I often find when you get chatting on to older folk, they always have a few tales related to the war years. In my time as a public servant Ive met the widow of a SAS Brigade soldier, forerunner to the SAS as we know today, killed in action in Europe. His beret was in her cabinet in her living room with pictures of him.

An engineer from the RAF who worked on Douglas Baders squadron, who was talked into having a go at flying, and on his first trip out crash landed in a field, and stuck with engineering after that.


And a WW2 Para who did Arnhem - Got all his medals out, real good bloke, and still looked like he could break your nose.


So then - Heres my Granda , originally a North Shields trawler skipper, who on the break out of war, skippered armed trawlers on convoy duty, did a lot in the Atlantic then ended up in the Med. Rarely got home, and when he did his suntan much irritated my Grandmother who thought it was a holiday.

Mentioned in despatches 1941 for picking up survivors from the sinking Ark Royal in the Med after a U boat sunk it.


Lets hear other family tales from the past, see what else we have from other Locosters - All heroic in my eyes, with pics if you have any.

Lifted from another thread...

My maternal Grandad... Sgt Willie.



This pic was taken in Burma in 1942-43. Just a normal lad from a mining town in Fife.

His father had managed to get him a position down the pits, but the day before he was due to start he went with his mates to Kirkcaldy where he signed-up instead. He was too young to join legally and lied about his age. He did it because he considered it the 'right thing to do' (his words) and didn't want anyone to think he was a coward by going to the mines instead. His father beat him black and blue when he learned of what he had done.

His brother also joined about the same time. He fought (and died) in Europe.

He only talked about his time in the army during his later years... horrific is an understatement. He talked of heroic feats, but would never have considered himself a hero - it was just 'the right thing to do'.

He died just a few of years ago during a short spell in hospital for a minor ailment (sore knee).

The hospital was a filthy-disgrace and his care sub-standard. He contracted the C-Diff virus and bled to death in agony.

He deserved better.

Oh, and my paternal Grandad (of traveling stock) drank lots and generally mooched about during the wall!

No pictures, my Uncle Bert was a desert rat, he never ever spoke about it apart from it giving him a liking for currys, must have been horrific !

Grandfather was a Fireman in London

[Edited on 8/1/12 by mark chandler]

Off to a good start Scott thanks - Burma was a tough tough venue.....

quote:

---

Originally posted by mark chandler
No pictures, my Uncle Bert was a desert rat, he never ever spoke about it apart from it giving him a liking for currys, must have been horrific !

Grandfather was a Fireman in London

[Edited on 8/1/12 by mark chandler]

---

My Grandfather was Chief petty stoker on HMS Rodney, (had the final salvo's that sunk the Bismark)
My Fathers name is James Rodney Mul.........

I do not remember my Grandather, as he died when i was 2

My Mothers Father, was a tank commander in the northern Africa campains, and he lived till 1987,

I have photos, of both, in and around the war scenario, also as the only male surving member of my very small family i have all their papers medals etc,
probably not worth a lot, but to me, priceless

Thanks T66, you have reduced me, a 51 yr old adult to tears, while writing this, as like most of us on here, our Parents/Grandparents really did have a lot of responsability at such an early age, and are and always will be our history

Steve

Grandad Eric Hale (mothers side)




Captain Eric hale, is the second from the right on the bottom level, in the lighter shirt
the Tank has been identified as a Crusader varient


[Edited on 8/1/12 by steve m]

I am just starting out trying to find out more about my families war history. I just got my great uncle Richard's war medals from the first world war. He signed up with his brother despite being too young. Both of farming stock from a small Cumbrian village he joined the South Wales Borderers, formerly the 24th of Foot of Roarks Drift and Zulu fame. Sadly only my gran remains and remembers him talking of the trenches. He has a pocket watch with Arabic symbols and there is rumour he served in Mesopotamia (now Iraq) but I am going to write to the museum in Brecon to try and find out. Both survived and Dick was a milkman.

In the second world war someone on my dad's side was a Desert rat but not yet started looking into him yet.

Sadly many of them never talked about what they went through so the stories are lost. My gran can't understand why I want to know but I am fascinated.

Rich

[Edited on 8/1/12 by rb968]

My maternal grandfather was an army prison guard looking after the German POW's. Unfortunately I don't know much else. He said he always treated them well as he said "they were just scared kids like us". He learned German from one chap and played footbal with them when they were able.


He also was a driver for some of the top brass at one point.

My Wifes Grandfather was badly injured in then first World War, they shipped him home, got him well again and then shipped him back to the front again!!!!

the war is one thing not talked about in our family. I.ve always wondered so may ask when i see my parents this weekend (parents born 1940 so only remember the after effects)

Mother was a sergeant in the WRAF and was posted to Isle-of-Wight then Egypt, Palestine and Cyprus.
She is still going strong

My maternal Grandfather was a minesweeper in the Navy, knew nothing else as he probably didn't tell anyone much more than that.

I do remember him saying that we shouldn't have Rememberance day though, because we shouldn't remember we should just move on (something to that effect anyway, I was young)

My Dad's dad drove ambulances in London during the war.

My my mum's dad had a more disturbing past... Prior to the war, as a young 11 year old boy, and Jewish, he and his sister were forced to flee to live in the forests of Germany, after his parents said it was too dangerous for him to continue living at home. They left with a set of dodgy passports that claimed he was blonde with blue eyes (the blue eyes bit was true!). He and his sister lived for 9 months in the forest, before managing to cross the border, and eventually come to the UK. By the time the war broke out proper, he was a strapping young lad, who was fully accepted within the UK. During the war, he was in charge of getting people in London into air raid shelters.

He never knew what happened to his parents, as obviously he could not go back to Germany. Years later (late 80's), he went silent whilst watching a TV program on the war, with my parents. He saw in a panning shot of Austwitz, his mother and father stripped naked pressed up against the fence of the camp. Not a nice way to find out what happened to your parents...

My grandad who is no longer with us died 2005 was in the 8th army tank division ( desert rats ) i have his medals and my great grandads medals from the ww1

The replies are excellent, sorry for the upset Steve M , we are of a generation where WW2 played a big part in our parents outlook on life.

Sometimes lost on our younger friends & colleagues.



My dad was a signaller in the Royal Scots Greys -. Joined up in 1945 when he has 18. Describes post wartime Germany as a very scary place full of ravaged angry soldiers who had been to hell and back, and didnt really care who they upset waiting to be de-mobbed.

Ended up as an Sergeant Major on Centurions, spent a lot of time in post war Germany blowing things up, as nobody really cared.


Claim to fame, he did the ceremonial Sgts mess guard of honour for the marriage of Diana Spencers father, who was an officer in the Greys.

Twybrow - Thanks for that reply.

My grandpa was a chef, though ive no idea where he served. Only thing i remember him saying about it was a joke about how, if you looked round at the dinner table, someone would pinch food off your plate!

Saw a poem on difflock the other day, which brought a tear to my eye...:




THE FINAL INSPECTION

The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you ?
Have you always turned the other cheek ?
To My Church have you been true?'

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

'Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'

Not a relative, as I apprentice I worked with a chap who worked on the UK radar installations, got six pence extra for climbing up to the top.

He had no fear of heights, he worked on tea clippers before the war, on top of one of those in a force ten gale got rid of that !

quote:

---

Originally posted by JoelP

Saw a poem on difflock the other day, which brought a tear to my eye...:

+1.

I have worked with the military most of my working life and still do as a civilian. Not always well behaved in polite society but will always stand up to be counted when the chips are down and things get a little uncomfortable for those less willing.


THE FINAL INSPECTION

The soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.

'Step forward now, you soldier,
How shall I deal with you ?
Have you always turned the other cheek ?
To My Church have you been true?'

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.

There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.

'Step forward now, you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'

---

My paternal grandfather (god rest his soul) was involved in the liberation of Belsen concentration camp.
When I was a teenager, I remember him showing me photos he had taken of the terrible scenes he had encountered there. They were truly horrific and brought home to me just what attrocities and brutality human beings are capable of committing upon others in wartime.
I seem to recall that he was Mentioned In Dispatches but I don't know if that was in relation to this or another campaign.

My Grandfather was engineer on HMS Hood he's office was next door to amo store when it was hit by bismark, big shame really cos Hood never had a steel deck (was on the queey side waiting to be fitted when she came back.
Secound thing was my grandfather was not supposed to be on the hood he should have been on the york but he and mate swapped cos my grandfather knew more about hoods engines.like so many people my father never knew or got to see his dad which i think he still really regrets even after 70yrs.

Amazing just from the replies we have so far, what breadth of experiences our parents/grand parents families dealt with in their younger years.

My Grandfather was on the guns at Dover Port, he was first line of defence against any invading forces...

What he didnt find out till after the war was that the guns higher up on the cliffs were aimed at his position, incase the germans go too close - The higher guns were under orders to blow up the lower guns if the germans landed. Gulp.

I lost a few Great Uncles in the 2nd war, Both Grandads where in the Royal Scots. My Dad got kicked out 4 months after he joined in 1944 cos he was only 14 years old. I think he lied on his application. My family never really talk about it though. I'm the only one in the fsmily who hasn't joined up (to late now)

my old man drove a bren gun carrier...thats all i know,apart from the fact that he "liberated" a lot of stuff,some of which i still have.
he never spoke about his experiences.
when i were a lad he would take the loaded clip from his luger and let me play cowboys n injuns in the street.

Most people of that generation never talked enough about what they went through.

I knew a bloke in the war time SAS right from its start in the dessert through Dodecanese SBS raiding parties, alongside Fitzroy Maclean in the Balkans right to the clearing out pockets of die hard SS in the last few months of the war in europe. He fought very highly of Maclean and most of other big SAS names of the time but when I got him to talk about Anders Lassen he said all the man wanted was to kill as many Germans as possible in revenge for the murder of his parents and sister, he thought had Lassen lived longer he would have continued to seek revenge.

Another bloke I knew was ground crew when Bader straight of POW camp was desperate to try an ME262 and persuaded a German POW to show him how to start it up and fly it apparently the starting procedure involved puddles of kerosene running out the engine and a lighted rag.

One my uncles had only one leg so drove an auxilary he was called out to the Clydebank Blitz at 8 am the morning after ( the raid had wiped out all phone lines so it 10 hours before the powers that be realise just how bad the raid had been. He said there wasn't much to see until they crossed the boundary between Clydebank and Glasgow them immediately it was devistation the first thing he saw was a burned out tram and the tram rails sticking 12 feet into the air twisted into a knot.

My other uncle a PO mechanic on MTBs all through the seige of Malta and invasion of Itally he was on a depot ship tied up in Bari Harbour when the last major German bomber attack in that theatre of war was mounted just before Christmas 43.
There was virtually no air defence as the RAF and USAAF thought the Germans were finished, problem was they weren't and Bari Harbour and at least one of the ships were piled high with mustard gas bombs and shells for possible use at what would later become known as Monte Casino.
The 100 bomber raid was led by the nephew of the WW1 Red Baron, Bari harbour and warf area took a plastering. Many liberty ships were sunk and on warf in the centre of the quayside the whole flotilla of MTBs were smashed like matchwood. The MTB depot ship broke its mooring and drifted out in to the centre of the harbour where the crew picked survivors who were heavily contaminated with mustard gas. It was so secret that nobody in authority knew they were dealing with Mustard gas.
The next day my uncle was order to burn all the uniforms of the survivors and ended up being blinded for 3 days. Poor sod had all ready been through some rough MTB ops in the med and been bombed and starved durring the seige of Malta.
Churchill ordered an immediate 100% cover up of the raid for fear of giving the Nazis propaganda and- all documents relating to ithe incident were destroyed.
The depot ship was badly damaged but repairable but ordered scuttled to avoid any question that might arise if she was taken to a shipyard for repairs to this day it is difficult to find any record that HMS VIENNA even existed.

A Google on Bari Mustard MTB turns up all kind of interesting stuff.

[Edited on 8/1/12 by britishtrident]

My Grandad served in Borneo with the RAF Regiment. He was lucky to make it through as one night some local tribesmen (the traditional headhunter types) came into his tent and killed his 3 mates, taking their heads. He was well tucked up in the corner and they apparently missed him. The tribemen were paid by the Japanese to go about such activities.

My wifes Great Uncle served in the Great War in the 10th Bn Lincolshire Regiment (known as the Grimsby Chums). He joined as a lad but was a Major by the time he was killed in the Lochnagar Mine. He was awarded a posthumous MC for his actions. Unfortunately my wife's Gran, in the latter stages of her life when she wasn't thinking clearly, gave the MC to one of the NHS staff that looked after her as a gift.

quote:

---

Originally posted by StevieB
My Grandad served in Borneo with the RAF Regiment. He was lucky to make it through as one night some local tribesmen (the traditional headhunter types) came into his tent and killed his 3 mates, taking their heads. He was well tucked up in the corner and they apparently missed him. The tribemen were paid by the Japanese to go about such activities.

My wifes Great Uncle served in the Great War in the 10th Bn Lincolshire Regiment (known as the Grimsby Chums). He joined as a lad but was a Major by the time he was killed in the Lochnagar Mine. He was awarded a posthumous MC for his actions. Unfortunately my wife's Gran, in the latter stages of her life when she wasn't thinking clearly, gave the MC to one of the NHS staff that looked after her as a gift.

---

quote:

---

Originally posted by Bladerunner
My Wifes Grandfather was badly injured in then first World War, they shipped him home, got him well again and then shipped him back to the front again!!!!

---

Dad got the Burna star, RAF engineer
Grandad, saw a pair of Cavalry boots in the spare room, story of going over the top, bayonet through the wrist ( scars to proove it) but got the bugger back and had to fire the rifle to get the bayonet out of his chest.
Uncle, promoted in the field, the block that promoted him got shot so did not stand, then got shot through the shoulder, flesh wound, patched up sent back, then Anzio landings, pinned down others got shot or got away, he got shot through the knee, hold up in a barn, got away with it, endid up marrying an Italian girl, my aunt.
He is now 88 had the knee fixed properly only a few years ago, nicest most gentle man you could ever meet.
Frankly I am in awe of those old boys, tough as old boots.
I give the same respect to those in Afghanistan now, it's a hard gritty war.

I still have my paternal grandads medals from first world war - he was a policeman at the time and so remained in the force throughout (and was too old for WWII).

We're from Hartlepool, which was the first town on the mainlan to be attacked by the Germans - one of his medals commemorates his service on this day, as well as throughout the war.

They live safe and sound in a tin under my bed, along with some photo's of my other grandad from his time in Borneo. Both are wrapped up in my own berets, regimental flashes and awards etc.

I'll hand them to my eldest son one day in the future.

It is the great feats that our grandparents / parents did that made this country in the day A truly Great Britain, unfortunately all to many of our youth have forgotten the bravery, suffering and sacrifices these men women made. My Grandad was an ambulance driver my dad was in the REME for 24 years joining at 15 / 16 years old several postings spent time in Borneo and Brunai during the late 50's / 60's . Mother in law worked in the munitions factory during the war.

We have a new generation amongst us, who have friends and family serving the Queen in Afghan & elsewhere, they too will encounter death & tragedy like our parents / grand parents did/have.


Might be a good time to mention my favourite charity - Came across them while listening to BFBS radio on the sky box.


http://www.blesma.org/

"dray13dad"


Your poor old Grandfather was killed, by the Bismark attack, at least all those on board, got there reward, a solitary Catalina spotted the Bismark , and the British hunted them down, and the ship that my Grandfather was on, put them to the bottom of the sea

Justice !!

Not that i glory in all this, i truly do not, what a waste of human life. German, British, and all in between, a waste !

Steve

My Grand parents weren't quite old enough, my Grandfather was a fireman at the end of the war aged 17.

My Great Grand Father was in the RAF, but the specifics are unknown to me and not really talked about by the familly but I'm sure I was told he was on bombers, wasn't a pilot and from some of the things he told us in the earlier period of his Alziemers (I'm sure thats spelt wrong) he bombed Germany, my brother is sure he said he was part of the bombing of Dresden but I've no idea if thats true.

My Grandma was Friends with a man called Peter Finnigan who was a familly friend and who served on HMS Warspite during the war and is probably the only person I've ever known well who's spoken in depth about the war on a personal level. HERE is an article I found by googling his name and warspite. He was such an amzing man with so many stories to tell (David Bowie lived in his house in the 60's and wrote some of his early music there), he died last year.

My great grandfather was a Canadian Volunteer for the RAF and squadron leader.
he joined back before there was a Canadian airforce and RAF was still the RFC.
He was known as "Jack the Bastard", because no one liked him. He was an ace, but would have been an double ace (if there is such a thing) but no one would confirm his kills because they all hated him.
He passed away when I was 10, but I kew him long enough to understand how he got the nickname.

I'm named after my uncle Philip who was taken by saltwater crocodiles while fording a river in Borneo in 1943.
My dad spent much of the war posted to Malta, but would never talk about it.

Dad was a medical officer in field hospitals in North Africa and Italy doing triage - would imagine he saw some pretty horrendous things. His brother was in armoured cars in North Africa and Italy, saw plenty of action.

Another Uncle was captured on his 2nd day in North Africa - escaped twice and recaptured each time then transferred to Italy where he escaped again and was recaptured then they decided that it was best to send him to Germany - he and a friend jumped the train and friend was machine gunned as they ran from the train - he got away and was sheltered by a family in a small Italian village at huge risk to themselves for 6 months, he finally crossed the Alps to Switzerland where he spent the rest of the war. Never spoke about time in POW camps but aunt said he often woke up screaming at night.

Another uncle flew fighters (Spitfires, Hurricanes and Typhoons in North Africa and Italy) - he was mentioned in dispatches apparently.

Great Aunt was in Cryptography in London and decrypted the declaration of peace.

Another Great Uncle flew amongst others Sopwith Camels in the WW1 from age of 15 - lied about his age to get in. Was hit once by possibly a spent bullet but thickness of clothing worn in cockpit in winter and great coat button saved him. He always kept the button on him - showed it to me too.

When I was a kid Sailor Malan (WW2 flying ace) would sometimes visit us.

My paternal grandfather served at Ypres and was one of 2 from his original his platoon to survive. he never spoke of it to my Dad, except once when during ww2 my dad (still a schoolboy) asked him what a sniper did. "Once, I was on night guard with my best mate. I looked around and the back of his head was missing. Thats what a snipper does!". After his death we found a diary he'd writen. After the armistice he'd been part of the "March to the Rhine". His new platoon took shelter one night in a canal side hut/shed and my grandad took first watch with another soldier. When they weren't releived theystayed on guard untill eventually they decided to go and see what was wrong. They couldn't wake thier relief. To keep warm they'ed lit an old stove but the flu was blocked and everyone inside died from CO poisoning.

most of my family were farmers on both sides which meant a lot of them had protected occupations - but that didn't seem to stop them joining up
Unfortunately none of them ever talked much about what they did to anyone, my mum is busy researching her grandad and his brother who apparently both got medals in the trenches but no one knows why


My paternal grandad is the only one I knew personally, he was studying medicine for most of the war and was in the home guard at the same time. he spent a lot of time guarding the airfield (where I now work) next to the farm he lived on taking pot shots at heinkel's with is shotgun, but he qualified in 1943 and after ended up in northern France shortly after D day with the Royal Army Medical Corps.
He never talked much about his 'work' over there and he'd get quite upset just thinking about it. He loved talking about the time he spent riding from unit to unit all over northern France, Holland, Denmark and Germany on a motorbike - it sounded like he really enjoyed that bit of it, but he did have a real hatred for the Stuka pilots as he said they used to dive bomb and Strafe there convoy's and ambulances. In middle of all this he managed to get himself attached to the scottish horse, which he reckoned was one of the best regiments around, but thats all I know

He didn't get de-mobbed till 1947 as he was one of the doctors de-mobbing everyone else - apparently the biggest problem he had to deal with then was syphilis…

[Edited on 9/1/2012 by mcerd1]

This thread is producing some good stuff !

quote:

---

He was known as "Jack the Bastard"

---

My maternal grandfather said he was the fastest runner in Darwin, but not fast enough. He had the shrapnel scars on his back 'til he died. He was working on the jetty when the Japs bombed it, and was dirty at anything Japanese all his life. Apparently, he had his full tool kit with him at the pierhead when the bombs dropped, and everything went to the bottom of the harbour.

My uncle Jack drove ambulances in New Guinea. Said he often was driving past Japs in the jungle, to pick up wounded. He claimed he was the fastest runner in New Guinea, but he said everyone there would claim the same at some point.

My paternal grandfather did MacArthurs teeth! There is an odd story to tell on this.
My grandad would drill a hole and fill it with gold at the slightest sign of a scratch or anything, and was quite well known for his dental work.(He died in his chair, 78yrs old and still working) He had a couple of yanks attached to him at his surgery, to deal with the riff raff, and he did the officers.

One of these attached dental people was a guy called Schumpert. How I know this, you will see.

When I was working on the race yachts, I was in Fort Lauderdale, and had a worrying tooth. Summoned up the courage and booked an appointment at the local dentist, Schumpert and sons, on the east side of the 17th street bridge.

I'm sat in the chair, and the dentist looks at the goldwork, and says he only saw work like it in the war, in aus. He then looks at my card, and asks if I'm related to the fella he worked with in the war! You couldn't invent this stuff for a novel! Dr.Schumpert then invited me to meet his family, and proceeded to show me photographs of himself and my father fishing on the beach, and more of him with my family at the holiday house down the coast.

Incredible, that I was halfway around the world, having my teeth done by a guy that my grandfather had taught in Queensland during the second war. All true!

We also had a dear friend here, Derrick, who walked for three weeks with a group of five after Dunkerque, all the way to Caen. Took three weeks and they were brought back by a French fisherman. Derrick was then dropped in three days before D-Day, and by his words 'saw some gruesome things'. He didn't talk much about the war, as most who were there don't. One Sunday afternoon, after lunch, we were all sitting in the lounge watching 'A Bridge too Far', and one of my sons asked, 'was it really like that Derrick?' His reply is still remembered by all the family, 'Noooo, it was far, far worse. See that chap there, that's me'. Stunned silence. What can you say? He was actually there at the end of the bridge. When one of the boys asked if he'd killed any Germans, he replied 'far too many, God Forgive me.' Time to change the channel and the conversation, as the dear old gent was visibly upset. He would have been in his 80's at the time he said these things.

My wifes grandfather was a Colonel with the Gurkhas. I never met him, and from what is relayed about him, he would never speak of the war, under any circumstances.

I feel particularly privileged to have known these exceptional old men, and moreso that they said the little that they did.

Cheers,
Nev.

]

[Edited on 9/1/12 by Neville Jones]

My maternal grandfather didn't get involved in the war at all, he had lost his left leg in a mining accident a year before it set off.

My father had just enlisted about 2 months before the end when became of age so didn't see any action either, but he did manage to get himself shot in the leg in a firing range accident in 1958, I never knew his father.

[Edited on 9/1/12 by foskid]

[Edited on 9/1/12 by foskid]

This thread has unearthed some amazing tales of service & bravery from all corners of the world. I guessed there might be some moving/emotional tales of family history, I am stunned at what we have collectively written on this thread......



Quite a few of the entries have moved me to tears - Steve M ! count me in ...




Ivan

My maternal Grandad was in the East Lancs regiment at Caen, he was in an explosion (artillery or tank shot) and woke up in England, after a couple of months in hospital he was assigned to be a guard in a POW camp (permanently deaf in one ear).

My dad died when I was very young, so my Grandad took his place in my mind, "what would my grandad do in this postion etc." I spent hours on his knee listening to "war" stories. It wasn't until I got older that I realised every story he told was about the people he knew, not the fighting.

He told stories about the German POWs he made friends with and lots of stories, things like the POWs wore british uniforms with a big painted circle on the back to distinguish them from British soldiers.
Near the end of the war, and shortly after it ended, my grandad and the other guards would turn a blind eye while the Germans scrubbed the paint off their uniforms and went to the pub at the weekend

My grandad always admired the German soldiers he met, he said you just told a group of them what needed doing and one would act as the boss and they'd just get on with it.

I have some hand made gifts the prisoners made for him from bits of scrap wood and the bits of paint in the bottom of tins that were thrown out.
There's an Indian brave wooden plaque all colourfully painted, a very cleverly made wooden cigarette box and a ship in a bottle.

I miss him.

What a great thread, and i hope we get some pictures added,

Steve

Before my Grandmother died horrifically from bowel cancer, she used to relay stories about her job at the Woolwich Arsenal.

She used to work long hours assembling shells that were dropped on Germany, some endorsed with (what would now be)politically incorrect greetings for our (now) European friends.

Her description of what it was like to deal with the aftermath of the front of her house (in Welling) taken out wth a V1, and how everybody helped each other (what no selfish greed?).. uplifting.

Rest in peace.

The unpredictable randomness of the V1 & V2 must have been soul destroying.

[Edited on 9/1/12 by britishtrident]

My maternal grand father served with the 10th London Brigade Royal Horse Artillery during the first world war as a driver (I think, I never spoke to him knowingly as he died when I was about 2 years old). He served on the Somme (I believe) and was eventually demobed towards the end of the war after having spent a time convalessing after having survived being blown up and gassed ( a couple of times,so the story goes). He was cared for after the war by my maternal grandmother, who later went on to start up (with others) a small company called Adhesive Tapes Ltd (yep - Sellotape by another name). After my maternal grandmother died (I was about 18 months old then), my Grandfather then turned up one day at my parents house. No one knew that he was alive as she had paid for his care and treatment at Banstead Hospital (just outside Croydon, now a secure prison I believe). He survived a few more months then passed away himself.


My Father served in the RAF in the second world war as a fighter pilot, technically he was just in on the BoB, but as his squadron (609) became active again on the south coast, a posting request came in and as he was 'the last in' he was 'volunteered' for the posting. So he went back north from Detling to Liverpool (having only just come down from Lossiemouth) to be briefed about his posting.
26 men in the room (in Liverpool) rose when Laddie Lucas entered and said "Good Morning Gentlemen, take a look at the man on your left." Pause, "Now take a look at the man on your right", pause, " In three months they will both be dead." It turned out the posting was a six month posting to Malta.
Before the war my father had been with the Plaistow Swimming club and had the war NOT started then he would have been in the 'next' olympic swimming team, he weighed a fit 11st 10lbs naked, when he came back from Malta (after being on the Island for a total of 9 months, having been kept back for the Sicilly invasion), he weighed a massive 8st 10lbs in FULL uniform. It makes me wonder WHAT condition the general population of Malta must have been in because my father was on the better diet out there, BECAUSE he was a fighter pilot.


My Uncle served in the Red Berret's as a medical orderly in the Med at about the same time as my father was in the Med.

Dad's family were farmers & I've not heard anything of what they did so I suppose as farmers they did just that & wern't directly involved. My maternal Grandfather was a teacher but signed up fr the RAF anyway, failed medicals for aircrew & got stationed in Ireland guiding planes in etc. He met an Irish girl & she lives next door to us, my Gran! This means I owe my existance to Hitler I suppose!

My Great grandfather (walter) and his brother served in WW1. I'm told my great grandfather was a machine gunner. Both were at the somme and both lived until the end of the war. His brother caught the flu and was in a field hospital a few days after armistice day. A drunk captain set off a flare and the whole thing burnt down, killing his brother. After his return, Walter wasn't sober for a year, then he didn't touch another drop til he died (1970's i think) nor did he talk about the war.

Both of my granddads in protected professions, one on tfe railway and the other making aero engines for rolls Royce. Wife's maternal grandparents were in Burma at outbreak of war, grandad regular soldier grandma quite a well to do Anglo Indian lady.big house servants, cooks etc. When war came initially grandad posted overseas MIA for months till eventually grandma decided to get a job and joined up too. As she was posh joined as an officer. Husband then reappeared.

Horrific tales of the grandma and the kids having to leave everything behind and escape the Japanese. Eventually picked up in a clearing by an allied plane without even a bag to their name, lost everything but escaped alive.

Grandma had to learn to cook pretty quicky when they arrived in blighty having never needed to do it before!

Can i resurect this thread, as .... i dont know why, but our history, our parents, and grand parents, need remembering

All my lot were down't pit so so active service!

My dad's dad joined the RAF when he turned 18 in 1942. He was a rear-gunner in a Halifax. After achieving the near-impossible and completing a tour of duty (30 flights) he was reassigned to paras before the end of the war. Rear gunners were the first ones to be shot when the plane was attacked, so it was even more unusual for him to have survived.

He died when I was 1 year old and apparently he never once said anything about how many kills he had. He did share stories about other things that happened. Like when he accidentally dropped the entire payload on the runway before take off. Dad later found a website which recounted the story from someone else's perspective. It was an interesting read and gave some more details that dad didn't know about. He was also nearly court marshalled for trying to get on the plane for a big mission (Possibly the Normandy landings) while he had food poisoning.

After the war he was positioned in Palestine as a para. I don't know much about what he did there.


My mum's side were all farmers so they tended the fields and joined Dad's Army. They have a story that I still don't entirely believe. Apparently they had a German POW working for them who would cycle from the prison camp to their farm unescorted. He said he preferred living in Britain because he didn't have to fight a war he didn't support and he could just get on with life.

Deepest respect to all who participated in these conflicts. Terrible times.

My maternal grandfather and grandmother worked at Cambridge Instruments designing and producing gizmos during WWII.

Great grandfather on my mums side was in the RFC (forerunner to the RAF) in WW1. Now that was a dodgy game.

And lastly of all, talking to the mother in law today while celebrating her 80th birthday, it seems that whilst he was at school in old Hatfield just before the war the girls would carry out sewing practice by means of mending sheets etc up at Hatfield House. Whilst she was there His Lordship had some guests from time to time, a couple of young girls. Yes mum in law was playing with Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret...

My grandad was a tank driver, and a mechanic. He was on the first ship on the d-day landings.

Died a few years ago following the onset of dementia.

Edit: forgot to say, there is a 20ft poster of him in the national war museum, hanging out of a tank, his picture is also on a WW2 history book, forget the name but got a copy at my mums.


A few great uncles were all in the commando's all posted to Burma, horrendous place to be. Came back in a bad way, never got over it.

[Edited on 25/11/12 by BangedupTiger]

The wife's dad was a salmon fisherman on the Tay and ended up in the RN as a PO ASDIC operator on corvettes and destroyers mainly on the Russian convoys he had ships sink under him 3 times. but never ended up in the water. He was lucky not to be on Convoy PQ 17 but was on PQ 16 which was bad enough( 8 merchantmen lost out of 25).

A fellow P.O. on a couple of his ships was the artist H. R. " Tank " Wilson among her fathers papers my wife found a water colour (painted on the back of an old ASDIC log page) of a convoy forming up in Loch Ewe and she is in contact with the artist's daughter who was equally pleased that her fathers war art was treasured. After the war my father in lw went back to salmon netting on the silvery Tay.

The bravery of the 55,000 Arctic convoy veterans has never properly recognised by the the UK and (as with Bomber Command) no British campaign medal has been issued. This contrasts with the attitude of the Russian Government and people who regard the convoy veterans as major heros and have awarded The Medal of Ushakov which British citizens have not been t allowed to receive because it has been blocked by the UK Government.

It really is time the UK Government properly recognised the heroes of both the the 55,000 men of the Arctic Convoys and the similar number who were in Bomber Command.


[Edited on 25/11/12 by britishtrident]

Can i resurect this thread, as .... i dont know why, but our history, our parents, and grand parents, need remembering

Part two, not sure why, but rereading this thread, brings home what our parents, or more likely Grandparents did a good few years ago

Steve

My grandfather had a medal off the Queen, not sure what he did for it, probably nothing exciting, but still, who knows?


Did anyone see the PQ17 documentary Clarkson did? I can't find a link to it, bugger.

Also the 'Greatest Raid'? - Clarkson - Greatest Raid

Found this too - War Stories

I hope its a quiet day in work, I'm sticking my headphones in now

Its amazing how many people in the UK have links to war.

My Grandad on my mothers side was in the Royal Logistics Corps during WW2 stationed out in Africa. He drove a water carrier. He didn't come home for 6 years and we still have his letters. My Grandmother also received Telegrams saying he had been killed twice. He lived until 94! He also told a story about finding a smart looking pair of boots on the side of the road only to find feet in them!

My Great Grandad was a machine gunner and was killed in the Somme. My parents and I found his grave in northern France thanks to the WarGrave Commission. We were the first people to visit it.

My Grandad on my fathers side was in the Navy. He was a right Uncle Albert (only fools and horses) and he was sunk 3 or 4 times. The worst was when he was torpedoed up somewhere off Scapper Flow. We don't know much about what happened and my brother is researching it.

My Grandmother used to tell stories of seeing V1 flying bombs coming over. The fear of hearing that droning noise and then it suddenly stopping, then the short wait for the explosion. She called them Doodlebugs or something. A pleasant sounding name for something so nasty.

All very sobering thoughts though. I think we should remember these people. What they sacrificed us but more importantly as a lesson to us all.

Me n me brother used to ask the old man, our great grandfather, what he did during the war... 'Too old to be a soldier lad' he would say. What we didn't realise was he meant he was too old at the start of the first world war!

He was born in 1879 started down the pit when he was 14 and retired when he was 68. I was 11 when he died in 1975 still in the colliery house he got when he was 17!

He had 5 sons and two girl, one our granny, the men all worked at the pit, reserved occupation, the same one for their whole working lives, granny had a hot meal on the table for each one coming in and going out to work whatever time it was. She had a hot dinner on the table for us every dinner time for us all through school. She died in 2003 and I miss her dearly.

My maternal Grandad was a Chief Petty Officer with the RN, and was stationed in the Med, while my maternal Grandmother was a WRN and served in North Africa. I never met my grandmother as she passed away before I was born. My Grandad never spoke of the war, and when asked didn't provide many details.

My paternal Grandfather enlisted in the Canadian army, but never went to war. He was sent to the UK, then promptly returned to Canada. No idea why.

My maternal great Grandfather initially signed up for the Royal Field Artillery (WW1), deserted, joined the RNVR, was sent to Crystal Palace, caught and sent back to the RFA. Unfortunately, the only record i could find on him is the RNVR enlistment card that shows him being sent back to the RFA.

A maternal distant uncle, who actually boarded with my great grandfather in Glasgow, left Scotland bound for Australia and enlisted with the Australians when WW1 broke out. He was sent to Ypres where he met his end.