Dust and Ashes ! Patrick Ashe !2 DUST AND ASHES by Patrick Ashe !3 1995: First Edition published in Great Britain by David Ashe, New Visions 2004: Updated and revised by Patrick Ashe and Robert Ashe 2005: Second Edition published in Indonesia by Robert Ashe 2011: Online edition published by Robert Ashe Copyright © 1995 and © 2004 by Patrick Ashe Copyright © 2011 by Robert Ashe Website: http://ashefamily.info/ All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form of by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owners, except for the express purpose of reading the book as a downloaded PDF. Other books by Patrick Ashe in the Teddy Brown series: Teddy Brown finds a home Teddy Brown is rescued Teddy Brown’s Secret Teddy Brown and the Battle Teddy Brown goes on holiday Teddy Brown and the Aeroplane Teddy Brown puts the world right Teddy Brown helps Jack !4 For my family The Ashes especially Marion ! Marion and Pat Ashe !5 !6 Foreword This book is the story of one man’s walk through life. It is a fascinating story as he recounts his adventures from his birth in 1915 in Smyrna, Turkey, to the time when he crossed the Sahara Desert, from the birth of Project Vietnam Orphans to his ministry at Losely Park. Throughout his journey in life, Pat has been accompanied by two others. His first companion has been his Lord Jesus, who has been his Rock. Through many difficult times, He has never failed Pat. His second companion – now for almost 54 years – has been Marion. Her support has made his ministry possible. To meet Pat and Marion is to take a walk back in time -- a time when people genuinely cared about each other. Meeting briefly in Cairo at the end of the Second World War, they were married in Southwark Cathedral in 1950. They survived raising seven children who, inspired by them, went to various parts of the world to help others. In 1967, they started an organization called Project Vietnam Orphans with the objective of helping one child, and this later grew into a larger organization, Christian Outreach. Whether through Christian Outreach, through their parish work, or at a personal level, they have helped countless children, women, and men find new hope in today's world. !7 "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God" We are all blessed by being in the presence of Pat and Marion -- two remarkable individuals, who have walked hand-in-hand through life, and who are now gracefully enjoying their well- deserved retirement. But this book is not just the story of Pat’s life. It also contains a message, which is that all things are possible when you put your faith in God. Through the stories of changed lives throughout his ministry, Pat’s message to all of us is that God can make a difference in our own lives and that He does answer prayers. In a world that is wracked with pain and grief, God’s love can shine through – if we let Him work His miracles. ! Robert Ashe, MBE !8 Ashe Family Tree The Ashe Family goes back many generations. It can be viewed in its entirety at http://ashefamily.info/. Rev. Henry Ashe 1759- Loïs Mary Rev. Ken Ashe Boullier Mary 1951- 1951- Rev. George Alexander Esther Hamilton Ashe 1813-1897 Robert Patrick Aam Zamila Ashe Blair Zoe 1953- 1958- 1987- Joel Rev. Robert Pickering Ashe Peter 1857-1944 Rev. Francis John Sheila Ashe Prouse 1953- 1953- Julia Joanna 1986- 1982- Robert Henry Nicholas Ashe Suzanna 1894-1966 1988- Islay Jane Mike Downey Ashe Lucy Oliver George 1941- 1958- Amy 1988- Ashe 1900-deceased Beth Andrew Gwynne Evelyn 1992- Mary Edith Ashe Millard Ashe 1958- 1960- Rachel 1991- William John Ashe Ruth Marion Yves Coyette Loïs Ashe 1956- 1992- 1959- Ellen Irene James Isabel Ashe 1905-1992 Sophie David Mark Rosemary Patrick Ashe Thompson 1999- 1963- 1969- Akara 1998- Xanthi Rev. Francis 2003- Patrick Bellesme Ashe Marion Islay Edward Benjamin 1915-2009 Bamber 2003- 2006- (Johnston) 1920-2008 !9 !10 Contents Page Foreword 7 Ashe Family Tree 9 Part 1 My early life 14 Part 2 University, Africa, and Ordination 51 Part 3 Egypt, Greece, and Marriage 108 Part 4 Vicar Vagabond 143 Part 5 Egypt and a miracle for Loïs 174 Part 6 Otley 192 Part 7 Leamington and Cyprus 238 Part 8 Project Vietnam Orphans 263 Part 9 Thailand and Christian Outreach 313 Part 10 Towards an ending 349 Appendices Poems and Sermons 371 !11 !12 Time’s Paces When as a child, I laughed and wept, Time crept. When as a youth, I waxed more bold, Time strolled. When I became a full-grown man, Time ran. When older still I daily grew, Time flew. Soon I shall find, in passing on, Time gone. O Christ! wilt thou have saved me then? Amen. Canon Henry Twells (1823-1900) (Poem on a clock in Chester Cathedral) !13 PART 1 My early life Page 1 Childhood memories 15 2 Missionary in Uganda 22 3 Growing up 28 4 Turkey for the Turks 33 5 Life as refugees 38 6 Return to Smyrna and on to England 45 !14 1 Childhood memories They staggered into the village of Boudja, near Smyrna in Turkey, the remnants of the British garrison at Kut el Amara in Mesopotamia. They had been made to march nearly 2,000 miles from what is now called Iraq to the west coast of Turkey. The British had captured Kut from the Turks in 1915, but later the Turks had surrounded it, starving the garrison into surrender. About 9,000 troops were taken prisoner, and the descriptions of the march by those who survived were horrific. Any who were sick, or too exhausted to walk were bayoneted to death, and left by the roadside for the vultures. One unit straggled into Boudja half starved, in ragged uniforms, their feet clad in bits of old boot, rags and puttees, and were housed in the Konak, the village police station. My father was Chaplain to the British community in Boudja, and my parents wanted to get the men something to eat. There was very little food, and we ourselves were only just above subsistence level. Mother gathered together all the food she could, and made a thick soup. We got permission from the guards for the men to come up to the Parsonage for a meal. Father said Grace over what was obviously not enough. It seemed impossible for all of them even to have a little. But as my mother ladled it out, ladle after ladle, including second helpings, still the soup held out. After the meal Father gave thanks for what he believed was a miracle. !15 Although I was only about two years old, I think I can remember the men coming into the house. It is possible, because my memory goes back vividly to when I was eighteen months old, sitting on the dining room table, and my sisters holding an animal book: "Pat, where's the lion?" one of them would say, and I would point. "Where's the tiger?", and I would point at the tiger. Of course I may remember those prisoners merely as a story which was often told to me. It was my first experience of prayers being answered, and as I look back on my life, I can think of many, many times when God has directly answered prayers. I remember my first prayers kneeling beside my mother and reciting the names of all the family for God to bless. It was at the time of the Russian Revolution when millions were starving, and my prayers always ended, “And God bless the Russians, and give them plenty of food to eat.” I was too young to wonder why one prayer was answered, and another was not. Those prisoners moved on, but they were not the only British prisoners we saw. One day some British aeroplanes flew in to bomb a Turkish ammunition dump about a mile from where we were living. I remember the crash of the explosions. One plane was shot down, and landed on the race-course. We went and watched from the hill-top. It was a small bi-plane that crash- landed slowly, and the two airmen came out unhurt, holding !16 their revolvers. However, the plane was soon surrounded by Turkish soldiers, and the two airmen gave themselves up. The Turks interned all British subjects during the first world war. My father was well respected, and although he was not allowed to travel, we were well treated, allowed to live in the Parsonage, and even to spend the summer months in our old windmill outside the village. Other memories of my childhood stand out like cameos or miniatures - perfect in every detail, yet separated from all that was going on at the time. They are more like photographs in an album than a continuous moving film. I see the family sitting round the table at lunch on the veranda of the Mill, the summer sun blazing outside. We were all there except Robert, my eldest brother who had volunteered, and was a lieutenant fighting in the army. Round the table were my father and mother, Oliver, Mary, William and Ellen. I was very much the youngest by ten years. I see the dappling light reflected from the bottom of the galvanised bucket of sparkling water, as my mother dipped it out with a ladle, and poured it into our glasses.