My heart started to beat a little faster when I heard the beep beep of my mobile phone telling me I had a new message.

“It’s from Bob,” I told my aunt Stella, who I was visiting in Shrewsbury.

I’d been with Bob for 15 years and finally we were getting married and Stella and I had been chatting about the wedding.

“Hiya Bear,” the message read, he always called me that, “want to give me a quick ring on the mobile phone.”

He was in Iraq again. He had done dozens of missions and we had a routine that I called him because it worked out cheaper.

I called him straight back. I told him I was with Stella and that we were planning the wedding.

“Don’t tell me the date,” he blurted out. “I will be a surprise for me when I get back.”

Most of the plan had been made. We were to be married on May 24th on our long boat Nutcracker where we lived with out Cat Cheesy and our dog Jack in the marina in Fazeley, Staffordshire.

We had a traditional long boat wedding planned and we were both going to wear traditional boating clothes – me a boating bonnet and Bob a boatman’s bowler hat.

When we had decided to live on a long boat a couple of years earlier we had taken to it like ducks to water and never looked back.

Bob knew everything but the wedding date.

I had resisted marriage at first. I had been married before and have four grown up boys, Glen, Neil, Paul and Owen who I am extremely proud of.

I felt I wasn’t ready for another marriage but then Bob came into my life.

A big cuddly bear of a man. Intensely private but kind and sharing with endless time for other people.

When he was off duty he never told people what he did for a living.

In fact, he was a ground engineer. That meant flying on dozens of missions over Iraq in a Hercules and being on the spot to repair the aircraft in any circumstances. You have to be good to do a job like that and Bob was the best.

He had an adventurous side and loved his motorbike and going scuba diving and gliding. He was a bit of an action man. How could I resist him?

There was a big age gap. Bob was 24 and I was 42 when we met at a bowling alley near RAF Lyneham in Wiltshire in 1991.

The age difference was never an issue for us. He had always wanted to get married and always used to say he wouldn’t be happy until we did because he wanted me to be taken care of just in case anything happened to him in Iraq.

And at that time he seemed to be in Iraq all the time.

He could be gone for a couple of weeks or a couple of months. We never knew.

I was either waiting for him to come home and when he was home waiting for the phone to ring to send him back. I was living on my nerves.

If it had been a bad trip and something bad had happened Bob would never talk about it but I could tell.

That day at Stella’s – January 30th, 2005 - I sensed he needed to talk to me. There was something in his voice. Nothing he said. I felt he just wanted to hear my voice.

That night after leaving Stella I was driving back to the boat when I received a call. It was Bob’s brother-in-law Steve. He sounded panicky.

“Have you heard about the Hercules crash in Iraq?” he asked.

“No I haven’t,” I told him. Steve was hoping I knew something but he knew more than me.

My heart started racing. I pulled over and phoned Bob’s father Mike, who also served in the RAF, to try to find out more.

He hadn’t heard anything either but from the news reports it sounded like it could have been Bob’s Hercules. The crash was in the right part of Iraq, near Baghdad.

Driving back to Fazeley that night was the worst journey of my life.

When I got there, friends on a neighbouring boat, Barbara and Bob took me in.

Barbara had virtually planned our wedding single handed. She is a good friend.

We watched TV but still there was no real news other than a Hercules had gone down in Iraq.

I was a complete mess.

I knew how dangerous Bob’s work had become with the situation in Iraq but I never dreamt of objecting to what he did.

I was always scared for him but I had to bottle it up so that he could be strong. I would have never stood in his way.

But on this last trip, shortly before he left, I had had a premonition.

For the first time I had asked him not to go.

No I didn’t ask, I begged him not to go. I got down on my knees and grabbed him and begged him.

He pulled me up by the arms and said: “If I don’t go and somebody else goes in place and something happens to them how can we live with it?”

Of course he was right. And I think that summed him up as a man.

As I waited for news that night with Barbara and Bob all my memories flashed through my head as I kept hoping he was going to be ok.

Then at 3.15am an RAF wing commander and a female officer arrived at the marina. We saw them silhouetted in the darkness as they walked towards the boat. I knew then.

They told me Bob was missing in action and believed dead.

His plane had been shot down 25 miles northwest of Baghdad by rocket propelled grenades and 10 servicemen in all were believed dead including Bob.

The bottom had fallen out of my world. But was just 38 years old. I lost my present, my past and my future. The memories will always be there. But I don’t think about the future without Bob.

Confirmation came through the next day and the bodies were recovered four days later. But I was in a daze.

None of us could really accept what had happened.

And then when the bodies were repatriated we saw the 10 coffins in the RAF hanger when they got back to this country. That was a reality check. It had happened.

Someone from the Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Families Association – SSAFA – came to make sure I was ok.

And after a couple of weeks reality really started to kick in because without Bob I had no income.

My outgoings including the mortgage on the boat were £450 and I had £300 in the bank.

The RAF Benevolent Fund immediately went into action to help me and SSAFA made sure I got a RAF pension, effectively as Bob’s widow because we had been a couple for so many years.

Bob was cremated at Sutton Coldfield Crematorium and the funeral was held at the National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire – a memorial to those who have lost their lives in the service of their country.

When I look at photographs of Bob now I think it would be nice for people to show their appreciation and support for our servicemen when they are alive.

There are a lot of them out there putting their lives on the line every day.

That is why I have started the Purple Salute. A purple ribbon is our symbol and you can wear it on your lapel or have a sticker in your car.

It is just a salute to those who serve and it will be nice for a soldier, sailor or airmen to come home from overseas and see that people are showing appreciation for what they do.

I know Bob will not be coming home any more. I won’t be hearing him rev the engine of his bike as he arrives back – that was his way of saying he was home after a stint overseas.

Sometimes when my phone beeps to tell me I have a text message I still think for a second it could be him. Then I have to get a hold of myself.

And I am getting my life together again day by day. I have a job working as a receptionist at a local hotel and I have a lot of good friends.

And I have some wonderful memories of a man I will always love.

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written by Fudge, November 01, 2007

My heart sank when I saw Bobs face that day. I doesnt hit you as hard until its a face you know, and you know it is someone who did'nt deserve it.Col, my thoughts are with you still, know its over a year on, but you still think. A face that will be so sorely missed every time I visit Lyneham Lanes to see all the old faces at the 11'th frame. Take care Col.
Fudge
XXXXX

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