After going through all that, he left the MN as soon as he could after the war and went back to working down the Pit. On May 29th 1951, he and his Father were killed in the explosion at Easington Colliery along with 81 other men.
Some very touching stories, and i think the Merchant Navy, Bomber COmmand, Chindits have all never had the recognition they desrve. And not least the women during the war keeping industry moving making munitions ,spitfires and tendering the land.
shaun68 My uncle Arthur was from Nottinghamshire as was my Uncle Jess the Liverpool fireman, I have done a little reserach myself but dfound out very little of Uncle Arthurs antics I know he was evacuated home via India with Malaria at the end but told little of what happened, I am immenslt proud that Ord Wingate assisted David Stirling in the formation of the SAS and he was consulted in Jungle warfare an survival techniques which out lads still use 80 years on.
Humourous tale, My mother until she fell off her perch had excellent teeth and put it down to having no sweets war years. My grandad had a small holding and used mums sweets to pay the kids for bringing stale bread etc so he could feed his pigs, He visited Mums school with a wheelbarrow ot collect slops form the kitchen.. Kids shouted slop mans here, ans apparentyl Mum would hide so no onne ever worked out it was her Dad. Life must have been tough Grandma cooking sausages one day and the dog stole them, Grandma did no more than chase said dog down the garden a quick wrestle later returned with sausages gave them a quick wash under the tap and cooked them for dinner. She occasionally got a card from the war office every 12 months or so saying "yourson is alive and well" must have sent her daft not knowing whether her lads were alive or not.
We really are lucky
Not forgetting the Polish fighter pilots who came over and fought better/shot down more per head at 50 yard distance than our lads could do,then the british cast them to the wind after ww2 with out any thanks or a victory day march past,the heads of gov should hold there heads down in shame for that.
Not in many cases Trev.
About 30 years ago we were door to door collecting for a local charity when we came across a “for sale” sign on a Volkswagen camper on a driveway.
We had been renovating our barn in France and touring in a Toyota van and the thought of a purpose built camper was tempting.
The camper had belonged to a Polish gent who had been a ww2 pilot and stayed on afterwards, his daughter was selling it after her dad had died.
The St Christopher badge that was stuck in the facia has been transferred to all our vans ever since.
Regarding my own family and its foray into continental climes.
I have mentioned before that grandad had his 16th birthday on the western front in 1914 and went through until 1917 when he was badly injured.
My mother’s brother, uncle Len was captured in Singapore aged 15 after his ship “The Empress of India was sunk.
He spent the duration in Changi prison and on jungle work parties.
The Manchester evening news published his story many years ago.
My own father was killed three months before I was born while preparing for D day, hence the reason that I was raised by Grandmother until I was 10.
As a matter of interest there were three of us at junior school who had lost a dad during the war, me and two little girls and I expect that, that was not that unusual nationwide.
Hi dezi,my grandfathers best mate berty a builder from Dunbar gave him his st christopher before going on a air raid on lanks,he said i wont need it as will not be coming back from this one,well he did not,badly shot up out of fuel they ditched 5 miles short of dover ,all drowned,we looked up his name in Edinburgh castle.
He gave grandad some pictures of themselves standing beside his vincent black shadow m/bike,about 10/15 years back a artical printed in classic motor bikes told of his story and that the frame of the bike turned up in Germany but no engine or cycle parts and did anyone know of the story behind the bike,i did it back fired through the carb and set fire to the petrol soaked saddle sponge and up she went,i ment to return the story but lost the mag or it was binned,pity,i still have the st christopher in my house to this day.
Only dirty people wash
I was in the Air Training Corps and we used to get flying experience in Chipmunks at RAF Ouston in Northumberland. At the time, my older Brother was Station Engineer there. He hatched a plot with one of the Pilots to frighten the life out of me (I was 14 at the time) by doing aerobatics. We took off, cruised around for a bit and gained a lot of height. Then this ex WW2 Polish Pilot did 9 consecutive Loops with a different manouvre after each one, culminating with a 'falling leaf'. When we landed, my Brother jumped on to the wing, hoping to see me either covered in vomit or clutching a full sick bag. I wasn't, but was only a smidge away from throwing up. The moral of the story is ... never trust a Polish Pilot.
My level of sarcasim depends on your level of stupidity
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