大象传媒

My father in the Middlesex regiment, somehow ended up driving a tank during the battle for Caen. It was hit and what my father called 'brewed up'. He was lucky to scramble out but as he jumped the tank slewed and he was crushed into the mud. Along time later he was dug out by some medics who he could hear debating whether it was worth the effort as he looked about gone. He was taken back to Pembrokshire where a local family took in my mother when she arrived from London, so that she could be near him. She never forgot their kindness. My father was crushed from the waist down and barely alive. My mother was asked for permission to remove his legs but my father made her refuse as he said he would rather die with his legs on! Over the course of a year he made an amazing recovery, getting back on his legs, then walking with sticks and finally without them. They told him it was unlikely that he would ever father children because his pelvis had been broken in so many places. However, nature defied this and I eventually arrived but sadly it never happened again. I was spoiled by my father and never understood why until I was sixteen. I had never seen my father's legs until then. He never wore shorts or went swimming so I didn't really think about it. But when he spilled hot tea over his legs one Sunday all those years later and had to quickly take off his trousers I was staggered by the scars. That's when my mother told me the whole story, my father never spoke of it. He died a few years ago and I don't have any army photos of him. If anyone remembers him I would love to hear from them.

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