above Hambleden today, mindful of the American units encamped here in the run-up to D-Day. I caught mention of them, reading for a book I’m trying to put together. Master of the Light Brigade was born in the village and there’s a Roman fort over the field so these woods should be full of the vapours and phantoms of gone-fighting men, but there was not even a sigh to disturb the circling Red Kites. Blunden’s ears would have pricked up at their call.
