大象传媒

I'me really sorry that I don't have a lot to tell as my dad was in the war before I was ever thought of and I never heard him talk of it while I was growing up. But a chance meeting one day made me cry and cry. My dad died at the age of 52 from cancer and was the most brilliant man. I truly was heartbroken when he died, but one night about a year after he died I was out at our local club one evening. As I was about to leave, a man approached me and said to me that he knew my dad. I didn't know this man but found out that his name was Corky (short for McCorquodale). He said that he had met my dad on the beaches of normandy and that my dad hadn't had anything to eat or drink for three days, and Corky had given him a loaf of bread and a bottle of water. I cried floods of tears at such a kind gesture to a young lad. My dad, I found out much later, had given a false date of birth so he could join up. Not unusual, but when I think of my own son, I can't bear to think of my dad without so much as a drink of water or a bite of food. Not much to tell, I'm afraid but it's the only thing I have.

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