D-Day and WW2 Remembered

[sadoldgit]

There was a phone in today on LBC where they discussed the fact that people who lived through WW2 rarely, if ever, spoke about their experiences.

My mum was 9 and my dad was 11 when war was declared. My mum spent most of the Blitz in London although did spend a few months as an evacuee in Devon. My dad was in London and eventually joined the Home Guard. Neither of my grandads were involved due to injuries sustained in WW1. Some of my mum’s siblings took part in the action and my dad’s brother fought with the 8th Army in Italy. One of my mum’s sisters (she was one of eleven) was married to a Spitfire pilot who perished in an accident returning from a mission.

With the exception of a few hoary old anecdotes, none of them spoke about the war. My mum had a couple of stories which would wheeled out once a year but my dad didn’t say a word. The same with his brother who saw action. 
There was a gas mask in the hall stand and various bits of military paraphernalia spread around the house in the 50’s; photos, badges, medals, bits of shrapnel etc. The subject of the war just didn’t come up. I asked my old mates from the same era and they said it was exactly the same with them and their families.

It seemed to be a common understanding that us kids didn’t ask questions and the grown ups just didn’t go there.

Was it the same with you guys? The general comment on the phone in was that the generations that lived through the war were so traumatised that they avoided reliving the memories as much as possible.

It had been very touching watching the last of the old boys who took part of the invasion, some who have avoided returning before to now, finally, pay homage to their old friends and colleagues. God knows what goes through their minds when they see that war is still being waged in Europe.

I would love to be able to pass on the memories of their grandparents to my children, but I can’t. They have died with them.

God bless the previous generations who gave their lives for us.

 

 

 

 

[Weston Super Saint]

What is wrong with the other D-day thread that you needed to start a new one?

[sadoldgit]

4 minutes ago, Weston Super Saint said:

What is wrong with the other D-day thread that you needed to start a new one?

Look at the headings, might give you a clue.

[Turkish]

20 minutes ago, Weston Super Saint said:

What is wrong with the other D-day thread that you needed to start a new one?

This one’s about him. There isn’t room for SOGs ego on the other thread. 

[badgerx16]

52 minutes ago, Weston Super Saint said:

What is wrong with the other D-day thread that you needed to start a new one?

SOG and GM on the same thread ? Could the servers take it ?

[badgerx16]

49 minutes ago, sadoldgit said:

Look at the headings, might give you a clue.

So 'commemerative' and 'remembered' mean different things ?

[sadoldgit]

The other thread is called “D-Day Comemorative - why isn’t Southampton’s part being acknowleged?”

My thread has nothing to do with Southampton’s part in D-Day, but if it really bothers you that much perhaps suggest that a mod merges it with one that is about a different issue/subject. 

The reason I started a separate thread is because this one is more generic and not so specific but sorry if that is an issue for you.
 

 

[sadoldgit]

1 hour ago, badgerx16 said:

SOG and GM on the same thread ? Could the servers take it ?

It is the end of times!

[Lighthouse]

At the perilous risk of actually troubling the OP, one of my grandfathers was old enough to have served in the war, he was a tank driver and spent most of the time in Burma. Never said a word about what he'd seen to either my mother or (as far as we know) grandma. He simply came back to the UK, said he didn't believe in God any more and never spoke of it, or went to church, ever again.

As sad as it is seeing the ever dwindling pack of veterans at D-Day, and other such commemorations, part of me also feels relief that such unspeakable memories are rapidly passing away from this world.

[badgerx16]

13 minutes ago, Lighthouse said:

At the perilous risk of actually troubling the OP, one of my grandfathers was old enough to have served in the war, he was a tank driver and spent most of the time in Burma. Never said a word about what he'd seen to either my mother or (as far as we know) grandma. He simply came back to the UK, said he didn't believe in God any more and never spoke of it, or went to church, ever again.

As sad as it is seeing the ever dwindling pack of veterans at D-Day, and other such commemorations, part of me also feels relief that such unspeakable memories are rapidly passing away from this world.

One of my Grandads was a Military Police motorbike rider in Burma, didn't get home until August 1946. The other was a boiler maker at Vospers shipyard during the war, contracted asbestosis from the lagging.

 

As the lyrics of "And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda" go, ( admittedly about WW1 );

"The forgotten heroes of a forgotten war.

And the young people ask 'What are they marching for' ?

And I ask myself the same question.

.........

And year after year their numbers get fewer,

Soon no-one will march there at all."

[Whitey Grandad]

My dad was RAF ground crew in Coastal Command in Scotland. He was an instrument technician on Beaufighters and Mosquitoes servicing the autopilots mainly which he called ‘George’.

My mum’s eldest brother was in the army in jungle in the Far East. He didn’t say anything to me about his time there but my mum said it was very bad. He was shot in the thigh in a canoe on a river and said that had experienced hand to hand fighting in the pitch black night not knowing whether he was fighting the Japanese or his own mates. Back home he would wake up in the night screaming.

My mum’s younger brother was in armoured cars in the RAF regiment guarding airfields.  He hated the Japanese. At the end of the war he visited Belsen. He never had any children and I think that influenced his decision.

My wife’s father was in the Eight Army in North Africa and was there for four years without coming home once. He was at the Battle of Alamein.

My wife’s mother was a switchboard operator at The Admiralty. She would listen in when the King called Mountbatten.

”Hello Dicky”

”Hello Bertie”

We are steadily losing such people and their memories.

[Sheaf Saint]

[Turkish]

My grand father serviced in the war he was blown over a wall by a bomb, fortunately was able to make a full recovery but was discharged on medical grounds. My nan was sent Oxford where my mum was born they were reunited in Southampton later on. Like others have said that generation never really spoke about what they saw or what happened but they were a tough people with resilience and backbone, a quality which is quickly being eroded by every generation of entitled, selfish, spoilt we get further away from them so I for one don’t want that sort of character to die out as it’s a reminder that life isn’t always 25 degrees and sunny outside. Sometimes like is shit and you have deal with the hand you’ve been given and you don’t always get what you want but at least your not dying on a battlefield in your early 20s as cannon fodder for politicians who don’t care you exist 

Edited June 6 by Turkish

[Gloucester Saint]

Both my grandfathers were active in WW2 on different continents - one was a career medic, saved wounded troops, sometimes picked up the pieces, and was always at great risk in theatres such as Dunkirk, El Alamein and Montecasino. Dread to think what he dealt with and saw, and that generation rarely commented on it. I also know that he saw a ship sink which one of his brothers was on, I think in Dunkirk. The other was in Asia, captured by the Japanese and held as a POW on the Burmese railway. Once a champion boxer in the Army, he lost a leg. Was a steward at the Dell in the 1950s and 60s. Gave me his 1976 FA Cup Final mirror. I don’t think he’d appreciate my Honda car ownership!

The other served post-war at the Royal Victoria Military Hospital, a remarkable building, until that itself was decommissioned, as was he, in the very early 1960s. Apparently the fighting was so loud during D-Day that it travelled up Southampton Water and could be heard at the hospital itself.

Wonderful to see the old boys getting celebrated as they should be in Normandy today and really made me think of them both. 

As a sad postscript, one of my grandfathers was burgled in the 1990s and had some cash stolen - people who lived in the 1920s and 30s weren’t always fully trusting of banks. That we could replace - but not his war medals from the different campaigns, also taken. How low can you go? The police eventually found them again during a raid - they’d been buried in a suspect’s garden - and the detectives very kindly paid from their pocket to have them restored and re-polished to their original glory. He was never re-united with them…he passed away the week before they were found.

The RBL organised with us a wonderful military funeral as he was in service for the best part of 30 years. There’d been a bit of media coverage about trying to get his medals back for him, the members of the public and ex-services folks turning out to salute the hearse will stay with me for the rest of my own days. 

The medals now are proudly displayed, as they should be. Love them both and very proud of them. 

Edited June 6 by Gloucester Saint

[Turkish]

Nicely put by Mr Weller