大象传媒

My father died in 1984. On his death bed, he was afraid to die. As the youngest of his three daughters I was born in 1948 and had grown up on stories of dad's war. He was a natural story teller but never wrote anything down.
He was in the 8th Army, Manchester regiment and served in Monte Casino and towards the end of the war was stationed in Austria. As far as I could gather he was a rogue. He was one of the troops involved in transporting white Russians to the Red Army camps and in helping clear last posts of resistence in the Austrian mountains.
Before the War dad had been an ostler, helping look after the railway horses. When the Russians were handed over, many of them were on horse back, these animals were confiscated and dad helped take care of them. In Spittal in Austria, the horses were used for recreation by the troops. He told many funny tales of this. But, the strangest tale of all was of him swimming the Millstat am Zee with a horse.
Years after the war we returned to Austria, we crossed mountain ravines, me driving and dad getting very emotional as he remonisced about being on a Bren carrier driving the COssak troops over the bridges. He said there were woman and children and some of the women threw themselves and their children over the bridge in an effort to escape the gunfire they could hear over the other side of the bridge. He said they prefered to take a chance on reaching the river to the certain death at the hands of the communists.
We arrived at Spittal and found the camp side at the side of the Milstat am Zee.A man came out and told us the site was full. Then a woman came out and looked at my father. "I know you," she said. Dad smiled, " Frau Winkler, it was a long time ago." They both laughed ands she shook her head, "It has never been done since Charlie."
Apparently one day my father, a keen swimmer, was in the habit of swimming the lake several days a week. One day he had accompanied an officer and a young officer came up boasting how he had swam half way across the lake. The senior officer told him that sergeant Charlesworth swam across and back evey morning. Dad was, I gather, a little drunk and boasted he could swim it with a horse.
Naturally it came time to put his money where his mouth was and he tried several horses in the water, one began to swim and that was the one. He and a young Yugoslav prisoner of war found, stole oil to cover the horse and after church parade dad and the horse went into the water and after the quarter mile swim dad came out of the water holding onto the horses tail. That was the only time it was done and by a soldier that Frau Winkler remembered.
We spent three weeks in Austria meeting people dad had known. One of whom was a woman he probably had an affair with!
This all leads to my fathers death. He was in hospital less than two weeks and there was little chance he would come out of hospital. I received a call late at night to say they didn't think dad would last the night.
\MY two sisters and I gathered around his bed and he talked a little about my mother and then he began to cry. He said that God would not let him into heaven because of the women he had killed.
Then he went back almost fifty years and became sergeant Charlesworth. He gave out twenty four names in alphabetical order and then turned to his side and saluted. "No sir, this doesn't go on report." He then ordered the men to take aim and fire.
He had told us previously over the years that during his time in Austria some Italians had handed over three German women who were Gestappo, they were a mother and two daughters, the family of a high ranking Gesttappo officer. Dad had these women shot, without trial but as he rambled we realised that he had been under orders. I would love to know who these women were.
We all told him that God would forgive him and mum would be waiting for him in heaven. He rambled for a while longer and then fell into a coma dying late at night.
There must be many men who still have to face death, some who must be afraid to die. He was one of many who found his memories so painful.
Lorraine Charlesworth.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.