In the remote and desolate part of
England that is Salisbury plain, not far from the ancient monument of
Stonehenge and nestling within a countryside dotted by mysterious
burial chambers or 'barrows', lies the deserted and forgotten town of
Imber.
Cue fog and maniacal laughter and the
distant sounds of wolves howling for blood. CUT! England may have fog
at times and there are a fair few mad people that laugh rather too
much, but there aren't any wolves.
A pity really as Imber would be much
more exciting if it had some resident wolves. Here is a map in case
you'd like to visit. And a picture of my sat-nav en-route. The
eagle-eyed amongst you will notice both are blank. Weird. Spooky. Why
do I suddenly have an uncontrollable desire to laugh...
The Church of St Giles, dating from the
13th Century, is the first building you see as you
approach, its high bell tower marking the town from afar. This is the
only building not owned by the MoD, (the British Military). The Army
evicted the inhabitants with just 47 days notice and forcibly took
over the town in 1943, paying them a pittance and promising that
after the war, they could return. A promise that was never honoured.
A town that had probably been in existence since before the Romans
and was first mentioned in 967, disappeared from public view.
Used as a training area for urban
warfare, most of the buildings have crumbled or were demolished. Just
a few pock-marked and crumbling originals remain. A new town of ugly
block-built and empty-eyed 'houses' now form the town proper, and
it's from these that soldiers still practise their art of staying
alive while administering death.
The town lies in the middle of the
army's gun and tank ranges and as such is out of bounds to the
public, only rarely do the military allow public access. Usually
that's once a year on a day closest to St Giles day when the Church
is available to visit. But for a few days this Easter, Imber and the
Church was open, hence my visit. Stark warnings on the dangers of
treading off the main road due to unexploded munitions are
everywhere.
It's a strange place, a place where you
feel you shouldn't be. There's very little to see. But the ancient
Church standing above buildings used wholly to train for war is a sad
visual irony. The 'town' sits amidst one of the last wild places in
England. You will see no power lines here. The landscape is as it has
always been, except that is for the odd rusting remains of one or two
derelict and shot-up tank hulks. A cold wind chills my skin as I walk
through the ruins. There's no fog, maniacal laughter or howling
wolves to make me shiver. It's just the ghosts of war that linger
here.
How interesting ! And a bit sad...
ReplyDeleteYes, I thought so.
ReplyDelete