I have always been interested in military campaigns, wars and weaponry. When I was 15 years old, two of my school mates and I heard about a WW2 B17 Flying Fortress bomber that had crashed on Marsden Moor in 1945.
Being innocent of the dangers, naive and romantic, we decided to climb up to Marsden Moor. I had never walked onto the moors before this time; however, it must be simple enough we thought – just head uphill from Marsden. So off we went one Saturday wearing only our normal playing-out clothing.
We were fully expecting the huge bomber to appear in front of us, perhaps one of the remaining engines still turning its last few revolutions, perhaps some weaponry scattered about waiting to be picked up and, even more exciting, a body or two to be discovered.
We were 15 years old and yet to learn to be careful of what to wish for; too stupid to see the fuller picture or the potential horror of the big bad world. We were simply looking for excitement.