大象传媒

As a kid, me and my friends always used to ask my grandad about gory stories he had encountered during the war, about how many Germans he had killed, about how many planes he had shot down with his tank. People always expect war to be a thing that people do for king and country, to fight for Britain in it's time of need. People expect you to be some sort of rambo,a pumped-up assassin, born to kill and all in the name of England. But my grandad always replied that he hoped he hadn't killed anyone and that he knew that the Germans had family at home an that they too wanted to return to their loved ones. He only fought the war because of his deep and undying love for my grandma and the need to make sure that her life was good. You see, he didn't fight the war for the king, for England, but for love. To protect his way of life. To make sure my grandma and my Mum and uncle would have a perfect life. He did't want to kill anyone. He knew that was wrong. He wasn't a hero in his own eyes, but to me and my adoring family, he was OUR hero. He won several medals for bravery and was a wonderful father and grandfather. A few weeks after he died, we uncovered some letters he had sent to my grandma. These were not just love letters, but hot and steamy letters. Amongst all that misery and death and destuction, the only thing that he really cared about was my grandma and his children. For me, that is ultimate bravery and desire. My grandad.Hero and romeo.

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