Articles published in The Durham Bugle are of a wide range of types. 

As well as those commemorating battles and campaigns in which the DLI was involved, individual DLI personalities, for example, are the subject of the writers, too. 

We also try to regularly include items of general historical interest, usually with a link to the DLI, to set alongside the core historical material.

The magazine, in 2003 and 2004, featured articles about St Dunstan's. One is reproduced here and a link at the foot of the page will take you to the other St Dunstan's article.

The sample article below, which is slightly amended for the web site audience, appeared in two parts in the Autumn 2004 edition of the magazine and featured Fred Bentley.

Sadly Fred Bentley died recently and we reproduce the following as a tribute to him and to the marvellous St Dunstan's organisation which helped him so much.

Counting The Cost

Reflections on the D-Day Anniversary - published Autumn 2004

Fred Bentley pictured with his distinguished guide, Sir Peter de la Billiere, at the Cenotaph parade

Thousands, probably millions, of words were written and spoken during the last few months as the 60th Anniversary of D-Day approached – and certainly thousands of servicemen paid the price for the invasion.

For those who were participants, and survived D-Day and its aftermath, the focus of the anniversary was remembering and saying goodbye, possibly for the last time, to their friends and companions on that day, long dead.  It was a very moving and memorable occasion.  Understandably, there was less of a spotlight on the many thousands who sustained significant injuries – they had, after all, survived, even if it was to lead blighted and, in many instances, foreshortened lives

In the Autumn 2003 issue of The Durham Bugle I wrote about the work of St Dunstan’s and particularly about the postcards issued after the First World War to raise funds.  I mentioned my grandfather, blinded at Arras in 1917, who rebuilt his devastated life with the help of that organisation.  The Spring 2004 St Dunstan’s Newsletter brought all of that back to me when I saw the feature on Fred Bentley.  Fred was at one time a member of A Company, 6 Battalion DLI.  He was transported across the Channel to Gold Beach on 6 June 1944 and launched, together with 150,000 others into a lottery for his life.

Facing the danger created by heavy German artillery fire, the first threat to his life came from the sea as he and his companions, dressed in invasion kit, were ordered off the landing craft into deep water.  Abandoning some of their clothing, they survived this first hazard.

However, Fred’s luck did not hold.  A few weeks later, as the territorial battle spread from the beaches, he was blinded by a German grenade which exploded very close to him.  He was lucky to survive but, at 20 years of age, faced the same fate which had befallen my grandfather – blindness.

Fred was cared for, trained and supported by St Dunstan’s and he still has that help.  He learned Braille, woodwork and typing and was able to work for a car manufacturer.  Now, after 60 years of blindness, he can reflect on what that moment in Normandy meant to him.

You have probably thought, as I have, about all those spoken and written words generated by the D-Day Anniversary and about the images you saw on TV or, possibly, first-hand.  One part of the TV commentary – I cannot recall which channel as I was switching backwards and forwards – grabbed my attention at the time. 

During the official Service, while many veterans stood to attention, the point was made that we should remember that many of the men who had been killed in 1944 and many of those present at the Service were not professional soldiers by choice, but individuals who, by that stage of the war, had been ‘called-up’ and therefore had had no choice in the matter.  Their bravery is not minimised by that fact.  Indeed it is possible that it was greater, and this was underlined for me by Fred Bentley’s clearly expressed views stated in his interview for the St Dunstan’s Newsletter. 

“There’s an expression I hate.  That’s when they say a man gave his life.  You don’t give your life.  You have it taken from you!  Nobody goes into action expecting to be killed.  I didn’t give my sight.  I had it taken away.”

As I come to terms with the experience of the D-Day Anniversary and take part in Remembrance Days in the future I shall try to keep Fred’s words in the forefront of my mind.  He makes it very clear that there should be no wearing of rose-tinted spectacles or regurgitation of hollow clichés when remembering D-day or any other wartime action but rather a recollection and recognition of it as it really was – and an unambiguous awareness and understanding of the personal cost

Counting The Cost – an Afterthought

I was recently invited to listen to Major-General Brims talk about the planning and early stages of the recent Iraq war when he visited County Hall, Durham in June.  His had been the responsibility for the efficient and effective deployment of the UK Land Forces and of successful liaison with the forces of the United States of America.

Two things struck me particularly.  The first was how young he seemed to be to have such awesome authority.  I rapidly flicked through mind pictures of both First and Second World War leaders.  Promotion in war can be rapid.  Roland Boys Bradford VC MC of the DLI reached the rank of Brigadier-General in 1917 at the age of twenty five but on the other hand General Montgomery was fifty four when he took command in North Africa in 1942.  I decided that to reach such elevated heights must be even more difficult in peacetime.

You may be thinking I was not paying attention to General Brims but not so!  The second thing that struck me was the way in which he spoke about his men.  He spoke of them with tremendous pride - not just of their fighting proficiency but of their intelligence, contribution to the campaign and of their unique ability to win the hearts of the Iraqi people.  He had arranged for a young soldier, who had lost part of a leg in Iraq, to join him at the talk, and his welcome of the soldier when he arrived spoke volumes.  He clearly knew the man well and could have been welcoming his closest friend.

I realised, when thinking about Fred Bentley and looking at the photograph, just how important the qualities of empathy and approachability are in the make-up of the great military leader.  Those leaders who were able to relate in a genuine way to their men and were not afraid to listen and to tap into their strengths were better commanders and were undoubtedly paid back with interest.  (Billy) or, officially Sir Peter de la Billiere is Fred’s guide at the Cenotaph, as you will have noted.  He, like Major General Brims, commanded the UK land Forces but, of course, in the 1990 Gulf War.  It is encouraging to see that same affinity and respect both these commanders have for their fellow soldiers, young and old.   Therein lies the real reason why the British Army is so effective and the envy of the world.