Memoirs of a WWII POW - my Grandad
Discussion
JohnStitch said:
I must admit there was a part of me wondering whether to post if up here, as I thought that there was something quite private about what he wrote and would he have really wanted it posted on an Internet forum for all and sundry. But these things shouldn't be forgotten, and I think these first hand accounts, written by normal people, have a sense of realism that makes you think, wow, what if that happened to me....
Yes, I can see that would have been a struggle. Particularly given his own modesty verging on almost embarrassment at being captured. This is despite the fact that he'd seen action and was most definitely ready to fight at the drop of a hat.He was unquestionably brave and he battled to survive - a real, hard visceral daily battle. And his story deserves to be told - all of here are giving him a pat on the back and acknowledging his extraordinary tale.
He's someone to be immensely proud of.
OP thanks so much for posting. What these guys went through needs to be remembered.
I was fortunate to go on a battlefield tour with work and we took along a soldier from the Royal Artillery who was captured at Calais in May 1940. His name was William Harding and we were all given a copy of his book A Cockney Soldier. His story is very similar to your grandads.
Standing in the Citidal at Calais and hearing Bill describe what it was like to be there fighting in 1940 was an incredible experience. After he was captured, Bill suffered awfully at the hands of the Germans. His dislike of them was only matched by his dislike of the French!
If you can get hold of a copy of Bill's book, it will give you a good idea what life was really like in a POW camp during WWII.
Thanks once again.
I was fortunate to go on a battlefield tour with work and we took along a soldier from the Royal Artillery who was captured at Calais in May 1940. His name was William Harding and we were all given a copy of his book A Cockney Soldier. His story is very similar to your grandads.
Standing in the Citidal at Calais and hearing Bill describe what it was like to be there fighting in 1940 was an incredible experience. After he was captured, Bill suffered awfully at the hands of the Germans. His dislike of them was only matched by his dislike of the French!
If you can get hold of a copy of Bill's book, it will give you a good idea what life was really like in a POW camp during WWII.
Thanks once again.
mike80 said:
Head a quick skim - great read. I'm going to transfer it to my Kindle and read on holiday next week if that's OK.
How do you transfer it to the Kindle, ta.I was reading it on the Jubilee line yesterday so it worked out as a page between 2 stations then use the underground WiFi to get the next page
Great reading. Well done Grandad. They were made of sterner stuff back then.
Thanks OP, I'll read that later.
My Granddad was captured on Dunkirk on 25 or 26 May, we know his brother who was with him got killed on the 25th but we don't know when he was captured after that.
He was in Stallage VIIB and also was on the great march. We have his note pad but very little in it prior to the march. Looks like he traded some of his stuff for German officer badges etc plus we only have one half of his PoW dog-tag.
My Granddad was captured on Dunkirk on 25 or 26 May, we know his brother who was with him got killed on the 25th but we don't know when he was captured after that.
He was in Stallage VIIB and also was on the great march. We have his note pad but very little in it prior to the march. Looks like he traded some of his stuff for German officer badges etc plus we only have one half of his PoW dog-tag.
An absolutely riveting and sobering read. I have a friend who teaches history, so this would be really interesting to him.
I'm also amused at the petrolhead connection too - landing at Dunsfold eh? I imagine there was a fellow ragging an Armstrong-Siddeley round and round with a white scarf covering his face...
I'm also amused at the petrolhead connection too - landing at Dunsfold eh? I imagine there was a fellow ragging an Armstrong-Siddeley round and round with a white scarf covering his face...
My Great Uncle was in the Wehrmacht 
and was captured by the Russians on the Eastern Front in '44/45. He wasn't released until 1947.
He's still around today playing golf and tennis but he never talks about what happened to him.
On a lighter not my old grandad, no longer with us, left Ireland to join the British Army but appeared to spend much of the war in the Glasshouse
and was captured by the Russians on the Eastern Front in '44/45. He wasn't released until 1947.He's still around today playing golf and tennis but he never talks about what happened to him.
On a lighter not my old grandad, no longer with us, left Ireland to join the British Army but appeared to spend much of the war in the Glasshouse
The Crack Fox said:
I'm in tears reading this. Incredible. He manages to portray the utter misery without being self-pitying, the fear without sounding Hollywood, the horror and confusion of it all. The man is a hero. Thanks for sharing it.
By contrast, my great-Grandad was in Burma, got lost in the Jungle, went insane, and spent the rest of his life shouting in the streets about God. There's no glory in war, is there ?
My dads father was in a POW camp in Burma for several years, but that is all he ever told anybody, his wife included. He died before it became 'acceptable' to speak of such things and I never got to know him well enough to broach the subject. By contrast, my great-Grandad was in Burma, got lost in the Jungle, went insane, and spent the rest of his life shouting in the streets about God. There's no glory in war, is there ?
WeirdNeville said:
I don't really see it as a "British" story, more a human one. He was clearly starving for much of the time.
My Grandfather served as a mechanic with the desert rats. He was nearly shot for pulling a gun on an officer in Egypt. He suffered life long mental health problems after the war, and was subject to electro shock therapy and all manner of other experimental treatments. He never spoke about the war.
Yet all the war movies we watched as kids showed it as a glorious thing. Germans/Japs were always baddies, always wrong, and people only ever got shot in the shoulder, never in the guts, and they merely grimaced, they never screamed and sobbed for their wife and mother all night in the movies. My Grandfather served as a mechanic with the desert rats. He was nearly shot for pulling a gun on an officer in Egypt. He suffered life long mental health problems after the war, and was subject to electro shock therapy and all manner of other experimental treatments. He never spoke about the war.
I think a lot of the old soldiers could have lived far better lives after the war if society in general had simply admitted that war IS hell.
Not a tale from my Grandfather, but a friend of my father's, who is still with us and despite being in his 90's he is as bright as a button.
This chap was a navigator in a Lancaster flying out of Tangmere. He was shot down over occupied France. He bailed and I believe was the only survivor from his crew.
Knowing he was in occupied territory, he made himself scare as soon as he landed and was met by the resistance on their way to look for survivors.
I can't imagine how dangerous this was as a burning Lancaster must be difficult to miss, everyone would have seen his chute and I'm sure the Germans would have been out looking too.
Anyway, the French resistance hid him for about two months, then gave him a train ticket to Belgium. He travelled with one other English airman in a car rammed with both Frenchmen and Germans. Neither of the two Englishmen spoke French or German. Had they been spoken to, they would have been caught, enemy officers behind the lines in civilian clothing.
The journey went smoothly and the Englishmen met their contacts in the Belgain resistance and were squirreled away again.
Eventually, this guy was taken on a walk across some fields one night. The resistance lit three lights to make an L and a Lysander landed to take him back to England.
He went on to fly many more missions as a navigator.
Many years later, in 1976, the chap returns to France and Belgium to try to find and thank the people that assisted him. He meets the Mayor, and there is a small article in the local rag. Next day, there is a call to his hotel asking if he and his wife would please visit the local Gendarmerie.
So off they trot, wondering what they've done wrong. The Gendarme that meets them is a chap in his early 40's. He had been a young boy at the time that the Lanc had gone down in flames. As a boy, he too had dashed towards the scene to hunt for souvenirs before the Germans could get there. He had seen the parachute and had found the spot that my friend had hastily departed.
At this point, the Gendarme apparently produced a forrage cap and said "I would like you that 'ave this back" (or words to that effect.) My friend opens it, and sure enough, sewn to the inside was his name.
This chap was a navigator in a Lancaster flying out of Tangmere. He was shot down over occupied France. He bailed and I believe was the only survivor from his crew.
Knowing he was in occupied territory, he made himself scare as soon as he landed and was met by the resistance on their way to look for survivors.
I can't imagine how dangerous this was as a burning Lancaster must be difficult to miss, everyone would have seen his chute and I'm sure the Germans would have been out looking too.
Anyway, the French resistance hid him for about two months, then gave him a train ticket to Belgium. He travelled with one other English airman in a car rammed with both Frenchmen and Germans. Neither of the two Englishmen spoke French or German. Had they been spoken to, they would have been caught, enemy officers behind the lines in civilian clothing.
The journey went smoothly and the Englishmen met their contacts in the Belgain resistance and were squirreled away again.
Eventually, this guy was taken on a walk across some fields one night. The resistance lit three lights to make an L and a Lysander landed to take him back to England.
He went on to fly many more missions as a navigator.
Many years later, in 1976, the chap returns to France and Belgium to try to find and thank the people that assisted him. He meets the Mayor, and there is a small article in the local rag. Next day, there is a call to his hotel asking if he and his wife would please visit the local Gendarmerie.
So off they trot, wondering what they've done wrong. The Gendarme that meets them is a chap in his early 40's. He had been a young boy at the time that the Lanc had gone down in flames. As a boy, he too had dashed towards the scene to hunt for souvenirs before the Germans could get there. He had seen the parachute and had found the spot that my friend had hastily departed.
At this point, the Gendarme apparently produced a forrage cap and said "I would like you that 'ave this back" (or words to that effect.) My friend opens it, and sure enough, sewn to the inside was his name.
King Herald said:
The Crack Fox said:
I'm in tears reading this. Incredible. He manages to portray the utter misery without being self-pitying, the fear without sounding Hollywood, the horror and confusion of it all. The man is a hero. Thanks for sharing it.
By contrast, my great-Grandad was in Burma, got lost in the Jungle, went insane, and spent the rest of his life shouting in the streets about God. There's no glory in war, is there ?
My dads father was in a POW camp in Burma for several years, but that is all he ever told anybody, his wife included. He died before it became 'acceptable' to speak of such things and I never got to know him well enough to broach the subject. By contrast, my great-Grandad was in Burma, got lost in the Jungle, went insane, and spent the rest of his life shouting in the streets about God. There's no glory in war, is there ?
A family friend (no longer with us) was the Chief of Justice for Singapore and spent the war in Changi being looked after by the Japanese. Changi was, unfortunately, also HQ for the Japanese Secret Police who enjoyed torturing the prisoners in some fairly horrific ways.
I'm sure many of us have relatives that we wished we'd gently coaxed to tell us about their experiences. Not for ghoulish reasons, simply that their bravery and suffering wouldn't be forgotten.
mikeveal said:
At this point, the Gendarme apparently produced a forrage cap and said "I would like you that 'ave this back" (or words to that effect.) My friend opens it, and sure enough, sewn to the inside was his name.
Love those kind of stories, there must be so many amazing things happened like thatGassing Station | The Lounge | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff