I was thinking, in light of @kormoran's thread on the Second World War, and in light of the recent D-Day commemorations, that many of us probably had relatives who fought between 1939 and 1945. That being the case, it wouldn't be a bad idea to remember them here.
So, whatever your nationality, and whatever your relative did, if you have a link to their story or just know something about them yourself, tell us.
I'll start.
My great-uncle Murray Schneider was a Squadron Leader in the RCAF, having first flown a Wellington, then a Halifax, then a Lancaster. He was shot down twice and survived, before losing his life after returning from Germany over Yorkshire, where he was downed by 'friendly fire'. His full story can be found here.
Because I grew up close to my grandparents, and my grandfather (Murray's older brother) was exempted from service due to an injury, he would spend hours telling me about Murray. Consequently, I feel to some degree as if I knew him. My was given his medals and other items before my grandfather died, as he wanted me to be custodian of them.
We crewed a couple of Lancasters iirc.
Sgt Eric Parker. A teacher who initially joined the army, then transferred when the call went out for aircrew. He was an Observer (cross trained navigator/bombaimer/radio operator) who flew with 214 Squadron in Stirlings. He was shot down and killed with most of his crew returning from Essen on the night of 11/12March 1943.
He was my great uncle (grandad’s brother) and as the first of my generation of the family I am named after him.
My grandfather was in the Medical side - ambulance crew. Not sure where he served but ended up as a Japanese POW for some time, and never talked about the war. Must have been horrendous.
My grandad on one side was Irish, and on the other was exempt due to being a teacher (I think?)
Shout out to RAF navigator Ernest Sinfield, who came home in 1944, knocked up the wife, went back to war and got shot down weeks later. He never saw his son Mark, aka MrsDoris' dad. His family never really learned what he got up to in the war. His poor wife was diagnosed with Parkinson's in her 20's, and his kids grew up as avowed pacifists.
One grandad was a farmer, he was in the Home Guard and didn't fight too many axis forces
I don't know much about the other, he died when my dad was still at school
Other grandad built tanks !
My uncle was a commando at Dieppe, and was picked up by a Royal Navy ship after swimming for a mile (?) after it all went wrong. He never talked about it. Must have been horrendous.
My grandfather on my mums side was in the Duke of Cornwall Light Infantry and spent some time liberating northern France, he even got a military honour for single-handedly capturing five German soldiers, though from his account they didn’t even attempt to resist as they were just glad they weren’t shot. He then went on to peacekeeping post in Germany where he met my (German) grandmother who lived with her family in the local pub. My mum was born in the back room of the pub.
My grandfather on my dad’s side was a desert rat in North Africa clearing mines. He never talked about the war but it clearly traumatised him as not long before he died and dementia set in he kept getting horrific flashbacks and was convinced he was back serving. War is ****ing grim.
My grandad only ever spoke of his time in the army once that I remember. I was very young and the story was about leaving some wire clippers behind as he had to get a boat off the beach - Dunkirk but I only found out much later as he never spoke of it. Might have been apocryphal but there was also a story about going AWOL from the Scottish borders and hitch hiking to Salford to visit my grand mother. As a child I only ever saw him as an old man and it wasn't until he was long gone that I really thought that he would have been a young man at the time.
My wife's granddad was a Polish Jew who fled to the UK to join the Army leaving everything behind (he lost contact with he whole family). Spent much of his time in Africa. He actually wrote a book of his life which we have somewhere. Always considered himself very lucky despite his young adult life as many in the same situation didn't grow old. We mostly chatted when I visited him with my wife. Him in his 90's and I was a good excuse to go to the pub and drink brandy!
Mother's side grandfather was in the Royal Artillery. Fought in Africa (many extremely scary stories), fought in Italy. Got captured, escaped, got shot, kept escaping and ended up finishing the war out fighting with the Italian partisans.
If I had to remember one story about him it would be the one where he was trying to demonstrate a one man band to the local kids (pan lids tied to knees, etc) when the Germans rolled into town and he had to leg it, complete with attached cooking implements.
He taught me how to fish.
My great Uncle who died aged 98 on Saturday. Submariner for 4 years from 41, trained all over Scotland, and then travelled the world, only seeing the occasional port. He was still going to the Submariner Assn meet ups until around 6 years ago, and attended every Armistice day parade.
And my Grandad, served in the Navy. I did a lot of research into his Service a few years ago. Who knew most Naval recruits went to Butlins in Skegness for their basic training? He then went on a number of smaller ships, two of which were torpedoed. He was reprimanded after the second sinking, he didnt drink, so sold his (daily?) rum ration, and made quite a lot of spare cash out of that. When they were torpedoed, he went back to his quarters to collect his cash, when he knew the ship was sinking, the Officers knew what he’d done and he was put on report for endangering himself and other crew members. He had a few months stay in South Africa until the Navy posted him onto Warspite, which was the Fleets biggest ship, he saw active service on that until 3 days after D-Day, when Warspite had to withdraw as the guns were worn out (imagine that, firing so many rounds that the 16” guns were worn out). It wasnt until February 1946 that he was released from Service.
My grandfather on my Dad's side was exempt from service (farmer).
My grandfather on my Mum's side was a signaller in the Navy, stationed up in Scapa Flow and some time in the North Atlantic. His ship was involved (minor role) in the famous chase of the Bismarck as it rounded Scotland into the North Atlantic before later being sunk by a combination of torpedoes and shelling from other battleships.
Right up to his dying day, even as he descended into dementia, he could still "speak" fluent Morse and semaphore. He'd just sort of default to it - you could give him a sequence of dots and dashes by light or sound and he'd slip into a sort of "concentration mode" and reel off the message instantly. He was never wrong. He was in a radio ham club in his later years and they'd never seen anything like it. When he took his Morse test, they gave him a basic trial and he recited it word perfect and they were like "ooh...errr...OK that's all correct, I think we can just pass you now..."
He had a "mate" in the RAF, a mechanic who'd worked on Spitfires. This guy used to come round every once in a while and they'd "work" on the car for a bit. They did **** all on the car, just ripped the piss out of each other mercilessly.
"Flying? You never did a day of flying, you were in the NAAFI the whole damn time!"
"Better in the NAAFI than in a rustbucket like yours in the sea! That was never a proper boat, I've seen better boats in my bathtub!"
My grandfather was evacuated from Dunkirk on HMS Anthony (his second son was named after the ship).
He later qualified as a military parachutist and joined the 4th Parachute Batallion, stationed to North Africa and deployed to mainland Italy.
He was shot through the shoulder, the bullet grazing his spine, outside of Melone in Italy and medically discharged in 1944. He eventually recovered from his paralysis and lived to the ripe old age of 82.
He lost too many friends to tell any war stories to inquisitive kids.
My grandfather, Ron, was a tail gunner in a Lancaster.
He lived to mid -80's basically died of old age. My grandmother was always his boss though, despite the fact he was a legit war hero.
My grandfather was ships steward on a boom defence vessel out of Oban.
Most of his life he had said he was on another ship - and that lie included staying quiet when 'his' boat was towed to Rosyth to be scrapped in 1984 an the whole wider family headed up so he could stand and say goodbye...
Turns out he/his boat was involved in Operation Dragoon, in all sorts of action around Italy and various islands, and then lots around Oban, Scapa Flow and Norway. The reason he didn't tell the truth is that his boat was dropping off mini subs and other special operations in Norway.
The time in board saw him as first aider. After the war he went on to become one of the first male nurses in the UK.
My grandad was an electrician with the Royal Engineers, in Burma during the war. I only ever heard one story directly from him:
He was the last one left of his unit, stranded on top of a hill, surrounded by Japs. He ran out of bullets, stood up to throw something at them, tripped over and went rolling down the hill in the snow, gathering more and more until he was inside a huge snowball and knocked all the Japs flying like ninepins.
When he got back to England he was called to see the Queen, he said "Wotcher Liz!", she said "Wotcher Alfred!" and gave him a medal the size of a dustbin lid.
No one's ever denied this, must be true!
When he was deployed it was secret but he wanted to let his wife know where he was, so she received a letter to Mrs B Johnson. Next letter to Mrs U Johnson, next to Mrs R... until she sent him a reply saying "what are you on about, my name's Ivy not B or U or R" which of course got caught by the censors and he got into big trouble sharpish 😂
Slightly OT but as we're doing war stories... my grandmother was in London during the Blitz with a new baby (my uncle). One evening she had a really bad feeling, a premonition if you like, about the baby being upstairs asleep in the cot so she went and took him downstairs with her. Shortly afterwards a bomb went off and the the ceiling fell in, directly into the cot!
Grandad Sewell was in Burma with Gurkha troops against Japan, he never spoke much of the war but was always in awe of the Gurkhas who he said he owed his life on several occasions to. He was also a band leader in Newcastle before and after the war and had some sort of role with entertainment as well.
Grandad Virgoe could have avoided being called up, he was from a family of market gardeners and could have stayed to grow veg for the effort, but signed up and went to North Africa and Italy as an Engineer. Again, never spoke much of it but from what I remember he went in by glider to southern Italy. The one story he did tell that really affected him was when he was billeted with the Canadians in the grounds of Petworth House, when the local school was bombed.
My FiL a WW2 pilot who passed a few years back in his 90s
Years ago a mate of mine was going out with a girl who’s dad was in the Luftwaffe, plane was shot down and he parachuted out, taken prisoner of war and held at pow camp in Durham, he met his would be wife around the time the war finished and spent the rest of his life in Durham. he never returned to Germany, I suspect he was from East Germany, which would explain the reluctance to go back.
@oldnpastit I hope the comment wasn't a piss take ? Hopefully genuine. We tried to ask my granded about it, even my mum never knew the full details other than he came back skin and bone. Served his working career as a postie once back home. It was before my mum was born and she had never got any further than we did (even school projects).
Grandad on my mum's side was Seaforth Highlanders, don't know much about him as he died shortly after the war. Seen pics of him in the desert so I presume fought in the desert war and right through to the end.
Grandad on my mum's side was in the Intelligence Corps, initially did generic int stuff and then specialised in photographic intelligence from air reconnaissance. Ended up Nazi hunting in Austria after the war.
Also on my dad's side his two uncles joined the fledgling Parachute Regiment, the older one being 2 Commando/11 SAS. The younger one joined right at the end of the war and pretty much went straight to the middle east, Palestine/Aden.
Got lots of other relations who were in during the war, Army, Navy and Air force but don't know much about them which is something I would like to find out about.
Off topic but as you might guess I come from a long line of military serving families, my dad was in the Engineers, Germany, Cyprus and Malaysia. His Great,Great..........Grandfather was a survivor of the Charge of the Light Brigade, Crimea Medal with Four Bars no less
On the other hand, despite two grandads serving, and my wife's dad doing REME service, BIL went in Navy for a bit. Never saw active service, his ship was posted to Faulklands after the war - he has the 'medal' and is out doing all the parades etc.
Other BIL was a paratrooper in N. Ireland. Basically a mad man, poor husband/dad etc etc after what he experienced. He never talked about it.
My mum's dad was an RAF pilot, shot down twice, first flying Hurricanes in Africa, he crash landed and walked through the desert until he came across the last truck in a British convoy that had broken down and was being fixed. An hour later or slightly different direction and he would have died out there.
The second time he was shot down off the coast of Italy, swam for a few miles until an Italian patrol boat picked him up. He was eventually transferred to Stalag Luft 3 and was in line to take part in the Great Escape, until some more senior officers were transferred in a couple of weeks prior and he got bumped off the list, luckily for him.
He was a prisoner until the end of the war under some pretty brutal conditions, for the rest of his life he always made sure there was a much food as possible in the house so he would never have to risk hungry again. My granny would wake up in the night to find him in the kitchen, checking the cupboards.
Like so many others he never really told us all this stuff, he was always very stoic about his own experience but would always turn conversation to be about the other men he served with. I can't imagine going through what him and his generation did and being able to live a normal life afterwards.He was the person I most looked up to when I was a kid, and even 15 years after he died I still miss him.
My FIL Roderick Mackenzie was born in 1908. Was in the Royal Scots Greys before WW2. Don't know much about his WW2 service other than he was in the desert. He died when my other half was 13 so I never met him.
According to Wikipedia the Scots Greys were in Palestine 1939-41 still on horses. In fact mounted a cavalry charge in 1940. Long after the war my FIL still had his riding whip.
and never talked about the war. Must have been horrendous.
My grandad (my mum's side) was the same. All the family know is that he served in Burma, and had a few medals, which he only ever wore at remembrance. He apparently despised people who wore their medals at other times like some sort of trophy to be proud of.
My other grandad was a farm worker and only parent, so he was never called up.
Grandad/Dunkirk. 51st Highland division.
As far as im aware he didnt make it out with the rest and escaped day/s later. He was i think in supply/transportation as a corporal. TBH we don't actually know the full story.
Mum thinks he was at Normandy too, but we're not entirely sure.
My grandad was in REME, he was wounded in Arnhem, and finished the war as a POW. He was disabled for the rest of his life. He told me quite a lot of his stories from the war, having not really told them to anyone else. He flew into Arnhem in a Horsa glider, and landed with a push bike apparently!
The foxhole that he was in took a direct hit from a mortar, the other occupant was killed instantly. Well in to the 80's he was still having shrapnel and bits of uniform removed from his leg. I've not got a picture to hand, but there's a photo of him in his uniform at my parents.... bloody good looking bloke!
Top grandad too, he passed away aged 94 in 2014. Ten years on I still miss him a lot, he was a great guy.
No immediate family saw wartime service however a couple of blokes I met and got to know in old folks homes:
One chap fairly posh from Edinburgh and a doctor. He actually landed on the D Day beaches. Another - not so posh chap at all who served in the merchant marine on the Atlantic convoys
I talked to them a lot and listened to their stories. I found it humbling
Lest we forget
I know very little really of both my grandads service during WW2. When they were alive they both took the attitude that it was something that had to be done, but it was in the past, and they didn't like to talk about it much.
The small bits of info I could get out of them was when we did wartime 'How we used to live' books at primary school.
One on mum's side was a gunner in North Africa campaign, mum always called him her Desert Rat. The way he described it was it was either really hot or really cold, sand got everywhere, and they had to move around alot! He also said he wasn't a fan of Monty, but he was out there with some great lads, and they did have a laugh at times despite the conditions. After WW2 He worked as a brickie all his working life and was always a joker who enjoyed being in the pub with beer in hand. I know he suffered all his life from pretty servere tinnitus which he said was from the big guns.
On Dad's side I know he was a RSM who fought in the battle of the Bulge. I couldn't get much more out of him than that, but my dad said he (grandad) kept in touch with some families in Belgium for years after the war. He was a great bear of a man with a booming voice who could put the fear of God in you if he was in a bad mood, but also had a softer caring side. He sold insurance, mortgages and financial advice after the war and fixed bikes in his spare time.
I miss them both.
My grandad Normal Schofield, Flight Engineer in a Halifax bomber of 424 squadron, a Canadian outfit based at Skipton-on-Swale. He died when I was quite young so I never spoke to him first hand about his experiences, but here's a log he kept of his Halifax ops in 1944 including loads of sorties over Normandy in June 1944, and the black reference to a sortie to Happy Valley (Ruhr). After Bomber Command he ended up doing transport runs to the Middle and Far East. That's him top middle of the crew photo.
Norman. Not Normal.
My paternal grandfather was in the Royal Engineers in WW1 attached to the Black Watch for most of his time in the trenches and acted as a fire warden in WW2. My maternal grandfather was not fit due to cancer surgery pre war but was a manager for RFD manufacturing life rafts and life jackets for the forces. Two of my great uncles served with the eighth army in the western desert and then Italy. Neither talked about it to me. A third was killed in the Steinbock raids ( baby -Blitz) in January 1944 whilst under training.
Another uncle was a conscientious objector in WW2, joined the Society of Friends Ambulance unit and served in the western desert and Italy helping develop blood transfusion services . The work they did was incorporated into development of the National Blood Transfusion Service in 1946
My grandfather on my dad’s side was a plate machinist at Doxford engine works in Sunderland producing their opposed piston marine diesel engines. As a specialist he was in a reserved occupation and so was not called up, but instead served in the home guard. I get my love of engineering and bicycles from him. He taught me to ride when I was 4.
My grandfather on my mum’s side, despite being an Irish national, served in the British Merchant Navy as a Radio Officer. He worked North Atlantic and Pacific /Indian convoys bringing supplies from India via Suez to England and from The States to both England and The Soviet Union. He was torpedoed twice in service in the Pacific and the Atlantic, somehow miraculously surviving. One of the few stories he told to my gran was of coming off watch on the AA gun, going inside for a brew, to then hear the ship being strafed, with the person taking over being obliterated.
We’re currently working to posthumously get him his Arctic Star.
I have his service binoculars which still work resonantly well, though they’re a little out of alignment now. I also treasure his Avo 40 series which is an Admiralty pattern 48A from 1939. I love how the battery compartment lid has somehow gotten lost so he’s made one out of what looks like a floor tile and then written his name and address on there as well. Brave guy, he didn’t have to go to war. He could have stayed at home on the farm in neutral Ireland and worked the land.
After the war he went to work for Marconi designing and installing radar systems on ships, I assume at first in Belfast and then moving to Sunderland in 1952. He built a Green & Black™️ TV from an old radar set for my mum and gran in their new home. I get my love of electronics from him.
My dad joined up before the war in order to get out of the pit where he had been since leaving school at 13. He was a decent amateur musician and quickly got into the regimental dance band and was due to make the move to the main regimental band. Then some bastard decided to start a war.
He was part of the attempt to secure the Corinth Canal and his entire unit was overrun by the Germans in Greece. Only a few men and officers escaped. He spent the next few years as a PoW in Austria - Stalag 18A, see below.
Eventually the Americans liberated the camp (having once bombed it as it apparently looked a bit like the goods yard down the road), the guards having vanished overnight.
After the war he was posted to Northern Germany as part of the occupying forces. There he met my mum in a dance hall (she had been a telephonist with the German army in Latvia) and the rest as they say...
I learned about WWII from both sides for which I am grateful.
My paternal Grandfather was in the RAF. He kept a meticulous flight diary that spent some time on display at the BoB museum. He recorded every flight and any 'interesting' details. He's in the middle (I think this photo was taken at Marble Arch landing ground, Tripoli).
He was a wireless operator, gunner, bomber with Squadron 103 initially in Fairey Battles, Wellingtons. Fortunately he survived some scrapes over Europe - including his turret being blown out on one mission - and was transferred (no idea why) to 216 and to Cairo. Promoted to Flt Lt he purchased a camera so we have some good photos from that part of the war. He spent most of the rest of the time running supplies - including behind enemy lines for which he got an AFC.
He also met my Nan in Cairo (as a child of Armenian genocide refugees she had no official nationality but he managed to get her British citizenship) and she came back to England after the war. Dad said he never talked about his experiences and died of bladder cancer aged 45. One of my son's has his name.
Dad shared the part of his flight diary that covers the Middle East years with his squadron.
Mum's Dad ran stores as far as I know. Apparently he couldn't march because he had foot problems. He did show me some photos from shortly before he died, but again never talked about his experiences. He married a German that he met in the war.
The only thing I know about my wife's family was that her granddad was a dutch farmer. When the Germans attempted to go through his smallholding he stood in the way and told them to go around ... and they did! (knowing his son I can believe this).
Grandad on my mum's side was a truck driver for Tate & Lyle and signed up to The REME when war broke out. Served as a driver in a recovery vehicle pulling disabled and captured tanks off the front. Lost his whole team to a mortar shell..... He only survived, he said, due to his good hearing as he heard the whistle of the incoming shell and managed to dive behind the truck.
Disliked the French....He said when they returned to Europe on and after D Day that the French public were spitting at them and accused the Brits of leaving the French to the Germans. Also hated Churchill (Said he got thousands of young men killed) but had the up most respect for Monty..... Not sure how true that is.
Grandad on my dad's side ended the war as a Regimental Sergeant Major in The Royal Mounted Artillery..... Served all over and received a DCM in El Alamein. His battery was surrounded by German forces. He spiked all the guns and at night lead his men through the desert (and German lines) back to the retreating British front without losing a man.
He remained in the army until his retirement at 68. He was hospitalised at 74 with complications arising from shrapnel fragments in his body which were untreatable. He said then that the Germans 'Finally got me'
Both were great men who spoke very little of the war and when they did is was mostly regarding the mates they served with and the stories they had about them.
I know little about my paternal grandfather due to a family rift, but he was an engineer below decks in the Merchant Navy on the Atlantic Convoys. Torpedoed twice. I suspect the inference of alcohol and domestic abuse I've heard from my dad may be partly due to those experiences. Only in recent years have their efforts and sacrifice been properly recognised.
None of my grandparents served at all. They cooked and cleaned instead.
But my Maternal Grandmothers oldest brother served in both WWI and II, joined up for a bit of adventure first time round, then joined again when WWII kicked off as a bloke in his mid 40's. Was generally thought to be a moderately jovial and slightly slow chap who had been digging latrines and peeling potatoes for the duration of both wars, as he was never 100% sure on where he'd been and when. And had always been a bit slow.
Turns out he had a massive box of service medals and ribbons that mum got 15 years after he died. All his service records are heavily redacted, but from what we've got (vague locations and timing) he spent a lot his time in Germany and various occupied bits of territory doing slightly (or very) dubious stuff. So we've officially got no idea what he did.
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.
https://www.rafmuseum.org.uk/blog/fall-of-singapore/
https://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/world-war-two/prisoners-of-war-in-ww2/changi-pow-camp/
