At This Time Of Rememberence Has Anyone Any One In Their Family, Or Story They Wish To Share?

Radio

Radio

Member
Livestock Farmer
Location
Radnorshire
When my uncle would return on leave during National Service his father who had a terrible time at Gallipoli and France would say get that uniform off as he walked through the door. Another local slept in the coal shed instead of his house after returning from the First World War. Many will go to cenotaphs and many can’t face it. Remember hearing on radio 4 a few years ago that after the Falklands more soldiers had committed suicide than died during the war. What some families have had to go through and still are , so we can live in peace.
 
Wilksy

Wilksy

Member
Location
East Riding
The village I grew up in was doubly thankful, never lost a man in either war, I believe one of only 13 villages in England, the post master was at Dunkirk but I didn’t find out till I was an adult, I used to pop in for sweets on my way home from school and he would always tell rubbish jokes, I used to think he was sad old man, little did I know
 
M

Minesapint

Member
Location
Oxon
The farm I grew up on had a German POW (early 1970’s until he retired late 80’s). He had been an apprentice joiner when drafted. Rarely spoke of the war, but if he did it was with a tear running down his cheek. Spent time in Russia, when he was one of 12 of his unit of over 100 to survive a 24hr artillery barrage. Eventually captured in France. He never visited home again, as he could not forgive them for what they did. A hulk of a man, a gentle giant, and a big part of my childhood. RIP Heindrick.
 
T

Treecreeper

Member
Livestock Farmer
melted welly said:
Mums uncle served in far east in ww2. He died when I was quite young, but remember asking what was wrong him as he was a very thin man with a strange voice, he’d been a Japanese POW.
Click to expand...
When I first started work several of the older guys were ww11 veterans, one was very thin and suffered bowel problems, didn't find out till much later that he was a ex Japanese pow war and was prone to drifting off into his own world until prompted by a c'mon Maurice and would jerk back into this world. Another chap Ernie
Was an ex Para who was dropped into Arnhem(a bridge too far)there were also a couple of MTB crew, they all shared one thing in common and that was the only thing about the war they talked about was where they went on leave.
Sadly all been gone several years now.
 
nick...

nick...

Member
Arable Farmer
Location
south norfolk
My great grandad fought in the boer war apparently alongside winston Churchill and I beleive ended up as a Chauffeur for a well to do family in Norwich,the Unthank family I think it was.his daughter in law was one of the girls at coltishall raf who used to move planes about on large maps of Europe.you see them in war films In war rooms.we have some of grandad smith (we used to call him) medals and binoculars from his past.
nick...
 
B

BBC

Member
Location
Gloucestershire
Below is a diary entry about going into Normandy from a cousin of my father’s who was a military nurse attached to an American unit. As is often the case it was only after her death that the diary which covered the whole advance through into Germany and her then going to the Far East was found.

‘Early one special morning I woke to the sound of the dawn chorus. I decided to beat the others to it so took a trip through the glade to the hygenic Elsan. then for a shower in the ablutions hut - the last for nearly four months. Resplendent in my battle dress with the blue and red 21 Army Group flash on its sleeves, I joined the others in the mess tent for breakfast. First, being on US territory, we must sterilize our mess tins in boiling water before holding them out, like Oliver Twist, to be filled. But unlike Oliver's they were filled to overflowing. A large black paw ladled quantities of porridge, prunes and honey into mine – “Better eat up, Lootenant – you’se going to be mighty hungry afore you’se finished” said a deep voice in grinning black face (British Army sisters carried army rank and we sported two pips on our shoulders). Then, weighed down with all our equipment we boarded trucks which took us to the docks. We embarked in an old grey hulk whose seaworthiness I doubted. At some time during the afternoon the coast of Normandy approached. (One of the joys of sea travel is that the land always seems to come towards you to welcome you). For the first time I was absolutely terrified, but we had reached the point of no return now…..

We joined a vast armada of ships of all nations, all shapes and sizes, some lying anchor, some bustling busily about. The sun went down and a voice over a loud hailer enquired of our Captain “Have you Adams or Eves aboard?” A stentorian reply informed everyone including the armies of the Third Reich only a few miles away, that he carried a cargo of Eves. A landing craft appeared to port. The choppy sea prevented her pitching synchronising with our tossing so that when we were told to “jump” we had to pick the right moment to fling ourselves, clad in Mae Wests, into the arms of welcoming sailors. The engines started up and we rushed towards the coast. And the command came “Run for it, girls – you’re going in to Gooseberry Beach”. Then I knew it was all worthwhile – that this was excitement and danger and a challenge beyond all imagination. It was also the beginning of involvement in such a courage, patience, tragedy, torment and laughter that was to transform us all into different people.

‘Our temporary destination was a shell-pocked château where allied soldiers in various states of undress peered sleepily and mischievously at us. All we could do was to sink exhausted to the floor, using those blissful Mae Wests as pillows.

Too excited to sleep I could only marvel that I was there and that it was good for me to be there. As I listened to another dawn chorus I could hardly believe that I was part of this huge vital terrifying enterprise. But this was only the beginning…..

Normandy
“Sore hair Seester” laughed the Pole.
“Schwester: Schmerzen” grumbled the German officer Prisoner of War.
The British Tommy was too ill to say anything but just gazed at the roof of the tent.
“Sister, Sister, am I going to lose my leg? Please Sister, please do something” pleaded the Scottish Padre in terror and anguish.
The Polish private was a cheerful cove with a superficial head wound. Keen to show off his command of English he told me about his sore hair which was a euphemism for “head”. Knowing he was better off than most he didn’t demand attention.
The German had GSW (Gun shot wounds) of shoulder and forearm and lost no opportunity of telling us that he suffered schmerzen (pain). My limited German fortunately precluded my telling him that the thousands of others who were in real agony and far worse schmerzen than he was had uttered no word of complaint. I suppose I was prejudiced but it was difficult to be patient with this man.
The British Tommy had had a hurried operation to remove shrapnel and patch up a large wound which had punctured a lung. He could only groan and plead with his eyes. We kept him under sedation as far as practicable.
To my lasting shame and partly because he did not draw attention to himself I didn’t realise how ill the Scottish Padre was. If you have many patients its difficult to watch everyone – but I should have seen. When I turned back the blankets and smelt what was underneath I dragged an already exhausted and blood-spattered surgeon over to him. “Right Sister, straight to theatre” he ordered. I do not know if they saved his leg but I know that the episode haunts me still.
Surgeons and theatre staff worked round the clock under tilley lamps, amputating, replacing intestines which had spilled out through the dressings and performing miracles of temporary plastic surgery on mutilated faces. Saline and blood drips festooned the wards and everyone was tired – so tired with bearing pain or overworking. But no-one, except the German complained. Canadians, British and Poles all showed the same incredible courage and tenacity.
The hospital area straddled a chemin de fer running Bayeux to the south. Acres of fields had been requisitioned near the wrecked village of St. Loup d’Hors in which a vast collection of marquees and tents appeared apparently overnight. Each ward consisted of four marquees with 25 beds apiece, erected in cross formation with a central area from which we worked and where all equipment was stored. The ubiquitous mud ruled our lives – we waded through it in thick army boots or Wellingtons which were seldom clean or dry. The Royal Engineers with their usual ingenuity produced sacks and matting, some of which were submerged in it and some absorbed it. We were never free of it.
We had no time to get to know our patients – fortunately they were labelled with name, rank and unit and a brief description of treatment given at the Casualty Clearing Station – i.e amputation (all too obvious), field dressing, removal of shrapnel or resection of gut. And fortunately again we had no time to think. Some died on stretchers, most were evacuated to the UK, but a few could be rendered fit for active service. This was almost the worst part – that a young man who had been helped to recover was so terrified that he cried and begged to be spared a return to the slaughter and carnage. But back he went – and again I do not know what happened to him.
Perhaps the luckiest were the hundreds of German boy Prisoners of War captured at the battle of Falaise. All they suffered from was malnutrition and there was no likelihood of them being sent back to the front. They were so bewildered and lost that I would have felt sorry for them if I hadn’t been so prejudiced
 
Red Fred

Red Fred

Member
Location
Hants/Dorset border
I had a contact via the forum a few years back from a young man in Australia- while googling, he found a message I posted once on TFF thread with some family details, and he put 2 and 2 together- he had found a letter my grandad had sent back to the Murrays, the family he worked for in New South Wales in 1914, telling them about his experiences of his time at Gallipoli as an ANZAC:
From Malta
24/7/1915
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Murray,
I received your welcome letters while at Gallipoli about 2 weeks ago. I was pretty sick (dysentery) at the time so have been unable to write until now. Since then I have been sent to a military hospital at Malta. Under the skilled attention & exceeding kindness of the nurses here I have almost recovered & hope to be back at the front again shortly. You can scarcely imagine how delightful it is to be here after 3 months of continuous fighting and being under fire. There seems to be a great calm prevailing, everything here away from shell and rifle fire.

I think the first 6 weeks spent on Gallipoli will be indelibly stamped upon my memory. As you probably know we were lying in Mudros Bay the Isle of Lemnos for over 3 weeks before the landing on that memorable day, the 25th April. I was on the H.T. “CLAN McGILLVARY” and shall never forget the night of the 24th-25th when, precisely at 11:30p.m., the order was given to sail. I was doing signalling duty on the bridge & immediately sent the signal to the flagship “Under Weigh”. It was a beautiful night, typically Mediterranean. I never remember noticing the stars being so bright. The moon was about half full & set about 2 in the morning. We arrived at our destination about 2 o’clock. Shortly afterwards the landing commenced, the 9th Bn. having the honour of being the first. Not a sound was made, men boarded the little business-like destroyers or barges, in which case they were taken in tow by steam pinnaces, and off they started for the shore, with bayonets fixed.

A short time after they left a light was seen to go up from the shore, a few minutes later rifle fire commenced (from the enemy) above which could be heard the steady rat tat of the machine guns. You know now what happened after. Anyway, about an hour afterward, the pinnaces came back with their tows – many of them filled with wounded men. This was the first taste of Turkey and I can assure you I for one felt very queer. It isn’t a very pleasant job taking wounded on board. However I had to take my watch on the bridge from 8a.m. until 12 noon that morning. I had been on duty (with Bert Redpath) about 2 hours when “plump” and a large fountain of water went up about 100 yards ahead of us and we knew the enemy big guns from the forts were trying to get us. A few minutes later another dropped just astern &, having 3-1/2 million rounds of ammunition on board, the skipper decided it would be healthier for us if we moved out a bit further.

A little while later H.M.S. “TRIUMPH” and H.M.S. “MAJESTIC” took up position about 200 yards from us and the cruiser H.M.S.”BACCHANTE” about 400 yards. Well, Mr. Murray, I shall never forget being so close to warships in action again. My word! I never heard such a noise in all my life; they were firing broadsides and it seemed as if they literally shook the world.
By nightfall what a sight our ship presented, wounded lying everywhere, but somehow or other I did not seem to mind now. I must have become quite callous. We worked all night (excepting my watch) doing what we could for the wounded. I’ll never forget our wounded boys. I can honestly say I never heard one groan, just “Have you got a cigarette, mate?”, or “We gave ‘em hell”, and, do you know, when my O.C. said next morning “Get your 300 rounds of ammunition and stand by to get ashore”, the thoughts of our wounded lads pulled me together and I felt I didn’t give a damn for all the Turks on the Peninsula. However we got ashore without anything worse than a few rounds of shrapnel, without losing a man. The next 3 or 4 days 50 of us were kept upon the beach unloading stores & ammunition. During this time the Turks kept up an incessant shrapnel fire upon the beach but, however, the “BACCHANTE” stood in one morning and blew the Turkish guns that had been shelling us to pieces. My word, Mr. Murray, you don’t know what we owe to the “Good old Navy”.

On the following Friday night we had orders to “fall in” to go to the firing line, as an attack was expected that night. You can imagine our feelings as we proceeded up the Gully in the darkness, not knowing in the least where we were going excepting that there was a big chance of having our first dinkum go with the Turks. However we lay behind the trenches all night with the bullets flying over our heads. In the morning we were taken further up the Gully to rejoin our Battalion. On the way up Bert Redpath & I were detailed for duty with the Telephone Section. I have been with that Section ever since. The position we had in this Gully was very bad for it was commanded by two hills occupied by Turkish Snipers and they levied a very heavy toll upon us. Being linesman in the Section, my work necessitated by constant knocking about keeping the lines in repair and now, I look back upon that 6 weeks, I feel that God in His great goodness took special care of me.

We had only been on this job a few days before Bert Redpath was shot through the side. David, you don’t quite know what the feeling is to sit down by a chum & just wait. The same night, just afterwards, another mate – he had come to take Bert’s place in my “dug out” with me, got it between the shoulder blades and just above the heart.
The next day my Sgt. & I were out on a job & the enemy got a machine gun on us – how we escaped is nothing short of marvellous. The Sergeant had a finger shot off and a bullet in the palm of his hand and out at the wrist. I have had men shot all around me, yet I am well. I am indeed thankful.

I went over to see Bill McDonald twice but could not find him, however I shall have another try when I get back. It is very difficult to find anyone here. The 2nd Rfs. of the 13th have lost very heavily and at evening I often sit down & count up the boys of the old Company who will be left behind. I was with the 13th in their last fight at Quinn’s post.

It is very pathetic to see some of the little graveyards. There is one grave I shall always remember – at Quinn’s post – a wooden cross marks the spot made out of packing case, inscribed “In loving memory of twenty nine brave soldiers of the King”. Such is war.

After this 6 weeks continuous fighting, our brigade became so decimated that we were sent over to another Gully to rest & reorganise. Out of our original strength of 5,000 men I do not think we could muster more than 1,800, so you can imagine we had some stirring times.

Still, Mr. Murray, I am glad I came. It has been an experience I shall never forget & I do not think I should have ever forgiven myself had I stayed behind. Our task is not finished yet, for when we have beaten the Turks, we still have the Germans to crush and maybe many of our Australian boys will “lay down their lives” in France or Germany but one thing you can rest assured upon is that they will uphold the high standard that they have set up here. The Turk is by no means to be despised, he is a [a break here where the letter is torn]. I think he is much better than the German [a break here where the letter is torn].
Now I am about to write the children a few lines.

I frequently here from home. They at least are pleased that I came away to fight for the Old Land.

Now goodbye for the present, with best wishes for a bumper crop & good health, both to Mrs. Murray and yourself to say nothing of the children.

Believe me to remain,

E.W. Pennell
 
Still Farming

Still Farming

Member
Mixed Farmer
Location
South Wales UK
My Grandfather's name on lots of local war memorials and Bomber Command Lincoln,
Died 28 yrs old ,left a wife and daughter on a Late night, one of the last Wellingtons( before Lancasters took over) aircraft bombing flight sortie over industrial Germany, shot down and washed up on beach presumed dead.
Buried and Grave at Commonwealth War Graves Commission Graves at Kiel Germany. 😭
 
2

2wheels

Member
Location
aberdeenshire
Red Fred said:
I had a contact via the forum a few years back from a young man in Australia- while googling, he found a message I posted once on TFF thread with some family details, and he put 2 and 2 together- he had found a letter my grandad had sent back to the Murrays, the family he worked for in New South Wales in 1914, telling them about his experiences of his time at Gallipoli as an ANZAC:
From Malta
24/7/1915
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Murray,
I received your welcome letters while at Gallipoli about 2 weeks ago. I was pretty sick (dysentery) at the time so have been unable to write until now. Since then I have been sent to a military hospital at Malta. Under the skilled attention & exceeding kindness of the nurses here I have almost recovered & hope to be back at the front again shortly. You can scarcely imagine how delightful it is to be here after 3 months of continuous fighting and being under fire. There seems to be a great calm prevailing, everything here away from shell and rifle fire.

I think the first 6 weeks spent on Gallipoli will be indelibly stamped upon my memory. As you probably know we were lying in Mudros Bay the Isle of Lemnos for over 3 weeks before the landing on that memorable day, the 25th April. I was on the H.T. “CLAN McGILLVARY” and shall never forget the night of the 24th-25th when, precisely at 11:30p.m., the order was given to sail. I was doing signalling duty on the bridge & immediately sent the signal to the flagship “Under Weigh”. It was a beautiful night, typically Mediterranean. I never remember noticing the stars being so bright. The moon was about half full & set about 2 in the morning. We arrived at our destination about 2 o’clock. Shortly afterwards the landing commenced, the 9th Bn. having the honour of being the first. Not a sound was made, men boarded the little business-like destroyers or barges, in which case they were taken in tow by steam pinnaces, and off they started for the shore, with bayonets fixed.

A short time after they left a light was seen to go up from the shore, a few minutes later rifle fire commenced (from the enemy) above which could be heard the steady rat tat of the machine guns. You know now what happened after. Anyway, about an hour afterward, the pinnaces came back with their tows – many of them filled with wounded men. This was the first taste of Turkey and I can assure you I for one felt very queer. It isn’t a very pleasant job taking wounded on board. However I had to take my watch on the bridge from 8a.m. until 12 noon that morning. I had been on duty (with Bert Redpath) about 2 hours when “plump” and a large fountain of water went up about 100 yards ahead of us and we knew the enemy big guns from the forts were trying to get us. A few minutes later another dropped just astern &, having 3-1/2 million rounds of ammunition on board, the skipper decided it would be healthier for us if we moved out a bit further.

A little while later H.M.S. “TRIUMPH” and H.M.S. “MAJESTIC” took up position about 200 yards from us and the cruiser H.M.S.”BACCHANTE” about 400 yards. Well, Mr. Murray, I shall never forget being so close to warships in action again. My word! I never heard such a noise in all my life; they were firing broadsides and it seemed as if they literally shook the world.
By nightfall what a sight our ship presented, wounded lying everywhere, but somehow or other I did not seem to mind now. I must have become quite callous. We worked all night (excepting my watch) doing what we could for the wounded. I’ll never forget our wounded boys. I can honestly say I never heard one groan, just “Have you got a cigarette, mate?”, or “We gave ‘em hell”, and, do you know, when my O.C. said next morning “Get your 300 rounds of ammunition and stand by to get ashore”, the thoughts of our wounded lads pulled me together and I felt I didn’t give a damn for all the Turks on the Peninsula. However we got ashore without anything worse than a few rounds of shrapnel, without losing a man. The next 3 or 4 days 50 of us were kept upon the beach unloading stores & ammunition. During this time the Turks kept up an incessant shrapnel fire upon the beach but, however, the “BACCHANTE” stood in one morning and blew the Turkish guns that had been shelling us to pieces. My word, Mr. Murray, you don’t know what we owe to the “Good old Navy”.

On the following Friday night we had orders to “fall in” to go to the firing line, as an attack was expected that night. You can imagine our feelings as we proceeded up the Gully in the darkness, not knowing in the least where we were going excepting that there was a big chance of having our first dinkum go with the Turks. However we lay behind the trenches all night with the bullets flying over our heads. In the morning we were taken further up the Gully to rejoin our Battalion. On the way up Bert Redpath & I were detailed for duty with the Telephone Section. I have been with that Section ever since. The position we had in this Gully was very bad for it was commanded by two hills occupied by Turkish Snipers and they levied a very heavy toll upon us. Being linesman in the Section, my work necessitated by constant knocking about keeping the lines in repair and now, I look back upon that 6 weeks, I feel that God in His great goodness took special care of me.

We had only been on this job a few days before Bert Redpath was shot through the side. David, you don’t quite know what the feeling is to sit down by a chum & just wait. The same night, just afterwards, another mate – he had come to take Bert’s place in my “dug out” with me, got it between the shoulder blades and just above the heart.
The next day my Sgt. & I were out on a job & the enemy got a machine gun on us – how we escaped is nothing short of marvellous. The Sergeant had a finger shot off and a bullet in the palm of his hand and out at the wrist. I have had men shot all around me, yet I am well. I am indeed thankful.

I went over to see Bill McDonald twice but could not find him, however I shall have another try when I get back. It is very difficult to find anyone here. The 2nd Rfs. of the 13th have lost very heavily and at evening I often sit down & count up the boys of the old Company who will be left behind. I was with the 13th in their last fight at Quinn’s post.

It is very pathetic to see some of the little graveyards. There is one grave I shall always remember – at Quinn’s post – a wooden cross marks the spot made out of packing case, inscribed “In loving memory of twenty nine brave soldiers of the King”. Such is war.

After this 6 weeks continuous fighting, our brigade became so decimated that we were sent over to another Gully to rest & reorganise. Out of our original strength of 5,000 men I do not think we could muster more than 1,800, so you can imagine we had some stirring times.

Still, Mr. Murray, I am glad I came. It has been an experience I shall never forget & I do not think I should have ever forgiven myself had I stayed behind. Our task is not finished yet, for when we have beaten the Turks, we still have the Germans to crush and maybe many of our Australian boys will “lay down their lives” in France or Germany but one thing you can rest assured upon is that they will uphold the high standard that they have set up here. The Turk is by no means to be despised, he is a [a break here where the letter is torn]. I think he is much better than the German [a break here where the letter is torn].
Now I am about to write the children a few lines.

I frequently here from home. They at least are pleased that I came away to fight for the Old Land.

Now goodbye for the present, with best wishes for a bumper crop & good health, both to Mrs. Murray and yourself to say nothing of the children.

Believe me to remain,

E.W. Pennell
Click to expand...
very much like the book " a fortunate life " by a b facey which i have just finished. a worthy read about a guy growing up in the australian farming community. well worth a read, it is compulsory in australian schools.
 
O

Oliveau

Member
Location
Indre et Loire, France
Wilksy said:
The village I grew up in was doubly thankful, never lost a man in either war, I believe one of only 13 villages in England, the post master was at Dunkirk but I didn’t find out till I was an adult, I used to pop in for sweets on my way home from school and he would always tell rubbish jokes, I used to think he was sad old man, little did I know
Click to expand...
When I was at junior school in the fifties our handicrafts teacher never talked about his wartime. It wasn’t until he died and I read his obituary that I found out that after capture at Dunkirk he spent the rest of the war as a POW and he was the camp forger. I think he could have told some tales had he chosen to.
 
Goffer

Goffer

Member
Mixed Farmer
Location
Yorkshire
My great aunt told us about how her husband my great uncle had been rescued from Dunkirk and when he arrived at Leeds Station he was stood in nothing other than rags and no shoes , he went back to Italy later in the war to come under attack from German fighters in a supply column. There tyre was shot out on the truck, left to change it the column continued leaving them and others to catch up . They came under attack again and again took cover . On surviving he crawled out to find his mate had been killed and he had a hole straight through his helmet that had entered at the top, grazed the back of his skull and buried into the dirt behind . Aunt said he never was the same, understandably
 
M

mixedfmr

Member
Mixed Farmer
Location
yorkshire
Frank finished his last 5 years work with us ( did nt mention him on previos post , so as to take nothing away from Aurthur) told how he was on the burma railway, and the japanese were cruel beyond belief, constantly punishing him and his mates, he saw his comanding officer shot in front of him for standing up for a sick prisoner. He sustained perminent hearing damage there, hardly ever spoke about his ordeal, but DID NOT like the " japs" as he refered to them. Prisoner of war camp in the village held both Germans and Italians, which were lent out for work on farms. The Italians being freindly and cooperative, But the german were diffrent as there were gestapo members amongst them, so the lower ranking soldiers could nt interact with the farmers in a freindly way as they would be reported by the gestapo when they returned home. Uncle john was a bomber rear gunner, he survive dthe war, but i was told he went grey over night.( well probably a bit longer than that , but i was nt there, and that s what i was told)
 

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Expanded and improved Sustainable Farming Incentive offer for farmers published

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Expanded Sustainable Farming Incentive offer from July will give the sector a clear path forward and boost farm business resilience.

From: Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs and The Rt Hon Sir Mark Spencer MP Published21 May 2024

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Full details of the expanded and improved Sustainable Farming Incentive (SFI) offer available to farmers from July have been published by the...
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