy allowed him to move in water in ways that were impossible on land.

That experience stayed with him.

Hill had grown up around dogs and worked with them during his military service. In civilian life, he turned what had helped him recover into a new purpose — founding Pawseidon, a canine rehabilitation, hydrotherapy and training centre.

He could have returned to overseas security work.

Instead, after years away on operations, he chose to stay close to his wife and children and build something different.

James “Jimmy” Hill had served as a Royal Marine, passed UK Special Forces selection and become an SBS operator.

After Afghanistan changed his body and ended his operational career, he found a way to turn recovery into service again.

Today, James continues that work.

Beside his story remains the memory of Zero — the military working dog killed alongside him in Afghanistan.

Respect to James “Jimmy” Hill for the life he rebuilt.

And in memory of Zero.

Lest We Forget.

11/09/2026

🌺 “Tom used to joke that nobody would come to his funeral. Yesterday, hundreds came to prove just how wrong he was.”

Yesterday, 10 September 2026, police officers, soldiers, veterans and members of the public gathered in Redcar to say their final goodbye to PC Tom Clough.

Tom was just 38 years old.

His coffin, draped in the Union Flag with his police helmet resting on top, travelled slowly towards Kirkleatham Walled Gardens.

Hundreds of officers lined Plantation Road.

Standard bearers representing police forces across the country lowered their flags as his hearse passed.

Soldiers in ceremonial dress and veterans wearing their medals walked alongside a man who had worn two uniforms during a lifetime devoted to serving others.

Because before Tom became a police officer, he was a soldier.

He joined the British Army in 2006 and served for six years, rising to Lance Corporal in the Royal Logistic Corps.

He saw active service in Iraq and Afghanistan and finished his Army career with 11 Explosive Ordnance Disposal and Search Regiment — men and women whose work involves confronting some of the most dangerous threats imaginable.

When Tom left the Army in 2012, his service didn’t end.

He joined the Civil Nuclear Constabulary in 2013, serving as an Authorised Fi****ms Officer at Sellafield in Cumbria.

During his time there he became a Temporary Sergeant, trained in dynamic search, served with the Interdiction Team, worked as a Police Medic and qualified as an Operational Fi****ms Commander.

He later served with British Transport Police before eventually joining Cleveland Police, where he became an armed response officer.

Different uniforms.

Different organisations.

The same purpose — protecting other people.

On 22 August 2026, Tom and his colleague PC Matthew Blades were travelling in a marked armed response vehicle when they were involved in a devastating head-on collision on the A66 at South Bank, near Middlesbrough.

Both officers lost their lives.

Tom’s family described him as their hero — a man with a fantastic sense of humour who would jump into action whenever he was needed and help anyone, for any reason.

Former colleagues remembered something else alongside his professionalism.

His personality.

His cheeky nature. His wit. His ability to walk into a room and lift the spirits of those around him.

And away from the uniforms and the dangerous jobs, there was simply Tom.

A much-loved partner.

A son.

A brother.

And the devoted “father” of his beloved sausage dog, Frank.

Tom apparently used to tell his partner that he didn’t think anybody would turn up to his funeral.

If only he could have seen Redcar yesterday.

The police officers standing shoulder to shoulder.

The soldiers and veterans.

The lowered standards.

The members of the public who came simply because they wanted his family to know that his service mattered.

For almost his entire adult life, Tom Clough served.

First his country.

Then his communities.

Yesterday, they came together to serve him one final time — by standing silently and saying goodbye.

PC Tom Clough
Cleveland Police
Former Lance Corporal, Royal Logistic Corps
Former Civil Nuclear Constabulary & British Transport Police
Died on duty, 22 August 2026
Aged 38

Lest We Forget. 🌺

11/09/2026

🌺 “Unarmed and facing a terrorist armed with two knives, PC Keith Palmer stepped forward — and placed himself between the attacker and Parliament.” 🌺

On 22 March 2017, Khalid Masood drove into pedestrians on Westminster Bridge before crashing outside the Palace of Westminster and running through Carriage Gates.

PC Keith Palmer was on duty there.

He had no firearm.

As Masood entered New Palace Yard carrying two knives, Keith stepped forward and challenged him.

He was attacked and stabbed in the chest.

Even after receiving wounds that would prove fatal, Keith managed to get back to his feet and tried to pursue the attacker.

He made several steps before his injuries overwhelmed him.

Those moments mattered.

His resistance bought precious time for other officers to react. The official citation for his George Medal later concluded that Keith’s actions had unquestionably saved lives.

Before Westminster, Keith had already spent years serving others.

He had served in the Royal Artillery, reaching the rank of Bombardier, before joining the Metropolitan Police in 2001.

He went on to serve in Bromley and the Territorial Support Group, where in one twelve-month period he made more than 150 arrests.

But behind the uniform was a husband and a father.

Keith was 48 years old.

He left behind his wife, Michelle, and their five-year-old daughter, Amy.

At his funeral, the hearse carried a floral tribute reading:

“No 1 Daddy.”

Keith was later awarded the George Medal for confronting an armed terrorist to protect others and Parliament.

His shoulder number, 4157U, was permanently retired by the Metropolitan Police.

At Carriage Gates, where he stood his ground, a memorial now bears his name.

Keith Palmer is not remembered simply because of a medal or a memorial.

He is remembered because, when danger came through the gate, he stepped forward to confront it — unarmed — and gave others the time they needed.

A police officer. A husband. A father.

PC Keith David Palmer GM.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

10/09/2026

🌺 Three days after turning 20, Guardsman Jamie Shadrake was standing alone at a sentry post in Afghanistan when an insurgent attack erupted around him.

It was his first operational tour.

Jamie was serving with the Reconnaissance Platoon of the 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards in Helmand — a role that placed him ahead of much of the normal front line, operating where small-arms fire and improvised explosive devices were persistent dangers.

On 17 August 2012, British forces received a warning that an attack was imminent.

As that warning was being passed over the radio, the attack began.

Small-arms fire.

Grenades.

Gunfire and explosions from more than one direction.

The engagement lasted around a minute.

Jamie was alone at his sentry position when he was struck by gunfire, believed to have come from a road roughly 50 metres away.

His injuries were such that his death was instantaneous.

He was just 20 years and three days old.

Only three years earlier, Jamie had joined the Army at 17. He had gone from ceremonial duties guarding the Royal Palaces to earning a place in the Grenadier Guards' Reconnaissance Platoon.

His commanders believed he was already close to becoming a junior NCO.

He never got that chance.

His family said he was proud to be a soldier, that he loved the Army, and that they were proud of his willingness to serve the people of Afghanistan.

Jamie Shadrake did not have the chance to build a long military career.

But in the short time he served, he had already earned the respect of his commanders, won a place in an elite reconnaissance platoon and shown the potential to lead others.

On 17 August 2012, that future was taken from him while he was serving on the front line.

Guardsman Jamie Shadrake, 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards.

20 years old.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

10/09/2026

🌺 “James Holloway spent years chasing one dream — to earn the green beret. He achieved it, and then died on his very first overseas deployment.” 🌺

Becoming a Royal Marine had been James’s ambition since childhood.

He began training at Lympstone in November 2015, but the road to earning the green beret was not straightforward. Injuries interrupted his progress more than once, yet he kept going until he finally achieved the goal he had carried for years.

James joined 42 Commando at Bickleigh and quickly made an impression.

He was exceptionally fit, highly motivated and always keen to improve. He took notes, asked questions and threw himself into training. Shortly before deploying, he had been singled out as a top performer during rural training.

His fellow Marines knew him as “Barrel”, a nickname linked to his powerful build, but they also remembered his humour, warmth and energy.

Then came the deployment he had worked so hard for.

In October 2017, James sailed aboard RFA Fort Rosalie on Operation Kipion in the Middle East. It was his first overseas deployment.

On 30 October, while the ship was berthed in Dubai, James was found dead aboard Fort Rosalie. He was just 25.

A later inquest concluded that he had died by su***de. The coroner did not find the Royal Navy or Royal Marines at fault.

James’s military career was short, but he had already made his mark. He had fought through setbacks to earn the green beret he had dreamed of wearing, and once he became a Marine, he kept pushing himself to be better.

His family remembered a bright, funny, warm and kind son and brother. His fellow Marines remembered the energy, humour and determination he brought with him.

Marine James Oliver Roe Holloway
42 Commando Royal Marines

He achieved the dream he had carried since childhood — and that is how he deserves to be remembered.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

10/09/2026

🌺 On his first operational tour, Marine Craig Buchanan held his fire while bullets tore into his patrol — because firing too soon could have killed his own men.

On 24 October 2012, Buchanan was serving with 40 Commando Royal Marines in Helmand Province when an eight-person patrol was attacked at close range.

Two of his comrades, Corporal David O’Connor and Corporal Channing Day, were fatally wounded.

Buchanan could not immediately fire back.

His own men were in or near his line of fire, and dust from the gunfire made the scene difficult to see. Instead of firing blindly, he waited until he could be certain he would not hit one of his own.

Then he moved towards the danger.

He placed himself between the advancing gunman and the rest of the patrol, waited for a clear shot, and killed the principal attacker.

But his job was not finished.

With reports that a second gunman might still be nearby, Buchanan went straight to a wounded Marine and began giving first aid, staying with him until the Medical Emergency Response Team arrived.

His actions saved lives and prevented the situation from escalating further.

For what he did that day, Buchanan was awarded the Military Cross.

Yet when he received the medal at Buckingham Palace in 2014, he made sure one of the men who had died was there with him in spirit: inside his hat, he carried a photograph of David O’Connor.

He never treated the medal as his alone. He pointed instead to those who had fallen and to the men who had stood beside him that day.

That is why Craig Buchanan’s story is one of pride.

Pride in discipline under fire. Pride in loyalty to his comrades. Pride in doing what had to be done when lives depended on it.

A Royal Marine who, in the worst of moments, put his comrades first.

We honour what Craig Buchanan did — and remember Corporal David O’Connor and Corporal Channing Day, who never came home.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

09/09/2026

🌺 “Today, PC Matthew Blades Was Carried on His Final Journey — Beneath the Union Flag, as Hundreds Lined the Streets to Say Goodbye” 🌺

Today, Hartlepool said goodbye to PC Matthew Blades.

Just over two weeks ago, Matthew left his wife and two young sons to go to work.

He never came home.

This morning, the 37-year-old Cleveland Police officer made his final journey through the town he called home — his coffin draped in the Union Flag, while hundreds of police officers, emergency service colleagues and members of the public stood silently along the route.

On the roof of his hearse was perhaps the simplest and most heartbreaking tribute of all.

Three letters made from flowers:

DAD.

Matthew was killed in the early hours of 22 August 2026 alongside his colleague, PC Tom Clough, when the marked Armed Response Vehicle they were travelling in was struck on the A66 at South Bank by a Volkswagen Passat travelling the wrong way along the carriageway.

Matthew and Tom were simply doing their job — serving and protecting the public — when their lives were taken.

But the uniform was only one part of Matthew’s story.

Before becoming a police officer, he had been an English teacher at Carmel College in Darlington, remembered as intelligent, kind and approachable.

Away from work, football was another enormous part of his life.

He coached youngsters with FC Hartlepool and had recently joined Seaton Carew FC, where he was preparing to coach the new Under-7 Seahawks team.

Among those young players was his own little boy.

Matthew was looking forward to coaching his son.

A moment between father and child which should have become another chapter in their lives together.

Instead, today, his two boys had to say goodbye to their dad.

Matthew’s wife described him following his death as her beloved husband, best friend and the most devoted father to their children.

Today she remembered the laughter, the silly jokes and the man who could make people smile when they least expected it — “the joker of the family.”

As Matthew’s cortege approached St Joseph’s Roman Catholic Church, standard bearers representing police forces from across the United Kingdom lowered their flags.

Four pipers and a drummer walked before the hearse.

Then, as Matthew’s Union Flag-covered coffin was carried towards the church, the sound of Amazing Grace filled the air.

Police officers stood shoulder to shoulder along Hutton Avenue.

Some embraced one another before the service.

Hundreds of ordinary people came simply because they wanted Matthew’s family to know that his sacrifice had not been forgotten.

Today was the ceremonial farewell of a police officer.

But for one family, it was something infinitely more personal.

A wife said goodbye to her husband.

Two little boys said goodbye to their dad.

Parents said goodbye to their son.

Friends and colleagues said goodbye to the man whose humour and laughter they loved.

And a community said goodbye to one of its own.

PC Matthew Blades
Cleveland Police
Husband. Dad. Son. Brother. Teacher. Coach. Police Officer.
Killed in the line of duty — 22 August 2026
Aged 37

🌺 Rest in peace, Matthew. Your duty is done. Lest We Forget. 🌺

09/09/2026

Squadron Leader Rimon Than spent his career preparing to help people in some of the hardest places imaginable — and after his death, the lessons from the tragedy that killed him helped make others safer.

On 14 February 2013, Rimon was climbing in the Cairngorms with an RAF Mountaineering Association party when a large avalanche swept through Chalamain Gap.

He was buried beneath the snow alongside Flight Lieutenant Fran Capps and 18-year-old William Currie.

All three died.

For Rimon, the mountains were never simply a hobby.

He was an RAF doctor, Senior Medical Officer at RAF Valley and a valued member of its Mountain Rescue Team. He had developed specialist expertise in pre-hospital, expedition and mountain medicine, earned the Diploma in Mountain Medicine, and taught others remote first aid and emergency procedures.

He was also an experienced high-altitude mountaineer and expedition leader.

Just 73 days before his death, he had stood on the 5,672-metre summit of Wupingfeng in Sichuan after a severe winter ascent in temperatures that fell to around −22°C.

Then came Chalamain Gap.

The tragedy led to a formal RAF Service Inquiry and 25 safety recommendations. RAF mountaineering procedures were revised, wider RAF sports safety governance was strengthened, and important changes followed in avalanche-risk management and professional mountain training.

Rimon’s name also remained at the place where he had served as a doctor.

RAF Valley’s medical facility became the Rimon Than Medical Centre — a living memorial to a man whose service brought together medicine, mountain rescue and high-altitude mountaineering.

He was just 35 years old.

But his story did not end in the snow of Chalamain Gap.

It continued in the lessons learned, the safer practices that followed, the knowledge he shared, and the medical centre that still carries his name.

Squadron Leader Rimon Than, RAF.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

09/09/2026

🌹 When Captain Rosie Wild was handed the maroon beret on 18 February 2020, she had done something no woman in the British Army had ever done before — she had passed P Company.

There was no lowered standard. No easier route. No special allowance.

She passed the same gruelling selection required of those preparing to serve with Britain’s airborne forces.

Loaded marches. The Trainasium. A log race. A stretcher race. An assault course. Endurance. Milling.

Test after test designed to push strength, stamina and determination to the limit.

Rosie kept going.

It was the latest step in a journey that had already demanded resilience. A serious knee injury had forced her through substantial rehabilitation, but she recovered, completed Sandhurst and received the Sword of Honour as the outstanding officer cadet of her commissioning course.

Then came P Company.

Women had been permitted to attempt it since the mid-1990s. Several had tried. None had completed it successfully.

Until Rosie Wild.

At Catterick, aged 28, she became the first woman — and first female British Army officer — to pass All-Arms Pre-Parachute Selection.

For Rosie, it was more than a historic first. P Company was the gateway to the airborne role she wanted with 7 Para RHA.

And she had earned her place.

Months later, she completed the separate Basic Parachute Course and gained her parachute wings, going on to serve with 7 Para RHA and alongside 2 PARA.

Her achievement mattered because the standard did not move.

She met it.

The same standard.

Rosie Wild’s story is one of determination, professionalism and history made through achievement — a barrier broken not by changing the test, but by passing it.

The maroon beret was earned.

And she earned it.

A proud moment in British Army history, and a milestone for the women who followed.

Respect, Major Rosie Wild RHA. 🌹

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