大象传媒

My dad joined the Royal Navy in January 1938. He'd previously been in the Merchant Navy. He was born in Heywood, Lancashire, moved to Middleton soon after and had a very difficult and deprived childhood. His father was an alcoholic and his mother was constantly in hospital. All of which meant he was regularly in and out of the care of the Social Services, but in those days it was more like the workhouse.
On May 2nd 1935, the day after his 14th birthday, my dad was brought before the committee of the care home and was told he would be leaving. That was for certain. However, he had the choice of going to work on a farm in Australia, Canada or South Africa, or he could join the Merchant Navy. As young as he was, my dad realised that if he went to work on a farm, he would have no chance of returning to England, so he chose the Merchant Navy. There was a documentary on TV a few years ago about these children called "Lost Children of The Empire". Lots of them who worked on the farms were treated like dogs and abused terribly. A shameful episode that was allowed to happen by a so-called civilised country.
Dad transferred to the R.N. on 5th Jan. 1938 and underwent his basic training as a Coxswain at HMS Wildfire, Sheerness. He moved to HMS Drake on 26th July 1938 for further training then joined the aircraft carrier HMS Eagle for her commission on 31st August 1938. He stayed on board till 24th July 1939, then transferred to the destroyer HMS Falmouth. These were fantastic times for my dad who absolutely loved it in the Navy. It was a total contrast to the deprivation and poverty he'd been brought up with.
Then came WW2. HMS Falmouth was anchored in Hanoi Harbour, Vietnam when the crew heard the announcement from Neville Chamberlain declaring war on Germany on 3rd September 1939. My dad always said the war interrupted his holidays.
The Falmouth was one of 20 ships despatched to the South Atlantic to deal with the threat posed by the Graff Spee, but didn't take part in the battle and was soon re-deployed.
Having served on one of the largest ships in the Navy, my dad found himself posted to HMS Lynx, a coastal forces base at Dover. He was to undergo traing for MTB's. He was then transferred to Coastal Forces (Ships) in HMS Wasp. During this time my dad took part in the battle known as The Channel Dash in which three German heavy warships tried to move through the Channel to avoid going all the way round the British coast to get back to Germany. The ships were the Scharnhorst, Gneisenau and Prinz Eugen. The ships succeeded in getting through and the British suffered lots of casualties. However, on the way through the Channel, the Gneisenau struck a mine, which slowed her down. When she returned to port, the damage was beyond repair and she sat out the rest of the war in dry dock.
Dad was then transferred to HMS NIle in Alexandria on 14th September 1942. This was a shore base and dockyard. He remained there till 31st Aug. 1945 when he was transferred to HMS Monck in Glasgow. Whilst based here, he met and married my mother in December 1945. Dad was de-mobbed on 27th July 1946.
All that may seem quite unremarkable, and it probably is. But that is only what my dad told me about his war experiences. In fact, he never told me about HMS Falmouth being despatched to the South Atlantic. I found that out for myself.
Dad spoke very little about the war. I know he lost some really good friends, one in particular he was very close to. So I'm sure he was involved in lots more action but he wouldn't talk about it. He was very scornful of Remembrance Sunday and would have nothing to do with it. When I asked him why, he would just shake his head and say "No".
My own perception of it was that he had a form of shell shock that brought on a kind of selective memory loss. But then again, having been through the war, I suppose he had the right to be able to criticise the memorials if he wanted to. And to forget the things that he'd seen that had killed his friends.
Unless we've been there, we don't know how we'd react do we?
To me, my dad, and millions of people from that time, were heroes. They gave up the best years of their lives for the future of Britain and the Commonwealth. So that their children and grandchildren could enjoy the things and the lifestyle we have today.
I for one, am grateful to him and all the other servicemen and women. On August 27th 1992, dad couldn't beat his illness of cancer, and another war hero passed away.
Thanks Dad. At least you did your bit for us. RIP.

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