The Dog and Partridge
Ó Copyright, All Rights Reserved,
Barry W. Hollritt, 2001 

On an overcast and cold English afternoon, I wandered into Titchmarsh.  My reason for visiting was not the pub you see in this story, it was because of my Dad.  Titchmarsh lies in a small valley in the rolling hills of Northamptonshire.  What is wonderful about this part of England is that the rolling hills of not only Northamptonshire, but the surrounding shires of Cambridgeshire, Bedfordshire and Huntingdonshire are full of tiny rolling hills laced with quaint tiny villages.  But again, I did not come to this part of England because of these wonderful little hamlets.  The landscape in all of these shires also reflects a flat and unending maze of landscapes that cap these tiny hills and dales.  These hilltops, which are like tabletops above the gentle valleys below, became the focal point of the United States effort during World War II to support Britain and the RAF in their time of struggle.  It was on these small hilltops that the US and England constructed Army Air Corp airbases for the air campaign the allies put into the European theatre from 1941 to 1944.  I came because my dad was based at what is now RAF Molesworth, the nearest base to the now quiet hamlet of Titchmarsh.  So on this cold, overcast afternoon, I retraced the steps that my dad used to bicycle upon during his free time in the English countryside.  He would leave the base between missions as a B17 ball turret gunner; bicycle down a single track road into the village of Titchmarsh, sometimes going no further, other times continuing on to other small neighboring villages with the names of Thrapston, Old Westin, and Kimbolton.  On this day, I came upon the Dog and Partridge, a wonderful jewel of a pub off the small village’s main high street.  One can sense the feeling of history, and of the turbulent yet unending past that the structure has survived through.  I spent a little time in the village wandering from churchyard to pub.  This particular pub stands where many a man long gone once passed by, and where at least one man I know as a father, dropped in for a well deserved pint of ale and shared a few sticks of gum with the young local children outside.