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Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers
Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers
Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers
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Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers

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This author's works have been praised by numerous celebrities, the most notable being Nelson Mandela who described two of his African stories as 'wonderful', the late Princess Diana who used to read two of his books to Princes William and Harry when they were aged 9 and 7 years, and a former Chief Inspector of Schools for the Office for Standards in Education, Children's Services and Skills (OFSTED), who described the author's writing to the press as being of 'high quality literature'.
When countries wage war on each other, there are no winners. The price of all war is paid for with the blood of people, soldiers and civilians, adult, child and creatures alike.
In times of struggle, a war-torn country, which is being heavily bombed by a more powerful invader often finds itself bonded in greater unity of purpose and with a greater instinct for survival than one might imagine. England experienced such during the Second World War years of 1939 - 1945.
This story is set in the period of The Second World War. It is written from a traditional English and British perspective. Its purpose is not to glorify war, but to offer the reader, both young and older, an opportunity to feel what it was like for a man, woman or child to live through and to provide a flavour of the English Nationalism that prevailed then and since.
The story's main characters are used to depict typical attitudes and values of the times, given their culture and circumstances. Whereas, 11-year-old Robin Rubin's view of the war will more closely reflect the views of the new Millennium child, the views expressed by his English war veteran grandfather is more typical of an aged British, colonial patriot. The more traditional, nationalistic view of The Second World War English soldier and civilian are expressed by Robin's parents, other adult story characters and the author.
The term 'British' did not come into common usage until the 1950s, and during the Second World War period, people born in England generally referred to themselves as being 'English'.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherWilliam Forde
Release dateOct 8, 2011
ISBN9781465809056
Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers
Author

William Forde

William Forde was born in Ireland and currently lives in Haworth, West Yorkshire with his wife Sheila. He is the father of five children and the author of over 60 published books and two musical plays. Approximately 20 of his books are suitable for the 7-11 year old readers while the remainder are suitable for young persons and adults. Since 2010, all of his new stories have been written for adults under his 'Tales from Portlaw' series of short stories. His website is www.fordefables.co.uk on which all his miscellaneous writings may be freely read. There are also a number of children's audio stories which can be freely heard.He is unique in the field of contemporary children's authors through the challenging emotional issues and story themes he addresses, preferring to focus upon those emotions that children and adults find most difficult to appropriately express.One of West Yorkshire's most popular children's authors, Between 1990 and 2002 his books were publicly read in over 2,000 Yorkshire school assemblies by over 800 famous names and celebrities from the realms of Royalty, Film, Stage, Screen, Politics, Church, Sport, etc. The late Princess Diana used to read his earlier books to her then young children, William and Harry and Nelson Mandela once telephoned him to praise an African story book he had written. Others who have supported his works have included three Princesses, three Prime Ministers, two Presidents and numerous Bishops of the realm. A former Chief Inspector of Schools for OFSTED described his writing to the press as 'High quality literature.' He has also written books which are suitable for adults along with a number of crossover books that are suitable for teenagers and adults.Forever at the forefront of change, at the age of 18 years, William became the youngest Youth Leader and Trade Union Shop Steward in Great Britain. In 1971, He founded Anger Management in Great Britain and freely gave his courses to the world. Within the next two years, Anger Management courses had mushroomed across the English-speaking world. During the mid-70's, he introduced Relaxation Training into H.M. Prisons and between 1970 and 1995, he worked in West Yorkshire as a Probation Officer specialising in Relaxation Training, Anger Management, Stress Management and Assertive Training Group Work.He retired early on the grounds of ill health in 1995 to further his writing career, which witnessed him working with the Minister of Youth and Culture in Jamaica to establish a trans-Atlantic pen-pal project between 32 primary schools in Falmouth, Jamaica and 32 primary schools in Yorkshire.William was awarded the MBE in the New Year's Honours List of 1995 for his services to West Yorkshire. He has never sought to materially profit from the publication of his books and writings and has allowed all profit from their sales (approx £200,000) to be given to charity. Since 2013, he was diagnosed with CLL; a terminal condition for which he is currently receiving treatment.In 2014, William had his very first 'strictly for adult' reader's novel puiblished called‘Rebecca’s Revenge'. This book was first written over twenty years ago and spans the period between the 1950s and the New Millennium. He initially refrained from having it published because of his ‘children’s author credentials and charity work’. He felt that it would have conflicted too adversely with the image which had taken a decade or more to establish with his audience and young person readership. Now, however as he approaches the final years of his life and cares less about his public image, besides no longer writing for children (only short stories for adults since 2010), he feels the time to be appropriate to publish this ‘strictly for adults only’ novel alongside the remainder of his work.In December 2016 he was diagnosed with skin cancer on his face and two weeks later he was diagnosed with High-grade Lymphoma (Richter’s Transformation from CLL). He was successfully treated during the first half of 2017 and is presently enjoying good health albeit with no effective immune system.

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    Book preview

    Robin and the Rubicelle Fusiliers - William Forde

    Robin and The Rubicelle Fusiliers

    By

    William Forde

    First published by William Forde (1st January 2000)

    Mirfield, West Yorkshire

    Republished September 30th, 2011

    Copyright 2000 William Forde

    Cover Illustration by Robert Nixon

    Published by William Forde at Smashwords

    Copyright September 30th, 2011 William Forde

    Smashwords Edition

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Author's Foreword

    When countries wage war upon each other, there are no winners. The price of war is paid for with the blood of innocent people, the loss of military and civilian lives, the deaths of men, women and children!

    There is no greater tyranny than that of a nation making a smaller nation bend and submit to its will, simply because it is more powerful and is able to do so.

    When words of worldly wisdom are wrapped within their national flags, all manner of human wrong is capable of being done and justified in the name of 'good cause'. Territorial theft enters the history books as ‘colonial expansion’, apartheid is dressed up in the clothes of ‘natural segregation’ and genocide is given the sanitised label of ‘ethnic cleansing.’

    The spread of war and its propaganda allows the value of life in one part of the world to become more or less important than the lives of men, women and children elsewhere.

    The blood of innocent people should not be shed to buy the wealth of nations! People's lives should not be sacrificed to purchase the political or religious advancement of one race over that of another! War should not be waged to extend the geographical land-map of any country!

    When the day comes that the life of one person, anywhere in the world, matters more than the power, wealth, prestige, ideology and political complexion of all nations; only then will there be no more war!

    This book is set in the period of the Second World War. It is written from a traditional English and British perspective. Its purpose is not to glorify war, but to offer the young reader an opportunity to feel what it was like for a British man, woman and child to live through such times in England.

    The story's main characters are used to depict typical English attitudes of the time. Whereas 11-year-old Robin Rubin's view of the war will more closely reflect the view of the New Millennium child, the view expressed by his English war-veteran grandfather is more typical of an aged, British, colonial patriot. The more traditional, nationalistic view of the Second World War English soldier and civilian are represented in the expressions by Robin's parents, other adult story-characters and the author. The term 'British' did not come into common usage until the 1950s, and during the Second World War period, people born in England generally referred to their race as being 'English'.

    The Second World War was a global military conflict. In terms of lives lost and material destruction, it was the most devastating war in human history. The causes of the Second World War matter less than the number of lives lost as a result of it!

    The Allied military and civilian losses numbered 44 million while those of the Axis totalled 11 million. The U.S.S.R. bore the heaviest human cost of the war, losing 20 million military and civilian lives.

    The U.S.A. had no significant civilian losses. They sustained 292,131 battle deaths and 115,187 deaths from other causes.

    Despite Britain being at the forefront of the war from the beginning of it, the presence of the English Channel separating Great Britain from the European battleground undoubtedly minimised the loss of civilian lives, which Great Britain would otherwise have suffered.

    Within this horrific loss of lives, it is estimated that 6 million Jews were killed in the Holocaust.

    This book is written in memory of all those men, women and children who paid the price of the Second World War with their lives. It is one of eight children's story books, which the author wrote in celebration of the New Millennium and was first published on January 1st, 2000.

    I extend my heartfelt appreciation to Denby Dale artist, Robert Nixon, whose authentic period painting was commissioned specifically for the cover illustration, and to artist, Rex Ripley of Garforth, Leeds, whose inner illustrations sympathetically complement the text of the war poem, 'Arthur and Guinevere', which can be found at the back of the book.

    William Forde, September 30th, 2011.

    #####

    Chapter One

    ‘Night of the Bombs’

    Arise, Sir Robin King Arthur announced as he knighted the latest recruit to his 'Round Table'. Come, good knight! the king invited warmly. Come; sit here, between your king and Sir Lancelot. I want to hear more of your gallant adventures and chivalrous deeds.

    Sir Robin took his seat as commanded by his monarch. Being placed in a position of honour between King Arthur and his Champion, gave Sir Robin a sense of pride, which no purse could ever buy nor victory yield.

    As the king patted his new knight on the back, Sir Lancelot stood and proposed a toast to the hero of the hour. I offer you, Sir Robin, a knight of courage and gallantry, Sir Lancelot said. May he long live in service to his King and Country. To Sir Robin!

    ‘The Knights of The Round Table’ rose as one, and raising their goblets of wine, they toasted the newest member to their fold, To Sir Robin!

    The king was overjoyed with his latest recruit and continued to praise and pat Sir Robin on the back.

    Suddenly, Robin was woken abruptly from his sleep. His dream had been brought to a hurried end. The towering Kingdom of Camelot had vanished beneath the waters of sweet dreams and 11-year-old Robin Rubins found himself back inside his bed at number 11, Old Kent Road, London.

    The table of fine foods and goblets of red wine had been cleared away, and in its place remained a partly drunk mug of Ovaltine and half a homemade biscuit. King Arthur, Sir Lancelot and all the other ‘Knights of The Round Table’ had taken their leave: the squires, the servants, the castle and the dream of Camelot had disappeared. The only remaining person in attendance was Robin's mother, standing in the shadow of his bedroom. Her face was filled with the visible expectation of some great disaster as she tried to stir him back to full alertness.

    Robin's mother shook him again, urging him as she did so, to get up quickly and follow her. There was a strong sense of urgency in her shake, a tone of unmistakeable seriousness in her voice and the suggestion of fearful panic in her words. Come, Robin! his mother urged. Come quickly, Son, before it's too late! Never mind getting dressed. Just grab a blanket to wrap around you. Quickly, put some shoes on and come now!

    Robin struggled to open his eyes fully while his senses slowly returned to the awareness of the place and time. He heard the air-raid siren and exclaimed in annoyance, Cor blimey! Not again! This is the second time this week! I'll never become the ‘King's Champion’ if old Adolf keeps waking me up! Robin quickly gathered a blanket, socks and a pair of shoes as the deadly shrill of the siren pierced the peace of the night with its stark warning of imminent danger and impending doom.

    Come on, Son! Robin's mother repeatedly called impatiently. What's keeping you? Get a move on!

    Robin scrambled towards the bedroom door in pursuit of his mother, who was now waiting anxiously for him at the bottom of the stairs. Robin! his mother shouted angrily. What's keeping you? We must get to safety now!

    I’m coming, Mum! Robin replied as he reached the top of the stairs, ready to descend. He quickly ran down six steps before stopping dead in his tracks. Oh no! he exclaimed. He turned and ran back up the stairs into his bedroom to retrieve two forgotten items; a framed photograph of his father and a scrapbook on British birds. These were Robin's two most-treasured possessions.

    Seeing her Son turn around and run back upstairs again angered Robin's mother, who yelled, Are you trying to get us both killed, you daft kipper? Get yourself down here and in that shelter now before… Robin re-emerged at the top of the steps again. Come on! his mother yelled once more as he began to descend the flight of stairs.

    As Robin started his descent of the stairs for the second time, his mother ran along the hall passage and into the kitchen towards the back door. She unlocked the door and held it wide open in preparation for their escape. Although the house was in darkness, both mother and Son were quickly becoming accustomed to their nightly run-for-cover. Robin's mother waited anxiously by the back door that she’d opened. Before she had the opportunity to call her son again, Robin had reached the bottom of the stairs and had started his run towards the kitchen.

    Coming, Mum, he panted breathlessly as he appeared in view. I’m coming now!

    Grabbing one of Robin's hands tightly, his mother led him out into the back garden towards the shelter. Upon reaching the shelter she lifted the hatch; revealing a small ladder which led towards their makeshift dugout in the ground.

    As his mother descended the small flight of steps, Robin swiftly looked across the horizon of the city and glanced towards the war-torn sky. He could hear the detonation of bombs in the distance and he could see the reflection of city fires casting their glow for miles around. He could smell the heavy whiff of smoke, which lingered in the night air. The smell of the smoke aggravated his nostrils and sent a sickening feeling to the pit of his stomach. It was a distinct smell of atmospheric gloom, filled with the fumes of devastation, destruction and death!

    Then, Robin heard the faint sounds of engines in the sky above; engines belonging to invisible German planes flying overhead towards the heart of the capital. He knew them to be German planes loaded with bombs, waiting to be dropped on London. As each batch of bombs were dropped in the darkness of the night and reached their earthbound targets, explosion after explosion was swiftly followed by an upsurge of flames, then, more explosions and more flames. Bursts of gunfire would then be heard, as anti-aircraft guns fired their bullets towards the squadron of invading planes; tracing out a path of broken flash-lines in the sky as the bullets travelled upwards.

    Had Robin been six or seven years younger, he might have thought that the Earth was being invaded by war-faring aliens from a planet in outer space, as the heavens exploded into star-war skies. Robin knew that the bombs would wreck the lives of thousands of innocent people. He knew that houses, shops, hospitals, schools, factories and churches would be crushed and blasted by the bombs. He knew that buildings, which yesterday stood up proud, would, by tomorrow's dawn, be flattened and reduced to rubble.

    But behind this realisation lay a deeper knowledge of the devastation that the bombing would cause. Robin knew the real horror of the bombs. He knew that behind the statistics of wounded and dead, and behind the physical destruction of buildings and property, which the bombs would leave in their wake, the birth of a deeper tragedy lurked; a personal and human tragedy, which couldn't be cleared up and brushed aside as easily!

    Robin knew that the real horror of the bombs was the unbearable heartbreak, the pain, the loss and the feelings of guilt, which would be thrust upon the survivors who were left to pick up the scattered pieces of their fragmented lives! He knew that the bombs would kill innocent men, women and children, while leaving many more badly wounded to resume their lives with amputated limbs and the loss of sight, smell, sound, speech and movement.

    Robin knew that some of the survivors would be cut off from their arms and legs; others from their family, friends and life-long neighbours. He knew that many would be left physically mutilated and others psychologically disturbed. He also knew that whatever the degree of pain endured, that almost all of the bombed population would be left emotionally distraught. Physical pain would be numbed by the onset of mental anguish, and families would be left fragmented forevermore as they buried the remains of their dead: their dead fathers, mothers, Sons, daughters, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews and cousins!

    These people were the real casualties of war which historians and statisticians write off ever so quickly with a stroke of their pen. These relationships, bonded by blood and cemented with love, would have their arteries slashed by the bombs. Their hearts would be ripped out and the cherished memories of three and four generations would remain to haunt them in the ruins of their shattered family units.

    As Robin listened to the planes above, he wished with all his heart that he possessed the power to prevent the bomber pilots pressing that lever which discharged the bombs onto the population of innocent people below. If only he possessed the means to reach inside the mind of every bomber pilot in the world, he would show them, in graphic detail, the horrific consequences of the bombs they dropped. If only he possessed such power, he would willingly use it to invade and bombard their senses. He would make them experience the pain, which their bombs brought into people's lives.

    He would compel their eyes to look upon the grief-stricken and tormented face of a heartbroken mother as she cradled the lifeless body of her only child in the wreckage of her bombed home! He would oblige their ears to hear the pitiful cry of anguish and fear

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