大象传媒

My Granddad Syd could be a peppery customer. He passed away in the mid 1970's and up until then he would not suffer fools gladly.

Although not big in stature, he would stand his ground and thought the world of his family. As a child I used to enjoy spending part of my school holiday with Granddad Syd and Gran Ivy (who only passed away in 2000 having nearly reached her century)where they lived in Ashford, Middlesex, not just because I had a wonderful time there, but they used to spoil me rotten everytime we went into the town or even further into Staines.

I guess I must have been around twelve years old when one wet afternoon, Granddad and I were alone, Gran having gone to her Town's Womens Guild meeting. For the first time ever he started to tell me all about his military experience.

In World War One, after obtaining qualifications as a Master Electrician he joined the Royal Flying Corps, not as a flyer because of his eyesight, but in the role of an electrician. After receiving his commission, he ascended through the ranks quite quickly to reach, on leaving the service in the early 1920's, the rank of Squadron Leader. He also told me that he was in the right place at the right time to attempt to rescue the pilot from a burning Sopwith Camel.

Apparently the aircraft spun-in (not unusual for the Sopwith 2f1 Camel)and crashed just outside of the builing in which he was working. The unfortunate pilot had not swithed off the ignition and as a result the machine exploded on impact. Granddad managed to get him out but he succumbed to his injuries; for years after Granddad could not stand the smell of pork cooking.

When World War II came along, Granddad was working for one of he big electrical companies in London. By 1942 however he was seconded back to the Royal Air Force as a civilian. He was responsible for overseeing the expansion of electrical facilities on certain bomber bases for both Bomber Command and the newly arriving U.S. Eighth Army Air Force.

He had a little Hillman car and so much petrol allocated to him and when on a bomber station, he had to perform certain R.A.F. duties and was therefore given a uniform. It dismayed grandfather in later life, and indeed at the time, that the uniform given to him displayed the rank of a Warrant Officer; where and how had he lost his commission? Other than returning to an advanced and more complicated version of the same job he had been doing twenty or so year before nothing had changed - except his position in the R.A.F., its rank structure and the station mess that he was subsequently allowed to use.

I suppose in wartime you do not ask too many questions and he just accepted his lot, but he never found out what he did to deserve it.

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