A tableau of raw human grief yet utterly uplifting
By ROBERT HARDMAN
3rd November 2006
Moving: This sculpture - with each human figure almost the same size as a real person - with be on one of the walls of the new memorial. A similar sculpture will adorn the wall opposite which will have soldiers carrying a dying comrade through an open door which the sun will shine through at 11am on 11th November every year.
A distraught wife reaches out into thin air. Too horrified to take in the fact that Daddy is never coming home, her sobbing young son hugs her for dear life.
Elsewhere, another woman - a mother perhaps - has collapsed. A helpless relative fails to console her. Her world has, simply, fallen apart.
In the centre of it all, the focal point for all this grief, a dying man is carried from conflict by his comrades. Soon, he breathes his last and the door to another place opens up before him. His name and his memory, though, will live on in the world he has left behind.
There is nothing mawkish or sentimental in these profoundly moving scenes. They are painfully honest, almost brutal, in their depiction of raw human loss. And so they should be.
They will stand at the centre of the largest memorial built in Britain since the aftermath of the First World War. And, more than any other memorial, it will depict the wider impact of a life lost in the service of this nation.
Here, for the first time, the public has a glimpse of the intricate detail at the heart of the Armed Forces Memorial to the 16,000 servicemen and servicewomen who have died on duty all over the world since the end of the Second World War.
Since yesterday's launch of the Daily Mail campaign to help raise £4million to complete this vital monument, the national appeal - led by Prince Charles - has won backing from all political parties.
As donations start to pour in, the central section of the memorial is starting to take shape. So I have come to see what we can expect.
This time next year, these sculptures will stand at the centre of the country inside the National Memorial Arboretum outside Lichfield, Staffordshire.
Atop a 20ft mound, a vast circular wall of Portland stone will surround two straight walls either side of a central terrace. All around, the names of the 16,000 will be carved in chronological order of death.
Crowning it all will be these two dramatic scenes, cast in 25 tons of bronze, by the acclaimed sculptor Ian Rank-Broadley, 54, the man who crafted the current image of the Queen (the 'authorised effigy') on coins.
These days, he is to be found at a Gloucestershire foundry, bringing his sculptures to life. And I soon realise the enormity of the task.
He has only just had the final go-ahead for a work involving 14 human figures at one-and-a-quarter times their natural size, all of which must be ready by next October when the Queen will open the site.
What's more, it must honour the men and women from all three services who have died in every scenario over more than 60 years.
Some died in battle. Others were killed by terrorists. Many died accidentally. But the manner of their death has had no bearing on the suffering of their loved ones.
And with space for thousands more names, this must honour all those who will lose their lives in future service.
Mr Rank-Broadley has already sculpted his scenes at one-third scale. When I arrive, he is converting these finished models to full-size clay figures which will be cast in bronze. Even at this stage, they are disturbing and uplifting.
He says: "I was determined not to tell a particular story because this is for all the services past and future," he explains as we examine the first scene. It features a dying serviceman being carried on a stretcher by his comrades.
If anything, says the sculptor, his inspiration was the tragic warrior of Homeric legend being carried on his shield.
"I was the first of four generations of my family not to fight in a war," says Mr Rank-Broadley, a father of two student children. "But I grew up meeting friends of my grandfather who had served in the First World War and now I have friends with children serving in Iraq. There are always poor families at home dreading the worst."
The dying man is naked. "It heightens his vulnerability and circumvents the problem of a uniform."
For the same reason, most of the military figures are naked to the waist. "These figures must be young, fit people to show the sheer waste. I have spent days with the Navy and the Army and it is always the young guys who are at the sharp end."
The stretcher-bearers have no regalia to denote units, merely kit to represent their services. The first and third figures from the left are wearing the trousers, pouches and boots of infantrymen.
The second figure has an RAF flying jacket tied round his waist, trousers with map pockets and flying boots. The fourth figure has the square-cut shirt of a Royal Navy sailor and a sailor's hat at his feet.
But the civilian figures will have an equal pull on the emotions. The mother and child are from no particular period. "I wanted to depict a mother of several children, not a Kate Moss figure, and I have deliberately kept the child shoeless. It's a more powerful image."
At the other end of the tableau, the collapsed woman is of indeterminate age. She has dropped her bag and lost a shoe, consumed in her grief. Another loved one offers her a futile hug as he looks up in horror at the dying figure.
"There just comes a point when the shock is overwhelming," says Mr Rank-Broadley.
Directly opposite will be the second scene. The man on the stretcher is now dead despite the best efforts of two more comrades. One of them is a woman, reflecting the contribution of women to the Forces. Next to her is a Gurkha, representing the multi-ethnic composition of the forces.
A figure is etching the dead man's name on to a memorial. And another soldier is holding open the door.
Does it lead to Heaven? Is it releasing the soul? "This is merely pointing the way to the other side, whatever you want the other side to be," says Mr Rank-Broadley.
The door has been designed so that at the two-minute silence at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the sun will shine straight through the gap in the door on to the central bronze wreath.
All three Services have been involved in the design of a memorial which commands keen royal approval. Not only is Prince Charles an active patron of the appeal but the panels will feature the name of his great-uncle, Earl Mountbatten, who was killed by Irish terrorists in 1978 while still Admiral of the Fleet.
Mr Rank-Broadley is extremely proud to be so closely involved in one of Britain's most important public sculptures for generations.
"This memorial is designed to show intense grief and the true effect when a young, loved one dies, the way the shock ripples far beyond the battle. I want anyone who has suffered to be able to transpose their own story on to this memorial."
Britain has never had a memorial quite like this before. Even more reason, then, to make sure this brilliant tribute to so many unsung heroes is fully supported to the hilt.
dailymail.co.uk
By ROBERT HARDMAN
3rd November 2006
Moving: This sculpture - with each human figure almost the same size as a real person - with be on one of the walls of the new memorial. A similar sculpture will adorn the wall opposite which will have soldiers carrying a dying comrade through an open door which the sun will shine through at 11am on 11th November every year.
A distraught wife reaches out into thin air. Too horrified to take in the fact that Daddy is never coming home, her sobbing young son hugs her for dear life.
Elsewhere, another woman - a mother perhaps - has collapsed. A helpless relative fails to console her. Her world has, simply, fallen apart.
In the centre of it all, the focal point for all this grief, a dying man is carried from conflict by his comrades. Soon, he breathes his last and the door to another place opens up before him. His name and his memory, though, will live on in the world he has left behind.
There is nothing mawkish or sentimental in these profoundly moving scenes. They are painfully honest, almost brutal, in their depiction of raw human loss. And so they should be.
They will stand at the centre of the largest memorial built in Britain since the aftermath of the First World War. And, more than any other memorial, it will depict the wider impact of a life lost in the service of this nation.
Here, for the first time, the public has a glimpse of the intricate detail at the heart of the Armed Forces Memorial to the 16,000 servicemen and servicewomen who have died on duty all over the world since the end of the Second World War.
Since yesterday's launch of the Daily Mail campaign to help raise £4million to complete this vital monument, the national appeal - led by Prince Charles - has won backing from all political parties.
As donations start to pour in, the central section of the memorial is starting to take shape. So I have come to see what we can expect.
This time next year, these sculptures will stand at the centre of the country inside the National Memorial Arboretum outside Lichfield, Staffordshire.
Atop a 20ft mound, a vast circular wall of Portland stone will surround two straight walls either side of a central terrace. All around, the names of the 16,000 will be carved in chronological order of death.
Crowning it all will be these two dramatic scenes, cast in 25 tons of bronze, by the acclaimed sculptor Ian Rank-Broadley, 54, the man who crafted the current image of the Queen (the 'authorised effigy') on coins.
These days, he is to be found at a Gloucestershire foundry, bringing his sculptures to life. And I soon realise the enormity of the task.
He has only just had the final go-ahead for a work involving 14 human figures at one-and-a-quarter times their natural size, all of which must be ready by next October when the Queen will open the site.
What's more, it must honour the men and women from all three services who have died in every scenario over more than 60 years.
Some died in battle. Others were killed by terrorists. Many died accidentally. But the manner of their death has had no bearing on the suffering of their loved ones.
And with space for thousands more names, this must honour all those who will lose their lives in future service.
Mr Rank-Broadley has already sculpted his scenes at one-third scale. When I arrive, he is converting these finished models to full-size clay figures which will be cast in bronze. Even at this stage, they are disturbing and uplifting.
He says: "I was determined not to tell a particular story because this is for all the services past and future," he explains as we examine the first scene. It features a dying serviceman being carried on a stretcher by his comrades.
If anything, says the sculptor, his inspiration was the tragic warrior of Homeric legend being carried on his shield.
"I was the first of four generations of my family not to fight in a war," says Mr Rank-Broadley, a father of two student children. "But I grew up meeting friends of my grandfather who had served in the First World War and now I have friends with children serving in Iraq. There are always poor families at home dreading the worst."
The dying man is naked. "It heightens his vulnerability and circumvents the problem of a uniform."
For the same reason, most of the military figures are naked to the waist. "These figures must be young, fit people to show the sheer waste. I have spent days with the Navy and the Army and it is always the young guys who are at the sharp end."
The stretcher-bearers have no regalia to denote units, merely kit to represent their services. The first and third figures from the left are wearing the trousers, pouches and boots of infantrymen.
The second figure has an RAF flying jacket tied round his waist, trousers with map pockets and flying boots. The fourth figure has the square-cut shirt of a Royal Navy sailor and a sailor's hat at his feet.
But the civilian figures will have an equal pull on the emotions. The mother and child are from no particular period. "I wanted to depict a mother of several children, not a Kate Moss figure, and I have deliberately kept the child shoeless. It's a more powerful image."
At the other end of the tableau, the collapsed woman is of indeterminate age. She has dropped her bag and lost a shoe, consumed in her grief. Another loved one offers her a futile hug as he looks up in horror at the dying figure.
"There just comes a point when the shock is overwhelming," says Mr Rank-Broadley.
Directly opposite will be the second scene. The man on the stretcher is now dead despite the best efforts of two more comrades. One of them is a woman, reflecting the contribution of women to the Forces. Next to her is a Gurkha, representing the multi-ethnic composition of the forces.
A figure is etching the dead man's name on to a memorial. And another soldier is holding open the door.
Does it lead to Heaven? Is it releasing the soul? "This is merely pointing the way to the other side, whatever you want the other side to be," says Mr Rank-Broadley.
The door has been designed so that at the two-minute silence at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the sun will shine straight through the gap in the door on to the central bronze wreath.
All three Services have been involved in the design of a memorial which commands keen royal approval. Not only is Prince Charles an active patron of the appeal but the panels will feature the name of his great-uncle, Earl Mountbatten, who was killed by Irish terrorists in 1978 while still Admiral of the Fleet.
Mr Rank-Broadley is extremely proud to be so closely involved in one of Britain's most important public sculptures for generations.
"This memorial is designed to show intense grief and the true effect when a young, loved one dies, the way the shock ripples far beyond the battle. I want anyone who has suffered to be able to transpose their own story on to this memorial."
Britain has never had a memorial quite like this before. Even more reason, then, to make sure this brilliant tribute to so many unsung heroes is fully supported to the hilt.
dailymail.co.uk