Commemorate someone who fought in WWII

My father was enlisted into the Navy. He trained in Largs/Bute and had a knack for morse code. He was posted as radio operator on convoy escort/minesweeping duties mainly in the Med/Straits of Gibraltar on one of “Harry Tates’ Navy”  wooden trawlers. I get the feeling it was quite busy, but he never seemed to indulge in stories of derring-do.

His ship/boat was in Malta on VE Day where he bumped into his brother, my Uncle Frank, which was a lovely unplanned coincidence.

My uncle Lithgow was a navigator on a Stirling bomber, shot down over Denmark. He was sheltered by some locals before being discovered by the Germans, and spent two years at the infamous Stalag-Luft III prison camp (as featured in the Great Escape)

In January 1945 the Germans, fearing the Russian advance, opened the gates and fled. The POWs had to make their way in the bitter cold back to safe territory.

“I remember one morning though, two British fighter planes were circling overhead, making to attack because they thought we were Germans. We tried to spell out ‘POWs’ with towels on the ground but they came in, all guns blazing. Twenty men died – friendly fire I think they would call it today. Just days later we were freed by the British…”

My mum’s dad was a pilot in Costal Command up in Scotland, Lossiemouth, where my mum was born in Elgin. He went on to train pilots in ‘heavies’ He left to settle in Rhodesia after the war, leaving his wife, (my Gran) all by herself with no support, thanks Dick.

My Dad’s dad was employed by the  gas board, and exempt, although he was called out to bombed houses quite often to make them safe, and active in the home guard.

Story: A close friend of the family was a Nav on Lancs. Once on a trip to Munich in the 1980’s to attend an air show the hotel receptionist asked him if he’d ever been to Munich before…”Sort of” he answered coyly. Later in the war he flew transfer B-17s across the Atlantic back and forth, he said it was quite dull, once he was eating a sandwich when a blob of jam fell onto his map board, he made the pilot correct course to fly “around it” on the map.

As I’m 50 this year, I have been privileged to know many people who served in the Second World War.  Here are a few that have stayed with me.

Leslie, was on the beaches at Dunkirk, he was lucky enough to be picked up and then the ship was bombed and he was hit by shrapnel in the head and ended up back in the water.  He was promptly rescued, and then returned to the UK.  Several operations later – his badly fractured skull, was repaired with an internal metal plate.  He was invalided out of the army, and then joined the Home Guard.

My great-grandfather Tom, was in the Royal Navy, a stoker on a submarine, largely serving in the Atlantic.  I don’t have a specific example – but I have always been amazed by his fortitude.  Spending so much of the war, in a very confined space in huge danger.

On the other side of my family, my step great-grandfather, Fred was too old to serve and continued as an engine driver for GWR.  His engine was often the target for bombers, as railways were a strategic target.  He often, had to pull his engine into tunnels to avoid bombs.

My great-uncle Eric, landed on of the initial waves at Normandy on D-Day.  He saw many of those who landed alongside, including many friends.  He luckily survived the war – moving through France and Germany, completing his service in the early 1950’s.  Once again, I’m astounded by the courage he and his fellow soldiers displayed.

All of them were truly lovely, gentle men.  You couldn’t believe the horrors they had witnessed and survived.

When he was deployed it was secret but he wanted to let his wife know where he was

There’s a famous Spike Milligan letter where he also is told not to reveal where he is, but tries to anyway… Sanjeev Bhasker reads it here:

My grandfather Bill Truman was a stoker and then an engine room petty officer.  He was initially posted to the Hood, but was transferred to submarines.  He survived the war but I don’t rmember him talking about it, nor does my mother, just hints here and there.

My other grandfather George was a tommy, and my great uncle Ted was a fireman on Mepal airbase which hosted Lancasters.

I used to go running a long time ago with an old chap called John Trotter who’d been a tail gunner on a Lancaster and remembered it as a distinctly unpleasant experience

On my side of the family, my grandad before the war drove a bakers delivery truck and played footie for Brighton and Hove Albion, when he joined up as he was already a good driver, he was a despatch driver with Royal Army Ordnance Corps, he was a very quiet, hard working man, and said very little, most of what i have are from annotated newspapers, coming from Portsmouth, when we had the 50 year celebrations in 1994, he took the local The News paper and annotated images of exactly where he had landed on Gold Beach on D-Day, and his path in-land.

He never said very much at all until they opened the D-Day museum and i took him down, and he just said how scary it had been in the landing craft coming in, with the constant shelling of naval guns overhead. But that strangely he had enjoyed his time, and made great friends.

I know that running despatches and messages forwards, he was there when they liberated a “work camp”, one where they had jewish and others work until they had almost had it, then shipped them to the actual death camps as he called them, and i know that it stuck with him.

He was in Germany until well in to 1945 and played in a famous football match against German POW’s in Munich, i will try and find the photo.

He also said that when we went to Austria together, something about German POW’s drinking the watered down fuel for V1 rockets to get pissed.

His wife, my nan, was a nurse at the naval hospital at Haslar, she met and married one Lancaster gunner, who got killed 8 days after the wedding. She then met my grandad at a dance apparently, she explained this meeting as ” i liked the look of him, so i put my handbag under his chair”! She refused to marry him til the war was over though.

I have been trying to research my in-laws family on FIL’s request. His father was one of three brothers, he and one brother were in the Royal Norfolks, both brought home from Dunkirk, the brother Leslie, suffered terrible “shell-shock” and never went on a boat again, not even the Broads. His father went onto  Burma and was on the terrible death march, which left him with life long health problems and recurrent malaria.

The third brother, was a bit of a git, he got to stay at home as he was the oldest and ran the family farm (which he then sold and gave nothing to his brothers causing a life long feud) apparently he was a bit of a lad, and liked to sleep around with local wives and girlfriends of men overseas. This is very Norfolk, but apparently in the early 60’s when his son started courting a local girl from a nearby village, they had to take him aside and tell him to stop as there was a good chance they might be brother and sister!

My wife’s aunt, Doris, she was german, but escaped to the UK, we know she wasn’t jewish, but was persecuted for some reason, we think for being the daughter of an outspoken university lecturer, but she literally left with just the clothes on her back.

Both my grandads were too young for active service in WWI, and too old for WWII. However during WWII, one served in Bath’s Home Guard, and the other built Spitfires, probably in Swindon. My Grandma remembered watching dog-fights in the skies above Bath, and my dad’s earliest memory was her wrapping him in blankets and carrying him, running for the air-raid shelters.

I have vague memories of that same Grandma once telling me about ‘Charlie’ who was killed in WWII. I remembered she said he was an officer’s batman, and was shot while protecting his CO.

I recently looked into my family tree and discovered that this had to have been one CHARLES EDMUND BRADBEER, my Grandma’s cousin (and my first-cousin twice-removed). He was born in Alfreton, Derbyshire, and worked as a floor-fitter until called-up. He then served as a Driver in the Royal Corps of Signals, 8th Armoured Division, and was killed in action 1st November 1942, El Alamein. He’s buried at the War Cemetery there.

My grandpa and my mum’s uncle both fought in North Africa.

Grandpa lied about his age (can’t remember what the minimum age to fight was but he was a year under) and got sent to North Africa, I think via Istanbul or somewhere (I have some of his old cigarette cases he bought from places he went through).

Mum’s uncle was in a tank in the desert. Moving at the head of a convoy, the tank broke down so the one behind it overtook it whilst they tried to fix it. 5 minutes later the new lead tank took a direct hit from a German tank parked behind a dune.

Neither talked about the war when we were kids and both died before I reached an age where I’d have quizzed them a bit more about it (but been conscious that they may not have wanted to talk about it…). One ended up being a draughtsman (Murco petrol stations – he designed the logo that they used in the 80s… not sure if its still the same one used today) and the other worked in a big chemical plant making fertiliser (and the stories he told me about that made it sound worse than North Africa during WW2!).

Out of interest, is it possible to research online about stuff like where your relatives were based and what they did during the war? As above, only got 2 very small bits of information but its something I’d be dead interested in looking into more now they’re not here to ask.

My mum’s dad had served between the wars but was invalided out before it all kicked off. He did reach the giddy heights of Corporal in King’s Royal Rifle Corps but the stripes were never permanent as he was regularly busted for infractions.

Dad’s dad Duncan served as a battery commander in Anti-Aircraft gunnery somewhere in or around the Fens we were never told where. Then decamped to Austria to help with the partition and stayed after that was wound up. One Austrian “wife” died on him and we have cousins out there still. Second wife proper was found in North Italy and they were married for 40 years. Her father was the Graz Burgermeister (I’m entitled to be buried in the Graz Friedhof in the family plot as a result) and served in Kaiser Franz Joseph’s army in the first war as a Major General. His swagger stick was willed to the cousins by my Oma.

Wife’s father flew bombers in Burma and he didn’t talk about it as Ulstermen of his era were prone to be a tad closed to everyone. Pictures of FO Best on leave in Egypt show him to be a dapper rogue as he proved by marrying the MIL when she was 3 months pregnant in 1950!

Great Uncle Alf served in the disatrous Dieppe raid and saw the war out as a POW as a result. Thanks Winston!

Great Uncle Harry served in Merchant Marine and had a couple of run in’s with officious NAAFI personnel who were reminded that the tea they served had been brought in by his service. (Still didn’t get served but he felt better for it). Keen amateur boxer and trained others for a bit after the war.

Uncle John was in the merchant navy and part of the Malta Convoy operation, ship got hit & he decided to stay on board rather than jump into the burning oil, ended up stranded on Malta for some time where conditions were pretty grim. Was a real character & voted man of the month at his local gym a few weeks before he passed away in his 90’s.

My mother’s father. Eric Watters.

Went ashore at Arromanches (Gold Beach) on D+6 and then all the way to the bitter end in Germany. He had learned Morse in the Scouts, so was moved from Infantry to Signals, which probably saved his life. The Morse never left him and he would “tap out” messages as he talked.

He had a camera permit, because he was a keen photographer, so I have lots of pictures of him and his mates stood around in ill-fitting trousers.

I have his medals, his camera, his photos, his paybook and discharge papers and some stuff that he “acquired”, including nazi insignia that is brand new and hadn’t even been stitched onto a uniform.

My other grandad was a bit older and in a reserved occupation, delivering chemical supplies around the North West.

My Great Uncle Percy was in Burma and woke up screaming every night until he died, 44 years later.

“Twenty men died – friendly fire I think they would call it today. Just days later we were freed by the British…”

There’s a similar story in the book Lancaster by John Nichol. Freed from a camp after 4 or 5 years hardship a column of British POWs were attacked by RAF Typhoons, dozens killed and dozens injured, total carnage

Grandfather 1. Sergeant Durham light infantry. Sicily, D Day all the way to Germany. He had PTSD.

Grandfather 2. Merchant Navy, Russian Convoys

Uncle 1. Border Regiment Gliders, Sicily, Arnhem badly woulded.

Uncle 2. Royal Marines – Landing craft gunner- Omaha Beach, crossing the Rhine

Uncle 3. Royal Engineers- Sicily Italy  building Bailey Bridges

Uncle 4. Northumberland Fusiliers- North Africa.

Uncle 5/6. Royal Artillery- North West Europe.

Uncle 7. London Rifles – got left in Greece

All nice people, all at my wedding.

Out of interest, is it possible to research online about stuff like where your relatives were based and what they did during the war? As above, only got 2 very small bits of information but its something I’d be dead interested in looking into more now they’re not here to ask.

If you know the unit/capbadge you can search to see if there is a regimental association or museum.

The modern iterations of some units do have regimental records from throughout their lineage. There’s also a vast amount of amateur and professional historians that gather data. Also members of the Guild of Battlefield Guides may also be really good sources of information.

I have some contacts at IWM and Royal Armouries so more than happy to help.

My maternal grandfather never saw any action, but was captured early on in the war and spent most of it as a POW in Germany.

Unsurprisingly when he came back he suffered dreadfully from depression for the rest of his life.

He never spoke about it.

On a brighter note, he died peacefully sat in his favourite chair with a glass of whisky in his hand whilst my grandmother was cooking dinner.

I also remember an old Polish miner I knew who had PTSD from his time as a partisan when he was picked up with his best friend by the Gestapo, and made to watch them throw his friend out of the window, before they let him go.

My paternal grandmother was born in Germany and emigrated to the UK at the age of fourteen.  She married my grandfather (also of German ancestry) in 1913.  My grandfather eventually found himself at the Somme, probably shooting at members of his extended family.  After the war, my grandparents had five children, my father being the youngest.

Uncle John joined the army and was posted to Singapore in 1941.  John was a very handsome chap, he bore an uncanny resemblance to a David Bowie.  He was captured by the Japanese and held as a POW for the remainder of the war, as slave labour building a railway.  The rest of the family had no idea that uncle John had survived the capture of Singapore until 1945, when a telegram arrived at the family home.

Uncle Frank joined the RAF as an aircraft engineer and was posted to South Africa.  Frank apparently had a thing for going AWOL and trying to make his way to Singapore to find his brother John (see above).  After the war, Frank emigrated to Australia and became a Catholic lay minister and a committed pacifist.

Uncle Bert ran away from home, lied about his age and joined the army before being sent to Burma as an artilleryman.  Bert told me that his unit had been sent to a base that had just been taken from the Japanese by Gurkhas, who had taken the time to neatly arrange the dismembered Japanese soldiers on the parade ground.  Bert’s hearing was permanently damaged by the noise from the guns.  When he was demobbed and sent back to the UK, he rebuilt his bicycle and used it to travel around post-war Europe.

My grandparents, aunt and her husband visited Bingen-am-Rhein; my grandmother’s home town in Germany after WW2.  Her uncle Rudi ran a gasthaus, but he refused to even open the door to my grandmother’s party.  Rudi lost two sons who were Luftwaffe aircraftsmen at Stalingrad.

Grandfather in law was a radar operator on HMS Curacao, who claimed that smoking saved his life. He went a cigarette with a colleague at the end of his shift on board during a troop convoy. The ship zigged when it should have zagged and was hit by the SS Queen Mary which was moving troops. The rest of his shift died in the sinking as they were below decks. Him and his colleague survived the worst Navy friendly sinking incident of the war.

My grandfather fought everywhere in western europe. He was in the BEF in 1940, and came back wounded from Dunkirk. Then he was sent to the western desert where his unit was attached to the 7th Armoured, where he fought from 1941 to 1943 including both battles of El Alamein. Landed on Sicily and then Italy. Brought back to the UK in early 1944, then landed in France on DDay +6, and ended up on the banks of the Rhine. He was Irish so had deserted the Irish Army to join the British Army as he wanted to see the action. He was demobilised, missed the army and rejoined ending up in the Korean War amongst others.

Oddly enough I don’t know anyone in my family who fought.  My mum’s dad was too short to fight so had a desk job in the RAF during the war; my dad’s dad was a miner so was needed at home. That said, there was a point they didn’t need him to mine so they sent him to the Midlands to work in a factory making guns or something. My dad’s mum worked in a munitions factory and I think it either got bombed or there was an explosion whilst my Nan was working, and she had a piece of shrapnel through her arm that left a big dent in it.  That’s all.  I don’t know about anyone else.

One grandfather was a gunner on HMS Rodney. Shelled various parts of Italy and the Far East. His two brothers both served too (RAF and Army), but neither left the mainland. He never spoke about it but kept his medals in a tin box. His wife had a twin who married a Canadian GI and then emigrated. The other grandfather built Lancaster Bombers at Jaguar Brown’s Lane factory in Coventry in a protected profession.

Ace thread this.

My Grandpa – Idris Roberts – as the name suggests of Welsh background but he was Australian – was a gunner and one of the Rats of Tobruk. My mum doesn’t know much more – he didn’t really ever talk about it. Spent his life after the war as a dairy farmer in Gippsland (east of Melbourne).

Maternal grandad was in Libya. I know he drove lorries, doing logistics. At least, that’s what I was told. He never once spoke about it.

Paternal grandad was an architect, and was required to continue being an architect throughout the war, so never saw active service. My dad was at school during war years and has stories of playing outside with mates and finding the odd dropped shell and dud bomb. The house they lived in had the windows blown out when the one over the road got totalled. The family were in the Anderson shelter, under the stairs, at the time. They’re near Southampton which got a fair amount of damage due to shipbuilding and aircraft industries.

Complete antithesis to all the other posts here, but wife’s grandad was a London market trader at the start of the war, by all accounts a bit of a real life Del Boy, but not quite so soft hearted, he was called up, but pretended to be mad to avoid the draft, he made a fortune as a ‘spiv’ wheeling and dealing on the black market.

He owned a large truck and got a contract transporting Italian POW’s to a camp in (iirc) the West Country, one day it broke down in the middle of nowhere when it was full of Italian prisoners, he was bricking it, fully aware how vulnerable he was, there was no police or military escort. All the POW’s got out, fixed the truck for him and carried on their way to the camp!

made a fortune as a ‘spiv’

I think crime increased during the war – helped by blackouts. My maternal grandfather was in the Civil Defence in London. He said they’d get to the site of a bombing and people would be talking jewellery from the rubble and even corpses.

https://vcgca.org/our-people/profile/1777/Edward-Albert-HEMING

I thought he was too old to serve but he was only 29 when war broke out. Not sure if being a milkman was classed as protected occupation.

His younger brother got captured at Dunkirk so the story goes and spent many years as a POW. I recall seeing letter from him with “Stalag Luft” written on them.

My Nan was evacuated to Norfolk with one of my uncles.  One day taking a walk with uncle in a pram., they were strafed by a German fighter so she packed up and moved back to London.

My paternal grandfather would have been early to mid 30s at the outbreak so I guess too old by the time conscription was in force. He had served in the Welsh Buffs in India in the 1920s so I would have thought he’d be a reservist. Tho as my Nan had lost 2 uncles in WWI and detested Churchill having witnessed the soldiers putting down the Tonypandy Riots I doubt she wouldn’t have let him volunteer. As Napoleon found out, you never take on Mam!

her younger had joined the merchant navy pre war as a lad and stayed a merchantman even when he turned 18. He did a few arctic convoys.

My dad was in the RAF serving as ground crew on Blenheim fighter-bombers in Singapore. When Singapore fell to the Japanese he was incarcerated in Changi, a place with a notorious reputation for the treatment of the PoW’s.
He never talked about it, and I never saw him without a shirt on, due to the scars on his back. He died when I was 13, at the age of 45; maybe if he’d lived longer he might have been able to tell me more, but he had a book about Changi which I read, and it explained his reluctance to talk about it – the treatment of the prisoners was appalling, many never survived the brutality of the Japanese guards.

He did tell me about the Gurkha guards around the camp, and what they used to get up to after dark, and why the Japanese soldiers were terrified of them, and he had huge respect for them.

The Fall of Singapore: The Fall of Empire

Changi POW camp