大象传媒

(A personal memoir.)

THE GRAVE
"This is Him" the unspoken words echoed in my mind as I shivered in trepidation. The hewn inscription seemed to leap at me across the space between my rapidly misting eyes and the waist high memorial a few paces away.

With a sob of long suppressed and unresolved grief, I choked on the words "Hi Dad, It's me, I'm here", I found myself announcing my presence with the respect and homage of a long separated son oblivious to the rivulets of tears dripping from my cheeks.

Time stood still as I became transfixed and completely overwhelmed by the deeply personal nature of that hallowed piece of ground and its significance to me, my mind was consumed in a maelstrom of emotions.

My blurred eyes flicked from the RAF crest below the gently curved top of the stone to the inscription bearing my father's rank, name, date of death and age. Below the central deeply carved cross the words "In loving memory, ever in our thoughts, mother wife and son" spoke their message not more than a few inches above the grassy plot.

Gradually an overwhelming feeling of warmth and empathy came over me; the instinctive natural bond with my father and respect for his memory were being renewed and re-established. The release of my long repressed grief began to sweep away the disappointment and shame that had plagued me for the dozen or so years since my traumatic discovery.

As I regained my composure and wiped the now drying tears from my face, my mind cleared and I looked around me. I was alone in silence except for the chirping of the birds and the rustling of leaves in the trees.

It only seemed like a few moments before, in the early afternoon, I'd entered that tranquil churchyard at Newton upon Ouse. With feelings of trepidation and curiosity I鈥檇 walked reverently between the rows of memorials until I reached the identical shaped RAF Gravestones recording the resting-places of fallen Airmen. Now it was late in the afternoon, in the reverence of that quiet space I鈥檇 been consumed in timeless trance of thoughts and emotion.

Turning away from that hallowed spot I studied the other gravestones for the name ranks and dates on them. Having paid my respects, I returned to my car and set off on the long journey back to London in the fading afternoon sunlight. I carried with me on that journey a silent vow; in the years to come I would discover all that I could about my father's life, the years of his RAF service and the tragedy of his untimely death. With a renewed sense of purpose I would honour my father's memory by trying to find out more about him and adopt my birth name of Skeet and attempt to prove my self worth and independence.

A month or so later I resigned from my job and started a business. I'd been using my spare time and holidays to earn extra money in the fields of carpentry, plumbing and electrical household repairs, and had developed a skill in these fields due to my earlier employment training and the guidance given me by my late grandfather Pop. I had no idea that in the next few months I would discover more about my heritage than I could ever have imagined possible.

BELATED REUNION
I asked the frail dark haired old lady who had just opened the door in the hall of the first floor of large Victorian House, if she was the person I was looking for?

"Yes" she replied quietly, her breathing laboured with the effects of Emphysema. I introduced myself and asked if she minded me coming to see her?
"I'm so pleased to see you. Please come in." was her excited, breathless reply.

She was my paternal grandmother, Mrs Jean Skeet, it was 1966, and I was now 27 years old. The newly formed business I'd started using the name of Skeet was less than six months old.

A few weeks earlier I'd managed to contact my late father's uncle who'd informed me of her address. I spent an hour or so talking with her, hesitating to question her too much about my search for information, but told her of my moving visit to my father's grave earlier that year.

It was obvious that she was delighted to know me and welcomed my company, in stark contrast to what mother had told me. I felt very sad and frustrated that we had been separated for so many years. Unfortunately, she was quite unwell with her chest condition and although she was keen for me to stay longer I was concerned not to tire her. So with a promise to visit again soon I took my leave and set off back to home with the warmth of our meeting and the thrill of discovering my grandmother filling me with satisfaction and an even stronger sense of purpose.

Over the next 4 years I visited my grandmother Jean as often as I could, sometimes with my wife and children, having many discussions with her about my father's family, his life and RAF career. She explained that she had divorced her husband Reginald Maurice Skeet when my father was a young boy, and although Reginald Skeet had passed away in 1961 they had kept in touch during their years of separation.

From various discussions with grandmother about my father鈥檚 life I found out that he had been in Command of Unit in Iraq and had returned to this country when my mother wrote telling him that their marriage was over and that she had fallen in love with another man. After father returned to this country he tried to rescue his marriage but mother had refused to consider reconciliation and told him that she did not want him to contact me in any way. Apparently she had continued to demand money from him whilst living with the man who was later to become my stepfather.

Realising his marriage was finished my father then met and fell in love with a young woman and began to live with her whilst serving with Bomber Command at various locations in the United Kingdom. Grandmother Jean mentioned she had met and approved of her son's new companion and showed me a photograph of her.

My grandmother then told me of two letters my father had left when he died. The letter addressed to her she was permitted to read but the authorities retained it for security reasons as it contained sensitive Wartime information. Apparently it contained details of how troubled my father was about the new policy of "Area Bombing" and had gone absent without leave, and that it involved dropping bombs on civilian targets. It said he could not get the thought of killing innocent women and children out his mind. It also said that he could not reconcile his conscience with this part of his duty and was concerned that if his thoughts and objections became known to the other Officers and men in his command it might affect their morale.

By this time I had heard a little about the controversy surrounding "Area Bombing" and the civilian casualties that were caused by it. I knew from newspaper reports in the 1950's that it had been concealed by the authorities until quite late in the war and I found it very plausible that my father might find it objectionable on humanitarian grounds.

My Grandmother also described how the policeman who attended the scene of her son's death told her he found the Officer with a towel wrapped around his head in the bathroom of his hotel.

She mentioned her distress at my father鈥檚 funeral when my mother insisted on being accompanied by her new boyfriend and the later discovery that mother had destroyed almost all of my father鈥檚 personal papers and possessions including his uniform. This upset me greatly and explained the apparent lack of evidence of my father at home during my childhood.

In addition grandmother Jean informed me that after some legal wrangling with his personal representatives and the RAF Authorities his insurance company had paid out on his life insurance policy, even though he had committed suicide. I was also told my father had owned an expensive motor car and a video camera and had purchased gifts for mother and I whilst he was abroad. Apparently his father Reginald Maurice Skeet who was a successful businessman and manager of a rubber plantation in Malaya had helped him financially throughout his life.

My grandmother also mentioned that her divorced husband Reginald Skeet had offered to pay for my education and that they both wanted to keep in touch with me, but mother had rejected the offer and refused to allow them any contact with me.

Grandmother Jean gave me a few some surviving pictures and other momento's of my father together with his war medals in a small cardboard box. In the box with the medals was a cutting from a York local paper. This contained a journalist's account of the inquest held into my father's death. It included references to a statement by his lady companion about the financial demands being made by his wife and mentioned the two letters given to the coroner at the inquest.

My grandmother's account of my father鈥檚 career gave me great reassurance and comfort and renewed the pride I'd felt as a very young child. The feelings I鈥檇 experienced in that tranquil Yorkshire churchyard were reinforced dramatically by what I'd learned from her.

DIFFICULT TIMES
Sadly, in January 1971 Jean Skeet passed away following a short bout of pneumonia and once again I experienced the pain of grief and feelings of deep personal loss. I was extremely distressed that we had known each other for such a short time but I felt more than privileged to have had the love and warmth of her company for those few years together.

Following my grandmother's death, I challenged mother about the things I'd learnt in the hope of gaining a deeper understanding of the way she had portrayed my father. Although she reluctantly conceded that the policy of "Area Bombing" might have been of concern to my father she would not withdraw her opinion that his irresponsible personality and behaviour with money were the main reasons for his state of mind.

Questioned about the letter of separation she had sent, she claimed my father had been unfaithful to her while he was abroad and that this was the reason she'd formed a relationship with Harry, my stepfather. She refused to accept any responsibility for the break-up of her marriage. This led to anger and resentment between us resulting in bitter arguments and bad feelings; subsequently I communicated very rarely with her.

Over the next year the continuing grief of losing my grandmother and the poor relations with mother together with difficulties in my marriage resulted in me suffering a period of deep depression. This culminated in the failure of my business activities and led to a nervous breakdown. Subsequently I spent some time as a voluntary patient in a Psychiatric Hospital.

During this time I contemplated the possibility of taking my own life, however a feeling of duty to my father鈥檚 memory and my desire to find out more about him deterred me. Fortunately I was helped to come to terms with my circumstances by the counselling and treatment I received at the time.

After some six weeks I left the Hospital and then in an attempt to rebuild my life I found employment with a small engineering company in Hendon. By then I had formalised my change of name by deedpoll and my wife, children and I were known by the surname of Skeet. However it was becoming obvious to me that my marriage was almost at an end and that I would have to build a new life for myself.

NEW BEGINNINGS
In early 1974 I met a young Irish woman who was having difficulties in her own marriage, despite our mutual difficulties we fell very much in love and started to live together. Then later in the year I managed to obtain improved employment as an engineer with an Independent Hospital in North London. I was beginning to renew my self-esteem and improve my financial position. A year later I obtained a divorce and sometime later my new partner obtained her own.

Over the following sixteen years we forged a deep and intimate relationship together. The comfort, inspiration and security we obtained from each other, together with our improving financial position enabled us to take out a mortgage on a house near the Kent coast as a preparation for our retirement. In 1979 I was promoted to the position of Chief Engineer and by then we were living in Hampstead in accommodation provided by my employer.

For most of this time I put any thoughts of making further enquiries into my father鈥檚 RAF history to the back of my mind. Nevertheless I maintained a keen interest in anything to do with the RAF and Fighting Aircraft. Occasionally when a news report or program on the Television mentioned the RAF or the history of the war I would wonder if there might be anything more I could find out about him.

RENEWED ANXIETY
In 1991 my partner鈥檚 career was terminated for medical reasons and shortly afterwards I was made redundant from my position as Chief Engineer. Having no alternative we moved to our new home in Kent, fortunately, with our savings we were able to pay off the outstanding mortgage and avoid the worry and burden that would have placed on us.

However, the insecurity of unemployment began to play on my mind and I began to experience renewed feelings of anxiety and depression. I found my thoughts returning to my father's career and tragic death. Although I had confidence in my grandmother鈥檚 account I was still troubled by some nagging and obsessive doubts. As my anxiety progressed I developed a mild form of agoraphobia making it difficult for me to leave the security of my home for any extended time. This increased my sense of isolation from the world about me but fortunately the support, help and loving understanding of my partner prevented me from sinking into an irrecoverable state.

A few years later I sought the professional help of a counsellor and was advised to try to express my thoughts and emotions by writing them down. I did this initially in the form of a poem entitled 'An Airman's Son', in memory of my father.

In 1998 I felt confident enough to obtain my father's record of service from the RAF. I found the details it contained were somewhat abbreviated and difficult to understand. However, it gave me a further insight into his RAF career. It included details of the Units and Squadrons he'd served with from the time he joined the RAF in 1937 up until the time of his death in 1942, together with the dates of his postings, duties and promotions.

Rather worryingly, it included a notation relating to a Board of Enquiry set up by the RAF to investigate the cause of his death. The notation stated "The Investigating Officer considered that he took his life in consequences of financial difficulties". Once again this raised the spectre of the comments made by my mother. I again began to wonder if the pride I felt might yet be the product of a childish delusion.

A year later I received some items of my mother's possessions, she was then suffering from dementia. In these I found copies of my father's death certificate, his probate declaration and the certificates of my mother's two marriages. To my surprise I found that mother had inherited a considerable sum of money from my father's estate following his death. This seemed to explain how she had been able to afford to send me to a private school for the first years of my education. It also cast considerable doubt on the claims made by mother about his financial irresponsibility and the worrying notation on his service record.

Faced with these new facts I considered the only way could put my confused mind and the nagging doubts to rest would be to make enquiries of any source of official records or information that were accessible. However, for the time being I remained somewhat intimidated by mother's attitude and my damaged confidence.

My mother passed away in the year 2000 and later that year I decided to put aside any worries about what I might discover and further my enquiries into my father鈥檚 service career and tragic death.

Read Part 3 of this story.

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