大象传媒

Dad was called up for military service like thousands of other young men at the outbreak of WW 2. On 30th May 1940 he joined the Royal Corps of Signals and became Signalman Pledger 2361724. He was billeted at Hove, Caterham, Prestatyn (Wales) and Colwyn Bay (Wales) during the rest of 1940. Mum and me joined him for a while at Prestatyn, I would have been one year old then. He left the UK in February 1941 and set sail in a troopship for Sierra Leone, he hated it there because of the poverty of the people. From there he went to South Africa where the local population treated them like celebrities, and after a few days there he sailed on for the Suez Canal and arrived there in May 1941. He stayed at Ismalia, then on to Alexandria. He then stayed at El Tahag (I can鈥檛 identify this place on a modern atlas) for acclimatisation. They then went into the desert to Derna. He thinks that he spent Christmas 1941 here. They moved on to Benghazi, they retreated from there to Marsa Matruh. They were running and looking after telephone lines to the batteries (guns). Some of the batteries were only scaffolding poles poking out of mounds covered with camouflage netting. They had fire crackers attached that were set off by pulling a string, hopefully the enemy would think these were guns! The Germans captured Dad on 20th June 1942. He said that they were frequently woken at odd hours of the night to check alertness and preparedness. At first they would all sleep dressed and ready, but as theses false alarms went on they thought they were pointless, so they began to undress partially for bed. When they were called out on the night they were captured many of them turned out just in shirts as they were sleeping. Side arms in many cases were left in tens. He thought it was another false alarm until he heard guns firing and a man a short distance from him fell to the ground dead. He and the group he had mustered with, plus an officer, dived into a trench. The man jumping in before Dad was caught in machine gun fire that shattered his wrist. Dad said there was no other option other than to surrender. They were poorly armed against tanks and well-armed infantry. From Egypt he went to Italy to be held by the Italians. About July to August 1943 at the time of the Allied invasion of Sicily they were asked if any prisoners would be prepared to transfer to Germany. Dad said their situation was so bad because the Italians had so very little themselves, that he couldn't be worse off in Germany and might even get more food. So Dad and many others were moved to Germany. He ended up in a camp at a place that he calls Bleckhammer (?) the nearest big town being Breslau. That is now Wroclaw in Poland. In January 1945 the Allied troops in the camp were divided into two groups, one group stayed to be later taken over by Soviet Troops. Their guns could be heard in the distance. The second group was marched under Guard for an uncertain period in the harsh winter conditions. Dad was in that group. He said that during the march conditions were so cold and rations so short many died of fatigue and illness. Those P.o.W鈥檚 too weak to carry on were shot rather than allow them to fall into the hands of the advancing allies and pass on information. He swapped his last pair of socks for a lump of bread from a passing civilian. They came to Regensburg in Germany, possibly in April 1945. There the USA Army liberated them. They were later flown to Rheims in France. There General Paton insisted that, although everyone was partying celebrating Victory in Europe, they should be flown to England. Dad arrived in Aylesbury and came home to Romford either Saturday 12th or 19th of May when the street was celebrating VE Day with a Street Party. I was coming up for 6 and I was dragged from the party table to meet this man who was supposed to be my Dad, but as far as I was concerned he was a stranger. 'Dad' was a photograph on the mantelpiece that Mum asked you to say goodnight to when you went to bed. Our relationship was never close. I can never remember him picking me up and cuddling me. A couple of years ago he was in a discussion group where he lives in care and the residents were asked to tell their story. Dad told this story and ended up telling how he arrived back in England. A telegram had been sent saying he was back and he would get home as soon as he could. He said that he had no idea what he would find. Would the house we were living in with my grandmother and her family still be standing in Romford? How would he and Mum feel about each other after not having seen each other for so long? For all he knew she may have run off with another man. He said that when he saw her and they hugged and kissed it was just the same as if he had never been away. A member of staff who was helping at the discussion group told me that the staff members were in tears at that point. Dad is 88 now and it is only in recent months he has mentioned some of things that have lay hidden over the years in his own thoughts.

I have some photos of dad's. Mainly shots taken for the folk back home, but there are just a few taken while he was a prisoner including a camp concert with some rather odd looking ladies. I may also have a couple of telegrams as well, possibly of him being reported missing.

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