大象传媒

Castleford Yorkshire early 1940s.
The very first memory I have of my Dad is of being carried on his shoulders down the stairs from the upstairs bedroom of the house where we lived in Smawthorne Grove Castleford. I recall seeing Dad鈥檚 rifle propped up in the corner of the small landing at the turn of the steps. As we descended the stairs, Dad told me that we were going on holiday. I have no recollection of that holiday but I think it would have been to Dad鈥檚 parents home in Hampshire.
I remember travelling to Hampshire via London at other times and seeing the barrage balloons over London, and also remember travelling back on the train which was full of soldiers. It was standing room only all the way, Mum sat on her case in the corridor and I was lifted on to the parcels shelf in the corridor by one of the soldiers, travelling all the way to Leeds up there.
Mum also recalls watching the Doodlebugs going over plus formations of planes flying overhead whilst staying in Hampshire. Mum also remembers walking in Leeds when she was stopped from going any further down the street as
there was an. un-exploded bomb, no sooner had she be warned about the bomb when the bomb went off.
Another time an un-exploded bomb dropped in Mums鈥� Aunty Sarah鈥檚 back garden, in Castleford, and Gran said to Mum that she should go and see if Aunty Sarah was ok, but Mum said 鈥淣ot blooming likley - it could go off!鈥�
The other memory of Dad is of us both getting off the single decker bus outside of our home. We had been to Pontefract, a town about three miles south of Castleford, where the army barracks was located. Dad had bought me a model aeroplane kit and we were going to build it together. As the bus pulled away, Dad realised that we had left the model kit on the bus, so he grabbed his bicycle and pursued the bus as fast as he could and managed to stop the bus further down the road. The model aeroplane never got completed as Dad was called away and never returned.
Dad was stationed at Pontefract Barracks before the war, he started as a boy soldier, and was a corporal at the time he was at Pontefract. That was when he met and married Mum, she was 22 at the time and 2 years later I was born.
Dad decided to leave the army and started work in the local coal mine but found that he couldn鈥檛 stand it so he returned to the army at his old rank and was stationed at Stamford near York for a while before being transferred to York itself. When the war broke out he was sent back to Pontefract where he taught the first ATS girls as well as the men.
Dad was badly injured in the legs and back by shrapnel in France and at first was listed as missing but was found and sent to Liverpool for recuperation at Alderhay Hospital and was there for 6 months.
As the war developed , Dad was transferred to Lincoln, and sent to India as a sergeant with the Lincolnshire regiment and then on to Burma. When Dad left Pontefract Barracks he was presented with an inscribed box which is one of my prized possesions.
Unfortunately Dad was killed in a battle with the Japanese in Burma during April 1944. He was 33 years old. I believe the whole platoon was wiped out that day. Mum received the dreaded customary telegramme from the war office, and later Dad鈥檚 medals and a letter from the King which I have to this day. Unfortunately a part of Dad鈥檚 blood stained shirt and his name tag went astray during one of our house moves.
I remember the day we received the news of Dad鈥檚 death just as though it was yesterday. I was playing in the school playground with my schoolmates during the morning play break when Mum came to see me. The school was directly across the road from where we lived and Mum regularly popped over to watch us play and I remember she was full of fun and very popular with my friends. Many times friends have said that they wished that they had a Mum like mine. This time Mum wasn鈥檛 laughing at our games, she was crying, tears streaming down her face as she gave me a big hug.
Grandma was there and she was crying too. When I asked Mum what was wrong she said not to worry and she would tell me later.
Of course one of my mates knew what was wrong. Mates know everything-especially 6 year olds. 鈥淲hen grown ups cry it鈥檚 because a baby in the family has died鈥� he told me with all the wisdom in the world. Gordon knew everything鈥�..death, rape, twins. He was wrong about the other two as well!
When the school bell rang for 鈥渉ome time鈥�, I was out of there like a flash to see Mum. She was still crying-as was Gran. I jumped up on Mum鈥檚 lap and listened to what had happened and then I too was in tears. After a while Mum wiped our tears away and said that we must be brave and carry on because that鈥檚 what Dad would want. Mum said that Dad was a hero and that we must never let him down. I did what she said and put on a brave face, and I never let anyone know just how much I was hurting over the years. Every news item at the pictures, or in the papers was secretly scrutinised in the hope that it was about Dad and that he wasn鈥檛 dead after all. Even today if there are any old news segments on television or in the papers-I check. My secret ambition was to visit Burma and Dad鈥檚 grave in the war cemetary there, but I doubt that I will ever get there given the political upheaval there, and I wonder if the cemetary is even there now.

Great news! Dad鈥檚 cemetary in Burma is still there and is well looked after. I found a web-site during a search for information on Dad鈥檚 regiment, and the contact there was extremely helpful in getting me some photographs of the cemetary and even some photographs of Dad鈥檚 head stone.
The cemetary is called Taukkyan War Cemetary and Memorial, and lies north just outside of Rangoon (now known as Yangon ).
The Memorial is extremely impressive, and is flanked with twin rows of fourteen tall round columns, with shrubs and paving stones in between. On the columns are the names of 27000 men who have no known graves.
Inscribed inside the Memorial are the words: 鈥�1939-1945. Here are recorded the names of twenty seven thousand soldiers of many races united in service to the British Crown who gave their lives in Burma and Assam, but to whom the fortune of war denied the customary rites accorded to their comrades in death鈥�
Behind the Memorial columns is the cemetary seperated by a screen of flowering trees.
The cemetary contains the graves of 6000 men, but not all of these are the remains of Far East Prisoners of War. Many graves were located in an area around the then Rangoon Jail where the POWs were held during their captivity,
The Takkyyan War Cemetary was created in 1945 to bury the bodies of casualties, and the remains of these POWs were later transferred there.

Although growing up without Dad was tough, Mum was tremendous in her endeavours to make up for it. She worked all hours on the buses during and after the war. We couldn鈥檛 afford luxuries but I had a secondhand bike when my friends had none, and Mum was one of the first few to have a car.
We took our holidays down at Dad鈥檚 parents in Hampshire. Gran and Grandad Kilburn were such generous and loving people and being there was such a happy and fun time even during the war-what little I remember of the war.
Dad鈥檚 sister lived with Gran and Grandad and she was 鈥攁nd still is 鈥� a wonderful person , so caring and thoughtful, truly an angel on earth. Aunty Ruby was a big influence in my life, next to my Mum, she always led by example and I tried to live up to her standards. She never married, but chose to stay with Gran and Grandad after Dad鈥檚 death and Uncle Jack being institutionalised with shell shock. Uncle Jack never fully recovered but did manage to live a reasonably happy life in the care of Uncle George-his brother. Uncle George was another of my influences, a huge family man and one of the kindest men I have ever met. Always there for anyone in need of help, and never forgot a birthday. He was on a par with my Uncle Len-my Mums鈥檚 brother in Yorkshire. Uncle Len was a fountain of wisdom for me as I grew up.
Uncle Len鈥檚 daughter 鈥攎y cousin- Brenda sent two letters that she had found in an old shoe box. They were probably the last letters Dad sent. I thought all the letters had been lost in one of our house moves, so these were a pleasant surprise.

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