Garn Wen
Do you believe in things that go bump in the night? This story is nothing like that. But it is about spirits.
Garn Wen Ridge
Its decided then, said Hayley.
Her two sisters nodded.
Right. Get your backpacks. We had better take something to eat and drink, Hayley told them. Oh. And waterproofs. Just in case. You never know when the weather is going to change on the mountain.
I expect Grandma will be surprised to see us, laughed Cerys, who at nine was the youngest of the sisters.
Do you know the way Hayley? Rhiannon asked.
Ive been once with Granch. And I have the map and compass. Now. Ill tell mam and then well be on our way. The three girls left in a buzz of conversation. The first part of the journey was easy. They all knew how to get to Pontypool park from John Street where they lived. At the Council Offices they crossed the road safely and entered the park.
It was quite an exciting time for them. It was the first time for them all to walk to Penperlleni post office on the other side of the Garn Wen ridge. It was the first time for them to be out on their own together.
Puffing and blowing they reached the Grotto. Cerys shrugged off her pack and sat on one of the seats. Ive got to have a drink, she gasped pulling out a bottle of orange squash.
Me too, Rhiannon declared and sat down beside her.
Well dont drink too much at one time, Hayley said.
Why, Cerys asked.
Granch told me. The more you have at the start the more you want. A mouthful or two at regular intervals was best he said. She took a drink of water, swirled it gently around her mouth for a while, and swallowed it slowly. Okay. Times up. She swung her pack onto her back and made her way to the ladder spanning the boundary wall.
Turning left Hayley led her sisters up the lane to the Folly. Granch told me this was knocked down during the last war, she said as she led them passed it.
Why was it knocked down? Cerys wanted to know.
Something to do with it being a landmark for a factory where they made bombs and things.
Was it that one, said Rhiannon pointing to the old ICI factory.
Hayley explained as best she could. She told them that the factory was underground and you couldnt see much of it even from the road. But she didnt allow them to stop. Come on. Theres our school, she said pointing pointing to her left.
They continued upwards, a wall on their right, then down into a little valley. They crossed the stream and continued up the ridge. See that tumble of white stones, Hayley said pointing up the slope. Thats Garn Wen.
That means Pile of white stones, said Cerys who was the last of the three to attend the Welsh-Medium school.
They passed Garn Wen, with its trig point, until they came to the start of a valley going down to their right. It was the valley that led to the Holy Well. Hayley continued walking up the ridge until they came to the old limestone workings. At this point the weather changed.
Within minutes the cloud had lowered and they could see only a few metres in front of them. It became colder and the three girls put on their jumpers and waterproofs. This is a bit scary, Rhiannon said. What are we going to do?
Go back, said Cerys. I dont want to be lost on the mountain. We might never find our way off.
Theres no need to panic, smiled Hayley. The wall on our right will take us to the place where we turn down off the ridge. That will then take us down to Grandmas.
I can hear something, said Cerys. Sound like a plane I think.
So can I. Yes. It is a plane, said Rhiannon. And it appears to be quite low.
The three girls stared into the damp and misty clouds. The plane appeared to be circling round. Then they noticed the roar of its engines had become louder. Suddenly out of the murk thundered an old type aircraft. As it passed over them they could see every detail. It was full of holes. Bits of metal or fabric flapped in the slipstream, a thin curl of blue smoke snaked from the exhaust of one of the engines. Then the clouds enveloped it in a shroud and it disappeared. But they could still hear it circling round them.
Suddenly they heard voices.
Where the hell are we Flight?
Your guess is as good as mine, said a second voice. All the instruments have been damaged. If we could only see some ground I might be able to work out a flight path. Cant we get under this cloud, Harry?
Im having difficulty keeping this kite in the air, AD. If I take it lower I may not be able to regain any altitude again, the first voice replied.
Well we cant keep flying round in circles. Harry.
I know that. The problem is I doubt if we can make it back to base. Its gradually falling apart. How is Gunner?
The bleeding appears to have stopped. I think hell be okay.
Right. Ill try taking her down slowly. Get under this cloud and find a suitable site to put her down. Keep your eyes open. Here we go.
The girls could hear the plane turning towards them. They were entranced as though in a dream. They just swivelled round with the sound. None of them said anything.
Suddenly the engine pitch changed.
Thats bloody torn it, Guys. Weve lost No2 engine, the first voice cried. I cant hold it. Were going down.
The plane roared over the heads of the girls. It was so low it made the girls duck. Then the mist swallowed it up again. Seconds later a bright flash lit up the clouds followed immediately by a ball of fire and a tremendous explosion. The ground beneath their feet shook and the magical sphere in which they were held was shattered.
Weve got to help. Someone may still be alive, cried Hayley as she led the rush up the steep slope.
The crackling and spitting of the fire seemed to taunt them as they slipped on the damp grass and loose stones. The acrid smell of burning become almost overpowering as, coughing and spluttering, they reached the top expecting to see a tangle of burning wreckage.
But there was nothing for them to see.
Even the smell of burning grass and oil had gone.
Even the clouds had risen.
Wh Where is it, stammered Rhiannon.
There was nothing to be seen.
Nothing, that is, except a small stone plinth. Moving closer to it they saw a small brass plaque was attached to it. On it was written In Memory of the crew of a Blenheim Bomber which crashed on this Site on September the 22nd 1940 killing its crew of three.
Sgt Pilot H. Wilson
Pilot Officer A.D. Coplestone
Rear Gunner Sgt J November