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Parents' Wartime Involvement


Gardian

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I've been thinking about this a thread for a while.

Fully appreciate that for some, the idea of discussing / sharing this sort of family history & the circumstances, might be abhorrent. If so, just ignore this - no problem.

Equally, it might be interesting to learn how many of our parents' paths may have sort-of crossed - it wouldn't be a surprise to learn that some did.

I'm thinking about WWII, but earlier or later would be interesting.

Following this, I'll post about my late Father's wartime involvement. Not a hero, never fired a shot in anger, lucky to have come through unscathed.
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Dad was called up in early '41. He asked for the Army - he was given the RAF!

Poor eyesight, so no flying allocation. Trained as a Radio Op. Shipped out to the far East in the Autumn of '41 as one of a 'Mobile Radio Op Unit' - ended up in N Malaya (Alor Star airbase). The outbreak of hostilities with the Japanese was clearly expected and it was no surprise when they landed on the beaches some 200kms to the east, more or less simultaneously with the Pearl Harbour attack.

His unit (after horrendous aircrew losses) ran all the way down the Malayan peninsula to Singapore. Was there for a month or so, and then (v luckily) was detailed to join an outbound ship as radio op to Java. No better there, although Singapore fell within a few weeks.

He was then (again v luckily) put on another ship bound for Ceylon (Sri Lanka). The ship conked out in the middle of the Indian Ocean, but taken in tow by a British frigate. The rest of his War in Colombo and Diego Garcia (an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean).

How do I know all of this? He wrote a daily & detailed diary - it must have been strictly against the rules! However, apart from my family, it's my most precious possession.

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Would you ever think about publishing it Gardian, do you think he would have liked that, or is it too personal?

I find it truly eye opening to read first hand accounts of wartime experiences, or even fictional accounts based on real life. Very sobering indeed. It sets off all kinds of trains of thought.

I can't contribute though because my dad fell between the two wars, too young for the first and too old for the second. They sent him down t'pit. Which considering he was a jazz pianist by profession and not exactly a rough tough physical type, was no doubt a bit of a shock to the system. And the only other male relative I've been told about who was involved in the armed services, was my uncle who joined the RAF, came home to Birmingham on his last leave after finishing his training, took his girlfriend to the pictures and the cinema was bombed, no survivors.
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My Dad volunteered for the RNVR in ?1942, and returned at the end, TG.

I wish he'd kept a diary but he didn't tell us much. He was in the radio reception/signals section on various ships. Mainly Mediterranean.

He was a pianist too BTW.

He was the only man in my fairly big family who played an active part. Some uncles were in excluded professions -  one a farmer, another a shipyard worker etc. One auntie was in the Land Army, another a red cross nurse, another in the Naafi.  Mum worked in the Home Guard office.

I remember a lot about those years, it had a lasting effect on me. No doubt a bigger effect on those who fought.

Has anyone ever been to Bletchley Park? I was there a couple of years ago and it was an emotional experience, as well as being very interesting.

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My Dad was just too young for WWII-although he joined the MN in 1945. My FIL was in the TA before the war and so was called up immediately upon the declaration. I think he was 18. He ended up on a searchlight battery at Scapa Flow-bored to tears he said which is why he forgot the first rule of Army life-Never volunteer for anything. When a notice went up asking if anyone wanted to join a new regiment he said yes. That's how he ended up in the Parachute Regiment. He landed at Pegasus Bridge on the night of 5/6 June 1944-actually at the tiny village of Ranville. He spoke very little about it-until my daughter married an RAF regiment chap. He felt that this was someone who would understand what he was talking about and we found out lots after that. Luckily he was on honeymoon leave when Arnhem took place as his regiment took part.

About 10 years before he dies we took him and my MIL to Normandy for a holiday and visited many of the areas he had fought in-including the bridge-where he got a lovely welcome from Mme. Gonet (I think that's her name) who runs the family cafe there. We visited Ranville where there is a WGC cemetery next to the village church. Inside the churchyard were about 6 British war graves-not in the official cemetery. All PR ,dated 6/6/44. When we asked a local man why they were there he told my FIL- 'They died in our village. They are our sons. We will take care of them'. My FIL never forgot that. People should never say the French don't remember.
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My Dad joined in 1942 and was in the 6th Airborne Pegasus division. Was in France, and Germany and I cannot remember where in between. Then he was sent to Palestine at the end of WW2. Has endless stories, and I got him to tape them, but he wouldn't hold the mike near his mouth and it is hard to hear what he is saying.

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FIL was 6th Airborne Yorkshire I think. Went to the far east after war in Europe was finished. Have you read Montgomery's tribute to the Parachute Regiment-'Every man an emperor'? Very moving. It was read at my FIL funeral.
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My Dad was regular RAF from 1936. Served in Bomber Command for the whole of WW2 as an engine fitter. Never left the UK. He and Mum lived in MQs at RAF Waddington, near Lincoln at the outbreak of war, Mum obviously left the quarter and returned to her parents home for the duration.

She was quite interested to show me their old MQ when she visited me at my MQ when I served at RAF Waddington. Surprisingly the same squadron were stationed there as when my Dad was there. I found his photo in the squadron archives.

I don't know if the base was ever bombed by the Luftwaffe but certainly a number of returning aircraft crashed there.
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My Dad was caught in  the first bombing raid in our town and it killed quite a few, including doctors, in I think, 1940, hurt and in hospital for months.

He was in Dad's Army too, and when he was called up, the doctors were asking about the bombing as they had lost colleagues....... and he was told that due to his injuries need not go into the services, but he said that there was no way on earth he was being a young fit looking civvy during the war...... what would people think, so he joined up.

Met my Mother who was in the ATS working at Portan Down.

My friend's Dad was in the RAF and never flew, my Dad in the army and flew a lot....... such is life.

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Mother was 6 years old at the outbreak of war, her younger brother probably a toddler, they were both evacuated to Leeds, that was quite late in the war I think. She insisted the family stop on Leeds on the way back from camping in Scotland, I reckon in 68 or 69 and we were not going to leave there until she could trace the woman Mary Lyons (possibly Lions) she found her in a geriatric home, I didn't appreciate it then but I learned a lot about my mothers good character then.

 

Father would have been 23 at the outbreak, he enrolled but was kicked out, he could not march because of flat feet something I inherited he was also I believe in a reserved occupation, he worked through the war in a munitions factory, he always had feelings of guilt because he said quite candidly for a working man or woman who was not called up there were no better times finacially than the war years that despite rationing there was nothing that could not be had at a price on the black market or through barter, it sounded like he was a black marketeer but he was never motivated by money, I recall during the post war austerity years that he always would find a way to get what could not be got always being able to call in a favour yet he would give these things away with pleasure rather than be paid for them just like his labour.

 

I am the same in many ways but either he was a better judge of chracter, ie who was not deserved of his help/favours or he didnt take it to heart like I do when people are not reconnaissant and rip the ar5e out of it, in that respect this part of France has been a real dissapointment to me.

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Two very contrasting incidents which might be of interest.

As already said, Dad was at Alor Star airbase at the outbreak of hostilities with Japan. Most of the squadron of Blenheim bombers had been destroyed within a day or two. Sq Ldr Scarf took one of the last operational aircraft for an attack on the beacheads at Khota Bharu. Clearly, it was virtually suicidal but the attack was carried out and the aircraft limped back, though badly shot up. Scarf successfully crash landed the plane and the rest of the crew got out safely, although he was badly injured. Bizarrely, he was tended to by his wife, who was a nurse on the base. Sadly, he died of his wounds and was awarded a posthumous VC.

Dad mentioned the 'incident' in his diary, although he thought that all the crew were OK.

He didn't mention the next event though, probably because it was just too hot a topic! At more or less the same time, a junior British officer attached to the Indian Army and who seems to have been a somewhat disaffected individual, was caught 'red-handed' sending radio messages to the Japanese about recognition codes. He was arrested and sent to Singapore for court martial. He was summarily executed the day before Singapore fell.

You couldn't imagine two more contrasting acts.
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Fascinating stories...

My father was a keen radio "ham" from his school days, so joined the Royal Signals. In his early 20s, he travelled round Britain identifying the best sites for radar-controlled guns and searchlights.

Later, attached to the Secret Intelligence Service, he was sent to Cornwall to fit concealed radios into former French fishing boats that had come over to England at the fall of France. I remember him saying that he had to run the aerials up inside the masts to hide them. These vessels were used to cross to southern Brittany, mingle with the real fleet off Concarneau or somewhere, and pick up agents or information to bring back to England.

Before each mission, one of these naval-grey-painted fishing-boats would chug off to the Scilly Isles, where - at a discreet mooring - they were repainted in French fishing-boat colours, with the correct style of registration number etc, then have iron-filings thrown at them to distress them (as no true fishing-boat in occupied France would look so pristine).

On return to the Scilly Isles from the mission, the agent would be picked up and whisked rapidly off to London, while the boat was repainted in naval grey before returning to its base in the Helford River.

My father was later sent to India, to build a radio station in Calcutta, and subsequently designed radio systems on boats that were collecting agents and information from Burma.

Before he died, he did write up his experiences, which I added to the BBC's "People's War" project. (Links below, if anyone should want to read more detail.)

Cornwall

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/31/a4211731.shtml

Far East

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/59/a4211759.shtml

Meanwhile, my mother drove ambulances during the Birmingham blitz. From her parents' home in Warwickshire, she told me they could see the glow from the bombing of Coventry in 1940.
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Eurotrash ........

Sorry - I didn't reply to your question about whether I'd ever publish my Dad's diary.

Never crossed my mind and I doubt that but a handful of people would be interested. Important to me though.
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My father actually volunteered at the start of the war, he knew conscription would be coming so he decided he would prefer to pick where he went, so he went into R.E.M.E.  He was shipped out to north Africa then on to Egypt as a member of the 8th Army (desert rats) he was a mechenic/driver so didn't have to do the marches across the desert, they then crossed the Med and landed at Sorrento and travelled up through Italy, where he learnt Italian, he saw Vesuvius erupt in the 1940's.

Mum worked for some company possibility miltary in Brentford assembling parts for aircraft.

If you didn't know you can get your parents army records all you need is his/her service number full name some kind of proof who you are, I had to submit his death certificate and I think a copy of my passport. and complete fhe form that you can get from t'internet oh and the payment. It takes ages to arrive,( nearly a year for me) I had to send an e-mail to the records office reminding them that as I had paid for this service I expected a response within a reasonable time. The whole records then came within a couple of weeks. It shows any little troubles your parent may have got into but most of this is in army speak IE D&D for drunk and disorderly etc.

PS has the spell checker dissapeared. forever having to go back retyping my errors.

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Patf wrote : re records - the members on WW2 Talk forum are very helpful and knowledgeable ...

Thanks so much for that site Pat, it looks just what I need. My father would never talk about the war and, stupidly, I did not ask my mum. Sadly both are long gone and now, having discovered quite by chance that her grandfather was mentioned in despatches for bravery above and beyond the call of duty, my daughter wants to know why, how, where and I had no idea where to start to answer her questions.

Sue
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My father joined the Home Guard. One rifle in the platoon assigned to the best shot which was my Dad. This caused open hostility from WW1 veterans so he enrolled in the RAF. Sent to Canada to lean to fly (Tiger Moth - best aircraft he flew). Got frostbite and sent back to UK to be Navigator/Bomb Aimer). Flew in Stirlings from airfields north of London. Went to Germany many times (never stayed). Shot down over Arnham, was rescued by Dutch Resistance and gave them all his equipment (revolver - never issued any bullets!, silk parachute - much prized by the ladies apparently, cigs, rations etc) He was smuggled back to England and promptly court marshalled for not having his revolver! When that was sorted out, he was offered a medal, which he refused saying that the brave ones had died - not all from his plane made it.  That still touches me. He had stories about some of his missions like dropping Mars Bars and gold to the French Resistance as well as millions in counterfeit German money.  The missions he hated was towing gliders, he always said they killed more troops than the Germans ever did.

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Fascinating stories here about family members.

My father was too old to be in the forces in WW2 but he worked with homing pigeons and still had the little carbon copy booklets of the messages sent via his pigeons, which were unfortunately lost when he and my mother moved into a care home.
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That is interesting GG, how old was too old??

I know my father said that anyone in their thirties was considered ancient, and yet a good friend's Dad was in his mid thirties when he joined up, and sadly got killed very soon afterwards.

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