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This short account of some of my father’s experiences of the second World War are drawn form stories told to me by members of my family, my mother and my father, all of whom have now regrettably past away. Other details I have taken from my father’s papers and war memorabilia still in the family. His name was Warrant Officer, Francis Lambert.

My mother told me my father was amongst the first to be called up due to the fact that he was already serving in the Territorial Army when war was declared. My father was by all accounts an excellent marksman and I still have 2 medals he was awarded for rifle shooting in the Territorial Army. For those who may be interested, on the reverse of one of the medals is inscribed, Altcar 1933 YS3596694 and on the other the inscription reads 4. Border. I understand that he also shot at Bisley coming 3rd or 4th in all England for rifle shooting which I think was during his service with the Territorial Army. He continued to win cups and trophies for his marksmanship during the war years.

My father was shipped overseas at the beginning of the war and I was born on April 13 1940 and did not see my father until the end of the war in 1945. Therefore for the first 5 years of my life I was basically brought up by 3 people, my mother, my godmother and a nanny/maid called Ethel. My father served in the 8th Army REME and his rank as shown on his release certificate, was W/WOI I understand he was in engagements at Dunkirk, Tubruq, Benghazi, El’Alamein and Montecassino. I have a number of war photos of him and his war colleagues taken in the desert and at he Pyramids etc.

I still have some of the menus he kept from the troop ship or ships he travelled on during the war. For example, one such menu is printed First Class Dining Saloon, table number 25, his name, his rank at the time and indicates first sitting. It is marked in blue crayon with the letter W. On the reverse side it gives the menu as follows:
Breakfast
Oatmeal porridge
Kippered herring
Liver and bacon
Sauté potatoes
Wholemeal scones
Preserves Tea Coffee

Dinner
Potage Breton
Fried fillet of Sole in anchovy sauce
Steak and kidney pudding
Baked and boiled potatoes
Cabbage

At the outbreak of war my parents were buying their own home but sold it due to the risk of losing their investment should it be bombed. They never again managed to own their own home. My father told me a number of stories about thing that he experienced during the war some of which were unpleasant i.e. being taken off the beaches at Dunkirk and the unorthodox approaches deployed by the indigenous population in the deserts of Africa when assisting the British army to sweep for mines. Other stories depicted the funnier side of life even in war e.g. he told me about a small Arab boy who wandered into the British camp in the desert. My father calmed the boy by showing him some conjuring tricks one of which involved a disappearing egg. Eventually the boy wandered away from the camp back into the desert again. He returned later with a large following of armed tribesmen including one who turned out to be the boy’s elder brother. My father and the men with him prepared for what looked like a confrontation but to their surprise came to realise that the small boy simply wanted a repeat conjuring performance for the benefit of those with him!

My father told me that whilst in the desert soldiers would sleep out in the open lying on their blankets but frequently woke up the following morning lying on the sand minus the blanket. One night my father and some of the men stayed awake to try and resolve the mystery of the disappearing blankets. To their surprise a number of desert tribesmen crept silently into camp in the middle of the night, got down on all fours next to the heads of sleeping soldiers and blew gently in their ears until they turned over in their sleep, rolling off their blankets into the sand. The tribesmen then rolled up the blankets and took off to whence they came.

The closest my father came to getting killed in action was when a bullet punctured his water bottle, which caused more than a little consternation — the water bottle being full of rum at the time.

I still have my father’s campaign stars, clasps and medals. They include the 1939-45 Star, the Africa Star, the Italy Star, the Defence Medal and the War Medal 1939-45.
My father was also awarded Oak Leaves having been twice mentioned in despatches.

I also have my father’s leather, army map case and his army issue pocket watch, which still works. For those who may be interested, it has a black dial with luminous hands and is printed Swiss made, Rolex A20237. On the back it is inscribed;
A20237
GS.MK.11
(a small arrow)

I do hope what I have been able to recollect and contribute is the sort of material you are looking for. I’m sure there is much I must have forgotten but I myself am now 64 years old and of course this was all a long time ago.

As for my own war memories, they are very few indeed being only 5 years old when the war ended. I spent the war years living in Kendal, which at that time was in the county of Westmoreland. I have 3 abiding memories of that period:
1. Rationing
One thing we got plenty of and since that time I have never been able to eat again, were boiled onions. I am told that on being picked up from school one day towards the end of the war, I was informed someone had a surprise waiting for me at home, to which I replied, ‘It’s not boiled onions is it?’
2. The Blackout
Occasionally my mother and I would visit my grandparents who lived at Deepcar, near Sheffield. I can always remember their blue light bulb at the top of the house.
3. Homecoming
I remember my father coming home at the end of the war. My mother had obviously had a telegram concerning his arrival and ran down the staircase to greet him when the doorbell rang. I shot down the staircase behind her riding on a tea tray, which was a trick I had recently perfected, landing at his feet in the hall. He took me out later and brought me a scooter. I spent the rest of the day scooting up and down the street letting all our neighbours know my Dad had come home.

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