大象传媒

My father was not supposed to have been called up. He was not designated a healthy "A1", but he was called in 1939 and joined the 8th Army as a gunner. I do not know the actual regiment. I do know that he was on a ship to Durban, South Africa and was in the desert, went to Cairo, Palestine, Italy and finally Germany. He was blown off a gun in Italy and my mother told me her money was stopped and she thought he must be dead. He wasn't, but suffered from varying degrees of deafness all his short life. I have various photographs and artefacts that he brought home, including a German submarine clock which still keeps perfect time, even today. He had photos of the then boy King of Iraq and has a wooden cover copy of the New Testament that he got from Jerusalem with a "Certificate of Pilgrimage" that was signed by Kyriakos dated 10 December 1944 and that was to "bless and save this Pilgrim, and will preserve him from all evil and danger". My mother received telegrams from my father but all the text was cut out! I know from my mother that he only came home on leave a few times in 5 years and in the main was away at war for the entire 5 years. My parents were devoted to each other and my mother remained loyal to my father in his absence. I was a post war baby and I remember my father's enormous "great army coat" hanging in my wooden wardrobe as a small child. It used to frighten me as it seemed as if someone was in the wardrobe. My father never ever told stories about his time away at war. He maintained contact with one or two friends afterwards, but I think in the main he was so relieved to be alive and home that he preferred to leave the whole sordid experience behind him. I remember the ration books and carefully cutting out the coupons for my mother. We were very poor and my mother worked very hard. She had worked through the war at the Ardath cigarette factory near Liverpool Street, London. During the war she often walked from Edmonton, North London to the cigarette factory. Her middle brother was a Petty Officer in the Royal Navy and her youngest brother was also in the army but did go AWOL at one stage because he was so frightened. My father had been unemployed in the 1920s. He had started out being a french polisher, but his health would not stand up to the fumes and he had to give up. The Co-operative Society gave him a job at the Milk Depot in North Circular Road, Palmers Green and he was so grateful for that job that when he returned and they had kept it open for him, he went back to work with them. He remained in service with the CO-OP until he retired in 1974. His pension was 拢11 per month in 1974, but sadly he died, aged 67 years in January 1976 and, because he had not fully undersood the rules about his pension and his rights, his pension died with him. His life long ambition was to be a member of a Jury and 3 months after he died he was called to Jury service. He was a simple man who loved military music and had a large collection of Long Playing records which he used to play very loud and march to in the living room. He loved animals and his dogs meant more to him than any human being. I never felt that close to my Dad during his lifetime. My Mum always seemed to be "in the way", but I remember him every year on Rememberance Day and display his medals and treasure the photos of his 5 years away fighting for this country. My life is so different to my Dad's in every way, but I will never forget my humble beginnings and the hardships we faced in my lifetime nor the hardships that my mother faced in hers. I believe those war years shaped my parents' values and attitudes. Poor as we were, they gave me something that money doesn't buy - love and a stable, secure home. Dear Dad - this story is dedicated to you and your bravery and to you, dear Mum, to the values you instilled in me, your fierce loyalty to my father in his 5 years of absence. God Bless you both.

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