As I was not born until 1950 I do not have a personal memory of World War 2. My Father was working in a coal mine and as that was a reserved occupation he could not join up, although he did try. My mother worked in the arsenal in Bridgend.I have heard some stories from their memories and I do have a later personal memory of someone who served in the forces during that time.
I often visited my friend and her father Wilfred H. Woods. He was then in his eighties but sixty years earlier he had served during the war in the Royal Air Force ground crews , driving trucks in convoys. He did occasionally mention his experiences but didn't go into much detail.
One day when I was visiting them, my friend was baby-sitting her grand-daughter (Wilfred's great-grand-daughter) who was not yet three years old, and an incident occured which gave me the inspiration to write a poem about Remembrance Day entitled 'The Eleventh Hour', although in the poem I refer to a grandfather ,not a great-grandfather.
It was in early November and as Remembrance Day is on the Eleventh Wilfred had been wearing a British Legion Poppy, which he gave to the little girl. "Pretty flower" she said. "It's a very special flower" he told her. Turning to me he said "You can't explain to such a little one what that flower means". "You can tell her when she's older." I replied.
Sadly that wasn't to be, as Wilfred passed away shortly afterwards. When his great-grand-daughter is older she will probably learn the meaning of the 'pretty flower', as she called it, but I hope that it will be only in an history lesson and not by seeing our forces at war again.
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