Instead of Hijacking Urban Sports' Thread
Discussion
OK this is for anyone who is interested in what I was talking about on the "Anybody know anyone who has killed another person" thread.
Ok I'm at work so can't just go into a full blown thread but will do it in bits.
I'll give you some background first.
I want it to be known that I am very proud of my Grandad for his services to this country during the war and what he done after it.
here is some background into his life.
More background about his war career. He joined at 18 in the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers and went to war almost straight away after a few weeks of training. He fought all over Europe and north Africa and boy did he have tails to tell. He later became part of the Long Range Desert Group, a special forces group set up to transport the SAS into and out of trouble. He was also a sniper hunter, quite possibly the most dangerous job there is. He left the army and finished his stint in the war in 1947, 2 years after the war had "ended".
His funniest quote was "if you are ever going to have a war, the desert is the best place for it, its what it was designed for because you can't damage anything".
As mentioned on both threads, he came out alive from a one on one fight with a German. The German wasn't just a simple foot soldier either, not SS either, equivalent of a Royal Marine type these days.
I'm not sure of the situation exactly as I was only young when he told me, but it was some sort of raid on a small town held by the Germans. He came across this bloke out of the blue and they were that close guns were useless. He fought with him for what he said seemed a life time. I can quite imagine it, fighting someone who is trying to kill you and you're trying to kill them and you both know what the outcome will be, must be quite a shock to the system.
Obviously being in the LRDG he was trained in unarmed combat so knew what he was doing, but, he said this German also did. Out of all the injuries he sustained he said what this fella done was the worst pain he had ever felt. He kick/stamped on his inner knee, trying to snap it. He left with a stab wound to the left forearm and one up in the Life VS Death game.
More to be posted later, but any questions fire away.
Ok I'm at work so can't just go into a full blown thread but will do it in bits.
I'll give you some background first.
I want it to be known that I am very proud of my Grandad for his services to this country during the war and what he done after it.
here is some background into his life.
More background about his war career. He joined at 18 in the Royal Northumberland Fusiliers and went to war almost straight away after a few weeks of training. He fought all over Europe and north Africa and boy did he have tails to tell. He later became part of the Long Range Desert Group, a special forces group set up to transport the SAS into and out of trouble. He was also a sniper hunter, quite possibly the most dangerous job there is. He left the army and finished his stint in the war in 1947, 2 years after the war had "ended".
His funniest quote was "if you are ever going to have a war, the desert is the best place for it, its what it was designed for because you can't damage anything".
As mentioned on both threads, he came out alive from a one on one fight with a German. The German wasn't just a simple foot soldier either, not SS either, equivalent of a Royal Marine type these days.
I'm not sure of the situation exactly as I was only young when he told me, but it was some sort of raid on a small town held by the Germans. He came across this bloke out of the blue and they were that close guns were useless. He fought with him for what he said seemed a life time. I can quite imagine it, fighting someone who is trying to kill you and you're trying to kill them and you both know what the outcome will be, must be quite a shock to the system.
Obviously being in the LRDG he was trained in unarmed combat so knew what he was doing, but, he said this German also did. Out of all the injuries he sustained he said what this fella done was the worst pain he had ever felt. He kick/stamped on his inner knee, trying to snap it. He left with a stab wound to the left forearm and one up in the Life VS Death game.
More to be posted later, but any questions fire away.
Edited by WorAl on Thursday 11th February 12:05
TEKNOPUG said:
The "Desert Rats" was the nickname for the whole 7th British Armoured Division.
Perhaps you mean the "Long Range Desert Group", or the "Libyan Desert Taxi Service" as they were referred to by the SAS?
Yes, it was the long range desert group, will edit, but it was Desert Rats he was part of, 8th Recce. when he first joined (I think when he first joined)Perhaps you mean the "Long Range Desert Group", or the "Libyan Desert Taxi Service" as they were referred to by the SAS?
ETA know that for sure as its on his badges in his medal cabinet.
Edited by WorAl on Thursday 11th February 12:07
Elskeggso said:
Is it odd that I find this kind of thing absolutely fascinating? I always give the elderly the benefit of the doubt, you never know what they had to do earlier in their life.
Not at all, its the only subject that can keep me interested for literally hours. If you knew my attention span you'd know why that is amazing.WorAl said:
Elskeggso said:
Is it odd that I find this kind of thing absolutely fascinating? I always give the elderly the benefit of the doubt, you never know what they had to do earlier in their life.
Not at all, its the only subject that can keep me interested for literally hours. If you knew my attention span you'd know why that is amazing.Ok here is another little story or two.
The group/platoon/squad whatever it was he was in charge of, captured a Hitler Youth to gain some information from him. Unfortunately for the youth they had to leave and obviously couldn't take him with them........but, they couldn't leave him either or he'd give away what they were planning. Grandad, being the unfortunate one in charge, was responsible for his dispatch. He was 14 years old. We still have his Youth Knife at home.
He cried about that one just weeks before he died, think he regretted it all his life. We had to comfort him about it and tell him he was only doing his job.
In north Africa, near Tobruck I think, he was leading a convoy of trucks, tanks, soldier etc. they came to a village and needed to be out the far side of it so they ploughed on through. A man with a cart, full of oranges walked out in front of his truck, he couldn't stop as people used to do this as an ambush for troops, so they went straight over the top of him. All that was left was a small orange stain on the floor after they had all passed over.
The group/platoon/squad whatever it was he was in charge of, captured a Hitler Youth to gain some information from him. Unfortunately for the youth they had to leave and obviously couldn't take him with them........but, they couldn't leave him either or he'd give away what they were planning. Grandad, being the unfortunate one in charge, was responsible for his dispatch. He was 14 years old. We still have his Youth Knife at home.
He cried about that one just weeks before he died, think he regretted it all his life. We had to comfort him about it and tell him he was only doing his job.
In north Africa, near Tobruck I think, he was leading a convoy of trucks, tanks, soldier etc. they came to a village and needed to be out the far side of it so they ploughed on through. A man with a cart, full of oranges walked out in front of his truck, he couldn't stop as people used to do this as an ambush for troops, so they went straight over the top of him. All that was left was a small orange stain on the floor after they had all passed over.
I always wish I could find out what my partners grandpa did in the war.
He joined up aged 15-16 under a false name and birth certificate and was posted away somewhere. He came back with a row of medals and was found out about being under a false name.
We don't know what happened next though. He either rejoined or was drafted under his real name but the records we CAN trace start with him in gaol. He then distinguished himself by doing everything within his power to NOT go to war, drinking, fighting, stealing and faking injuries. His records show several times he rubbed soap in his eyes to fake conjunctivitis (sp?!)
We know he was decorated the first time (beyond campaign medals) around but we don't know what for or what happened to his medals.
He flat out refused to talk about the war and in later life became abusive to his wife and kids (partners dad and nan) and was alcoholic. He ran away when FIL was young but came back a clean man.
At the end of his life when it became obvious he did not have a great deal of time left he said he absolutely does not want anything military style at his funeral.
On his death bed drifting in and out of consciousness he was in a very very dark place, calling for help, crying, shouting names.....giving orders to head off the Japs and shouting for the medic.
What did he do the first time he was posted away?!
He joined up aged 15-16 under a false name and birth certificate and was posted away somewhere. He came back with a row of medals and was found out about being under a false name.
We don't know what happened next though. He either rejoined or was drafted under his real name but the records we CAN trace start with him in gaol. He then distinguished himself by doing everything within his power to NOT go to war, drinking, fighting, stealing and faking injuries. His records show several times he rubbed soap in his eyes to fake conjunctivitis (sp?!)
We know he was decorated the first time (beyond campaign medals) around but we don't know what for or what happened to his medals.
He flat out refused to talk about the war and in later life became abusive to his wife and kids (partners dad and nan) and was alcoholic. He ran away when FIL was young but came back a clean man.
At the end of his life when it became obvious he did not have a great deal of time left he said he absolutely does not want anything military style at his funeral.
On his death bed drifting in and out of consciousness he was in a very very dark place, calling for help, crying, shouting names.....giving orders to head off the Japs and shouting for the medic.
What did he do the first time he was posted away?!
WorAl said:
Grandad, being the unfortunate one in charge, was responsible for his dispatch. He was 14 years old.
Christ, that's grim, not surprised it haunted him - what an awful situation to be put in. I guess executing a civilian child would be considered a war crime under modern rules of engagement.otolith said:
WorAl said:
Grandad, being the unfortunate one in charge, was responsible for his dispatch. He was 14 years old.
Christ, that's grim, not surprised it haunted him - what an awful situation to be put in. I guess executing a civilian child would be considered a war crime under modern rules of engagement.Since I'm on my lunch, I'll try to get a few more typed out.
Mortar training. "what is the first thing you do when under Mortar attack?" His mentor asked.
What do you think it is?
Well, you're wrong. You s
t yourself, literally. Then you run as fast as you can in any direction you can. Thats what he was told, you know what, his mentor was right.
He came under heavy mortar fire in a forest in France. He then proceeded to st himself, just as he was told. Dropped his Rucksack, gun, ammo belt, canteen and the rest and then ran. He ran as fast as he could, then a shell went off in front of him, so he turned and ran as fast as he could in that direction. Guess what? another shell, turn and run, shell, turn and run.
He eventually found cover under a huge Beach Tree.........which was then shelled and evaporated in to small pieces, so off he went again, shell, turn, run etc etc. this went on for over half an hour. When the mortars stopped, there were people dead, limbs missing, screaming, shell shocked people wandering around like something from One flew over the Cookoo's nest, blood, guts, limbs scattered around and splattered up the trees.
Fortunately he was ok and once he regained his senses, he realised that after running as fast as he could for half an hour he was no more than 100 yards from where he first st himself and left his stuff.
He told me that by the time they reached the Desert the British troops were like Savages, would steal anything not nailed down and didn't have much of a value for life. When they first came across the Americans in the Desert apparently the 'Mercins they thought they were ill mannered, poorly trained, ill disciplined soldier. Were it was more a case of they couldn't give a st about anything anymore so dress code was non-existent.
Like I said they would steal anything not nailed down. being starving is one thing that happened to them all in the Desert and i think he went down to 7.1/2 stone there. One afternoon, him and a friend crept into the officers tent and stole most of the food that had been prepared. When the officers found out they were slightly miffed to say the least.
The whole platoon lined up and inspected |||||||||dd||||||||| <- the line up with my grandad and friend in the middle, as you can expect, everyone skin and bones and those two with pot bellies full of food, they weren't exactly hard to spot. They got a good old bking for that one as they blamed it on the officers dog to start with 
After the end of the war and there are two of them guarding the gates to a small base near a wooded area. As they march past someone steps out of the undergrowth and puts a gun in my grandads back. He knew what he was doing as, as he put the gun in he turned it into his jacket, twisting th cloth around the barrel so if he tried to pull away it would automatically pull the trigger.
This young chap was an Italian Soldier who had gone mad during the war and hadn't realised it was over. After plenty of pleading with the man, grandads friend eventually got him to relax and the gun loosened in his top. Grandad turned and punched him as hard as he could in the face, he died before hitting the floor. "well Jim, you've killed him" his mate said. "Well it was me or him" He said that he had never hit anyone so hard in his life and he was a boxer in the army, he nearly broke his hand with a duster on.
Mortar training. "what is the first thing you do when under Mortar attack?" His mentor asked.
What do you think it is?
Well, you're wrong. You s
t yourself, literally. Then you run as fast as you can in any direction you can. Thats what he was told, you know what, his mentor was right.He came under heavy mortar fire in a forest in France. He then proceeded to s
t himself, just as he was told. Dropped his Rucksack, gun, ammo belt, canteen and the rest and then ran. He ran as fast as he could, then a shell went off in front of him, so he turned and ran as fast as he could in that direction. Guess what? another shell, turn and run, shell, turn and run. He eventually found cover under a huge Beach Tree.........which was then shelled and evaporated in to small pieces, so off he went again, shell, turn, run etc etc. this went on for over half an hour. When the mortars stopped, there were people dead, limbs missing, screaming, shell shocked people wandering around like something from One flew over the Cookoo's nest, blood, guts, limbs scattered around and splattered up the trees.
Fortunately he was ok and once he regained his senses, he realised that after running as fast as he could for half an hour he was no more than 100 yards from where he first s
t himself and left his stuff.He told me that by the time they reached the Desert the British troops were like Savages, would steal anything not nailed down and didn't have much of a value for life. When they first came across the Americans in the Desert apparently the 'Mercins they thought they were ill mannered, poorly trained, ill disciplined soldier. Were it was more a case of they couldn't give a s
t about anything anymore so dress code was non-existent.Like I said they would steal anything not nailed down. being starving is one thing that happened to them all in the Desert and i think he went down to 7.1/2 stone there. One afternoon, him and a friend crept into the officers tent and stole most of the food that had been prepared. When the officers found out they were slightly miffed to say the least.
The whole platoon lined up and inspected |||||||||dd||||||||| <- the line up with my grandad and friend in the middle, as you can expect, everyone skin and bones and those two with pot bellies full of food, they weren't exactly hard to spot. They got a good old b
king for that one as they blamed it on the officers dog to start with After the end of the war and there are two of them guarding the gates to a small base near a wooded area. As they march past someone steps out of the undergrowth and puts a gun in my grandads back. He knew what he was doing as, as he put the gun in he turned it into his jacket, twisting th cloth around the barrel so if he tried to pull away it would automatically pull the trigger.
This young chap was an Italian Soldier who had gone mad during the war and hadn't realised it was over. After plenty of pleading with the man, grandads friend eventually got him to relax and the gun loosened in his top. Grandad turned and punched him as hard as he could in the face, he died before hitting the floor. "well Jim, you've killed him" his mate said. "Well it was me or him" He said that he had never hit anyone so hard in his life and he was a boxer in the army, he nearly broke his hand with a duster on.
Edited by WorAl on Thursday 11th February 14:11
otolith said:
WorAl said:
Grandad, being the unfortunate one in charge, was responsible for his dispatch. He was 14 years old.
Christ, that's grim, not surprised it haunted him - what an awful situation to be put in. I guess executing a civilian child would be considered a war crime under modern rules of engagement.My Great Grandad, his dad, went through the first world war as a piper, he lead the troops over the top with a set of Northumberland pipes, not a gun. He was dismissed after being shot 7 times.
When my Grandad got out the army and came home, he went over a few things with his dad and found out that they had actually stayed in the same building (a church I think) one night when in Ypres. They even described the town exactly the same and what the shops were etc. I think thats a strange one.
Upon coming across a small town, suspiciously quiet, his platoon was told to stop half a mile outside while his superior told them: "Once we're at the edge of the village, run as fast as you can to the other side and get out as soon as possible"
They hit the town and then all of them ran together, they got out the far side and then settled down to catch their breath, moments later the town was shelled and completely destroyed, there was nothing left. His superior had been in a similar situation previously and expected a surprise attack. He saved hundreds of men from being killed.
On heading back to Dunkirk, him and 3 others were told to guard the road by his superior who they didn't like (who later died in an "accident" (not grandad)). They were told to settle down and if any Germans tanks are spotted to take the tracks out with the Anti-tank Rifles.
He described them as guns which tried to kill you. The gun is shaped so that you lie between two shoulder pads and the gun lies out in front of you. The Barrel is about 5 foot long and it fired some ridiculously large shell, don't remember the size. The gun when fired, would pick you up and bounce you off the floor and generally miss its target.
After a while and a bit chat with each other and a bit of logical thought, they decided that if there were to be any German Tanks coming up the road, they will more than likely be followed by several hundred Germans. fk that. The guns were picked up, put over the shoulder and they left to catch up with the rest of the group, sharpish.
On his first ever encounter with the Germans.
Picture this, British troops, in a ditch, firing across a field at some Germans in the woods. Obviously being young, naive, stupid, and with hardly any training and no experience, the young don't know how to react, sit, lie when they are getting fired upon.
Once the British stopped firing, they sat up to see what happened. ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE, the woods erupted with gun fire and he said the bullets sound like little flies going over your head, you soon grow up and learn when you are getting shot at apparently.
On a similar note, an 18" shell sounds like a freight train going over your head. So he told me.
When my Grandad got out the army and came home, he went over a few things with his dad and found out that they had actually stayed in the same building (a church I think) one night when in Ypres. They even described the town exactly the same and what the shops were etc. I think thats a strange one.
Upon coming across a small town, suspiciously quiet, his platoon was told to stop half a mile outside while his superior told them: "Once we're at the edge of the village, run as fast as you can to the other side and get out as soon as possible"
They hit the town and then all of them ran together, they got out the far side and then settled down to catch their breath, moments later the town was shelled and completely destroyed, there was nothing left. His superior had been in a similar situation previously and expected a surprise attack. He saved hundreds of men from being killed.
On heading back to Dunkirk, him and 3 others were told to guard the road by his superior who they didn't like (who later died in an "accident" (not grandad)). They were told to settle down and if any Germans tanks are spotted to take the tracks out with the Anti-tank Rifles.
He described them as guns which tried to kill you. The gun is shaped so that you lie between two shoulder pads and the gun lies out in front of you. The Barrel is about 5 foot long and it fired some ridiculously large shell, don't remember the size. The gun when fired, would pick you up and bounce you off the floor and generally miss its target.
After a while and a bit chat with each other and a bit of logical thought, they decided that if there were to be any German Tanks coming up the road, they will more than likely be followed by several hundred Germans. f
k that. The guns were picked up, put over the shoulder and they left to catch up with the rest of the group, sharpish.On his first ever encounter with the Germans.
Picture this, British troops, in a ditch, firing across a field at some Germans in the woods. Obviously being young, naive, stupid, and with hardly any training and no experience, the young don't know how to react, sit, lie when they are getting fired upon.
Once the British stopped firing, they sat up to see what happened. ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE, the woods erupted with gun fire and he said the bullets sound like little flies going over your head, you soon grow up and learn when you are getting shot at apparently.
On a similar note, an 18" shell sounds like a freight train going over your head. So he told me.
Edited by WorAl on Thursday 11th February 14:43
As mentioned in the other thread, he was on a raid where he was shot 3 times.
It was a raid on an ammo dump, I think it was in the desert. The mission was to destroy all the ammunition and anyone inside. 140 men went into battle on trucks and jeeps. They fought and fought hard, eventually destroying the dump, which "lit up the sky like it was daylight".
He was shot toward the end of the battle and crawled in between 2 railway carriages. He put his right hand on the buffer to pull himself up and the buffers nudged together crushing his hand and breaking all the major bones across the back. Once up and stood between the carriages a German soldier walked past and spotted him, turned and pointed his gun, but, seeing he was injured he froze and didn't know what to do, he was just young and inexperienced. That was his error, grandads friend shoved him out the way and opened fire with a machine gun on the German, blowing his head straight off and peppering his body with about 20 bullets. He named my Dad after the man who saved him there.
He got a lift back to the field hospital in an American Jeep. He said they were lunatics but really good drivers and just went everywhere in a straight line, through hedges, streams, fields, garden walls you name it.
At Dunkirk he was on the last 20 boats to sail. Got back to the UK and was posted straight back to the front. Don't really know much more about that.
In Cairo, his whole squad descended upon a pub where there was another squad already drinking. Much drinking and fighting ensued. According to him 500 people all fighting each other whether they are friends or not is quite a sight.
A bouncer type in the pub tried to stop some of them fighting, he was a giant of a man, over 7 foot and built like a brick sthouse. One of the smallest men in the place climbed on the bar, grabbed a magnum of champaign and brought it down on this guys head. It split in half like a coconut.
On guard duty again, in the desert, he spotted some of the men listening to the radio, he couldn't hear it but he could see the red light for the on/off. He marched over and told them to turn it off as it was highly visible. They point blank refused to believe that anyone could see the light, so wouldn't turn it off.
He said that if he could see it from that mound over there, pointing to a mound about 300 yards away, they will find out. Off he marched into the dark, reached the mound turned and put a bullet straight through the light and the radio.
My uncle was also named after someone he met during the war, a bloke from Ireland, who had become one of his best friends.
My Grandad was a swimming instructor and he was teaching others how to swim, they were all pretty good and they swam across a bay. Toward the other side one of them got too tired and just started to sink to the bottom. Grandad swam back, dived down and seen his friend sinking, in a position that looked like he was sitting in an arm chair. He grabbed at him and pulled him back to the top, dragged him to shore and brought him back round.
His friend called him all the names under the sun as he said it was the best feeling he had ever felt.
It was a raid on an ammo dump, I think it was in the desert. The mission was to destroy all the ammunition and anyone inside. 140 men went into battle on trucks and jeeps. They fought and fought hard, eventually destroying the dump, which "lit up the sky like it was daylight".
He was shot toward the end of the battle and crawled in between 2 railway carriages. He put his right hand on the buffer to pull himself up and the buffers nudged together crushing his hand and breaking all the major bones across the back. Once up and stood between the carriages a German soldier walked past and spotted him, turned and pointed his gun, but, seeing he was injured he froze and didn't know what to do, he was just young and inexperienced. That was his error, grandads friend shoved him out the way and opened fire with a machine gun on the German, blowing his head straight off and peppering his body with about 20 bullets. He named my Dad after the man who saved him there.
He got a lift back to the field hospital in an American Jeep. He said they were lunatics but really good drivers and just went everywhere in a straight line, through hedges, streams, fields, garden walls you name it.
At Dunkirk he was on the last 20 boats to sail. Got back to the UK and was posted straight back to the front. Don't really know much more about that.
In Cairo, his whole squad descended upon a pub where there was another squad already drinking. Much drinking and fighting ensued. According to him 500 people all fighting each other whether they are friends or not is quite a sight.
A bouncer type in the pub tried to stop some of them fighting, he was a giant of a man, over 7 foot and built like a brick s
thouse. One of the smallest men in the place climbed on the bar, grabbed a magnum of champaign and brought it down on this guys head. It split in half like a coconut.On guard duty again, in the desert, he spotted some of the men listening to the radio, he couldn't hear it but he could see the red light for the on/off. He marched over and told them to turn it off as it was highly visible. They point blank refused to believe that anyone could see the light, so wouldn't turn it off.
He said that if he could see it from that mound over there, pointing to a mound about 300 yards away, they will find out. Off he marched into the dark, reached the mound turned and put a bullet straight through the light and the radio.
My uncle was also named after someone he met during the war, a bloke from Ireland, who had become one of his best friends.
My Grandad was a swimming instructor and he was teaching others how to swim, they were all pretty good and they swam across a bay. Toward the other side one of them got too tired and just started to sink to the bottom. Grandad swam back, dived down and seen his friend sinking, in a position that looked like he was sitting in an arm chair. He grabbed at him and pulled him back to the top, dragged him to shore and brought him back round.
His friend called him all the names under the sun as he said it was the best feeling he had ever felt.
Edited by WorAl on Thursday 11th February 16:38
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