June 22, 2015

Finest Hour 118, Spring 2003

Page 10


JANUARY 5TH— His many friends in England and North America regret the passing of ICS UK committee member Fred Lockwood, a man of many parts who lived and enjoyed life to the full.

Fred started his working life in the British Civil Service, but when the Second World War broke out he joined the Indian Army and served in the Baluch Regiment, seeing much active service in North Africa and Italy. After the war Fred returned to the Civil Service, holding a variety of appointments including, as he described himself, “NATO’s man in London.” He rose to the grade of Assistant Secretary.

In 1978 he joined the Finance Division in the Ministry of Defence, Oman. Later he became Head of Resource Management. He was much involved in negotiations for new equipment for the Omani Armed Forces and, with his thorough approach to everything he did, he was a valuable asset in ensuring that the best possible contracts were secured. He left Oman after 15 years’ service in 1993, and became a consultant with British Aerospace.

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Fred was also an active and valuable committee member of the International Churchill Society UK, and with his considerable experience, energy and dry wit was a great asset. He rarely missed an International Conference. Away from work Fred was a keen and enthusiastic cricketer.

At Fred’s funeral, his son Michael mentioned that his Dad was “a great spinner of yarns,” and read from his memories about being the first boy to go to grammar school from the upper reaches of the Holme Valley, in what was then the West Riding of Yorkshire:

“I missed the lighter side of schooldays. How I regret the games sessions skipped on some flimsy excuse or other so that I could catch up on homework lost to jobs in house and farm—and so that I could ‘do well’ in examinations, and justify my mother’s fierce determination to keep me at school until my sixteenth birthday.

“Although I loved cricket, I hardly ever played so as to find time to study. The awkward bit was homework, which had to be fitted-in with farm chores. The work needed quiet and concentration, but the bedrooms were too cold and the kitchen table too crowded with churns and other farm implements.

“The weather in the Pennines is fickle. So when the sun came and the grass was ready for cutting it was all hands to the pitchfork. The crop was precious—irreplaceable for the winter feed—and it had to be harvested in storable condition. I learned all about making hay while the sun shone.

“That particular year I was, in deference to my pleas for study time, spared duty in the hay field itself, where I normally presided over the loading of the wagon, receiving and stacking the forkfuls of hay coming up thick and fast from my father and uncles. But there was no escape from my duties in the ‘Moo, ‘as the stack in the barn was called. This stack went up to the rafters and only a boy could work up there, reaching down for each bundle as it came up from the wagon on the end of forks of increasing length as the stack went higher. My task was to shake it out evenly and tread it down, trying all the while to avoid banging my head on the rafters. This would ensure the proper maturing of the hay, while avoiding the risk of overheating and a disastrous barn fire.

“Only then, sweat-soaked and with eyes and hair caked with hay seeds, would I descend the ladder, dash into the house and try to revise—Chemistry, French, Physics, whatever—until, in what seemed only minutes, my straining ears heard the chug chug of the old Ford truck as it brought the next load up from the field. “

Fred Lockwood now walks other fields. We shall miss his wonderful sense of humour, the enthusiasm for everything he did, and above all else, his friendship.
—Col. Nigel Knocker QBE

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