Family WW2 stories
Discussion
I was remembering the other day when I was young we would go and visit my grandparents and they would tell us stories about the war. My brother and I were quite close in age so were both learning about the war at school as well.
A couple of stories I remember.
Grandad was sent to the trenches in France. One day he was napping and had put his helmet on his chest, a shell landed nearby and blew the helmet apart, he was fine save for a bits of shrapnel.
He was at Dunkirk, the boat they were aiming for left without them as they were pinned down by gunfire on their way there. They stood on the beach and watched that boat blown to pieces.
My gran lived on the south coast, one day coming back from shopping a wayward V2 landed in the field and the explosion spun the bus she was on round.
The German bombers used to fly low overhead on their way out. One day she was putting washing out and a bomber came overhead very low. The pilot waved to her. My gran didn't take any s
t and flicked him the V sign, the proper one, palms facing in.
What stories do others have from family? Hopefully some more exciting that mine.
A couple of stories I remember.
Grandad was sent to the trenches in France. One day he was napping and had put his helmet on his chest, a shell landed nearby and blew the helmet apart, he was fine save for a bits of shrapnel.
He was at Dunkirk, the boat they were aiming for left without them as they were pinned down by gunfire on their way there. They stood on the beach and watched that boat blown to pieces.
My gran lived on the south coast, one day coming back from shopping a wayward V2 landed in the field and the explosion spun the bus she was on round.
The German bombers used to fly low overhead on their way out. One day she was putting washing out and a bomber came overhead very low. The pilot waved to her. My gran didn't take any s
t and flicked him the V sign, the proper one, palms facing in.What stories do others have from family? Hopefully some more exciting that mine.
My Grandad was in the ARP.
They were on a training course, somewhere down South re the new "V1" and being told how when the noise stopped, that was the time to worry as a bomb would have run out of fuel for it's engine and would be dropping soon.
All the while in the background there had been "Phut-Phut-Phut" now stopped.
Grandad asked the ARP training them, where has the noise gone? ARP training the group told everyone to get to the air raid shelter asap. All survived, but the ARP reckoned as he was training, rather than in normal action mode, he'd whited the noise out and not realised one was on the way down.
Grandad sufferred a shoulder injury and ended up back North as a driver from a factory Crewe with aircraft parts to Northern airfields. Now remember there was no M6, no M56, just A roads and driving at night under blackout conditions.
Usually you were sent in convoy to follow each other. He has many tales of being at the wrong destination from being sent int he wrong convoy, i.e. Crewe to Woodford ending up at Risley ROF or Burtonwood. His best attempt though was from Crewe to somewhere near Preston (perhaps where Smalarmsby is today) and running out of fuel on the A6 on Shap "just as dawn arose to see the other chaps roll down the hill away from him". Turns out he had quite a talent at Cheshire crossroads for slipping into the wrong convoy.
He repeated this with me as a teen when I needed a flight out of Manchester airport in the 1970s and we asked directions and got told to follow the bus in front - the old orange GMPTE buses - of course, when he pulled up at the Manchester airport bus garage to let me out - there were some brief questions to say the least!.
They were on a training course, somewhere down South re the new "V1" and being told how when the noise stopped, that was the time to worry as a bomb would have run out of fuel for it's engine and would be dropping soon.
All the while in the background there had been "Phut-Phut-Phut" now stopped.
Grandad asked the ARP training them, where has the noise gone? ARP training the group told everyone to get to the air raid shelter asap. All survived, but the ARP reckoned as he was training, rather than in normal action mode, he'd whited the noise out and not realised one was on the way down.
Grandad sufferred a shoulder injury and ended up back North as a driver from a factory Crewe with aircraft parts to Northern airfields. Now remember there was no M6, no M56, just A roads and driving at night under blackout conditions.
Usually you were sent in convoy to follow each other. He has many tales of being at the wrong destination from being sent int he wrong convoy, i.e. Crewe to Woodford ending up at Risley ROF or Burtonwood. His best attempt though was from Crewe to somewhere near Preston (perhaps where Smalarmsby is today) and running out of fuel on the A6 on Shap "just as dawn arose to see the other chaps roll down the hill away from him". Turns out he had quite a talent at Cheshire crossroads for slipping into the wrong convoy.
He repeated this with me as a teen when I needed a flight out of Manchester airport in the 1970s and we asked directions and got told to follow the bus in front - the old orange GMPTE buses - of course, when he pulled up at the Manchester airport bus garage to let me out - there were some brief questions to say the least!.
My father was at boarding school during the war and a Junkers 88 was shot down in the school grounds. Before it was taken away the boys helped themselves to a number of 'momentoes'. My father still has a pitot tube in his study. My brothers and I went to the same school and, to this day, it still has a rather macabre display cabinet with bits of the wreckage and artefacts from the crew on display
My Dad lived near Ramsgate and did a milk round before school, he recalls having a "shrapnel collection", random bits of shrapnel that he found while walking.
One morning after spending the night huddled under the Morrison shelter in the Kitchen, he went on his rounds only to find one of his delivery streets closed off and his customers houses flattened. Pretty shocking for a young kid.
He also remembers the doodlebugs (V rockets), and the sound to this day, the way he describes it was that the psychological aspect of the weapon was terrifying, hearing the sound stop then waiting for the explosion hoping that it wasn't heading your way. Apparently if you were outside, it was possible to determine roughly how far away it was and it's approximate direction by the noise.
My Grandad was Ground Crew at RAF Manston, recounted stories of using a high pressure hose to clean out areas of Aircraft where the gunner or crew had been hit by large calibre rounds. Bloody horrific.
My Nan on my Mums side told me she would use OXO on her legs and draw a line to make it look like she had stockings on. I think she was having a yarn though.
One morning after spending the night huddled under the Morrison shelter in the Kitchen, he went on his rounds only to find one of his delivery streets closed off and his customers houses flattened. Pretty shocking for a young kid.
He also remembers the doodlebugs (V rockets), and the sound to this day, the way he describes it was that the psychological aspect of the weapon was terrifying, hearing the sound stop then waiting for the explosion hoping that it wasn't heading your way. Apparently if you were outside, it was possible to determine roughly how far away it was and it's approximate direction by the noise.
My Grandad was Ground Crew at RAF Manston, recounted stories of using a high pressure hose to clean out areas of Aircraft where the gunner or crew had been hit by large calibre rounds. Bloody horrific.
My Nan on my Mums side told me she would use OXO on her legs and draw a line to make it look like she had stockings on. I think she was having a yarn though.
My great uncle Ron was always good at stories when he came to visit from South Africa. Thankfully someone has put some of it online.
http://www.no-50-and-no-61-squadrons-association.c...
http://www.no-50-and-no-61-squadrons-association.c...
Another one that springs to mind is a friend of the families husband who was serving on HMS Warspite when it got hit by a glider bomb.
She knew enough about his duties to know that if he had been on duty he was alive or off duty and dead.
This was 1943 so she only found out he was alive when he walked through the front door a week or so later.
She knew enough about his duties to know that if he had been on duty he was alive or off duty and dead.
This was 1943 so she only found out he was alive when he walked through the front door a week or so later.
Christ where do I start? I'm not sure I'll ever post the full stories as they aren't my tales to tell but my grandfather lived a bit of a life. From what we pieced together it would make a Hollywood film that could only fail if people thought it was too fantastic to be true.
Once the generation above me pass I'm determined to make a story of it for my generations children to understand as it really should never be forgotten.
Nazis, resistance, child soldiers and fighting for the allies in one of the greatest battles in WW2 are all part of his story. Quite the man...
Once the generation above me pass I'm determined to make a story of it for my generations children to understand as it really should never be forgotten.
Nazis, resistance, child soldiers and fighting for the allies in one of the greatest battles in WW2 are all part of his story. Quite the man...
My wife’s grandad was a courier (I think) in Germany in WW2, never spoke much about it but did tell a few stories of just the utter horror of dropping letters off to generals etc and passing bodies everywhere, having to drive over/around corpses on his motorbike. Just straight up crazy to even have to think about it tbh.
My late mum was a nurse at Leicester Royal Infirmary and looked after Dunkirk wounded. Her lasting memory was the motivation of the patients to get well and get back fighting the Hun, and the night rounds where while wards were empty as they had got out - the ones with a leg missing being supported by those who could walk and the blinded being led by those with one eye etc all with a common purpose - the local pub.
My Dad was born in 1925 and always wanted to go to sea. His parents had other ideas as he was quite bright. He got his way when the grammer school he was due to go to was bombed out. He joined the Royal Navy as a "boy sailor" in 1941 at the age of 16. Two years later he was sent to Scapa Flow as a qulified telegraphist to join his first ship, a convoy escort bound for Murmansk/Arkangel...he came down with a stomach bug and was kept ashore. The ship was torpedoed and sank with huge loss of life. He eventually joined another ship and sailed two convoys. He told me about huge seas and sea water freezing on the foredeck - they used to send the younger, lower ratings out on deck tied to a rope with a steam hose or a sledgehammer to get the ice off - when the foredeck was really icy he said you could feel the ship shudder as the bow struggled to get above sea level with all that extra weight on the bow...He sailed all over the place, serving later on HMS King George V in the Mediterranean, then the Pacific.
"In late 1944, HMS King George V set sail for Alexandria, Egypt, and was diverted briefly to bombard German positions in the Mediterranean Sea. She arrived in Ceylon on 15 Dec 1944. On 16 Jan 1945, she set sail with other warships, bombarding Japanese oil refineries on Sumatra, Dutch East Indies. In late Mar 1945, she bombarded airfields on the Sakishimo Islands of Ryukyu Islands, Japan. On 4 May, she bombarded airfields in the Ryukyu Islands. In mid-Jul, she joined American battleships in the bombardment of Honshu, Japan. She supported carriers during the Okinawa Campaign. During the night of 29 to 30 Jul 1945, she bombarded Hamamatsu, Honshu, Japan, which would prove to be her final combat action in the Pacific War. She was present at the Japanese surrender ceremony in Tokyo Bay, Japan.
In Jan 1946, HMS King George V provided transport for the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester on their official visit to Australia, returning to Portsmouth, England in Mar 1946"
That was when he finally came home from war. No fanfare, no cheers at the docks, no VE Day/VJ Day celebrations. Just a "hello, love" from my Grandma when he finally made it home to the Wirral. He didn't have to buy a drink at the local that evening, though!
"In late 1944, HMS King George V set sail for Alexandria, Egypt, and was diverted briefly to bombard German positions in the Mediterranean Sea. She arrived in Ceylon on 15 Dec 1944. On 16 Jan 1945, she set sail with other warships, bombarding Japanese oil refineries on Sumatra, Dutch East Indies. In late Mar 1945, she bombarded airfields on the Sakishimo Islands of Ryukyu Islands, Japan. On 4 May, she bombarded airfields in the Ryukyu Islands. In mid-Jul, she joined American battleships in the bombardment of Honshu, Japan. She supported carriers during the Okinawa Campaign. During the night of 29 to 30 Jul 1945, she bombarded Hamamatsu, Honshu, Japan, which would prove to be her final combat action in the Pacific War. She was present at the Japanese surrender ceremony in Tokyo Bay, Japan.
In Jan 1946, HMS King George V provided transport for the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester on their official visit to Australia, returning to Portsmouth, England in Mar 1946"
That was when he finally came home from war. No fanfare, no cheers at the docks, no VE Day/VJ Day celebrations. Just a "hello, love" from my Grandma when he finally made it home to the Wirral. He didn't have to buy a drink at the local that evening, though!
V6 Pushfit said:
My late mum was a nurse at Leicester Royal Infirmary and looked after Dunkirk wounded. Her lasting memory was the motivation of the patients to get well and get back fighting the Hun, and the night rounds where while wards were empty as they had got out - the ones with a leg missing being supported by those who could walk and the blinded being led by those with one eye etc all with a common purpose - the local pub.
Old boy I used to drink with was an ex Para and he was in hospital after having his toe shot off iirc so he went into town for some beer but he couldn't get served. He returned to the ward most pissed off to be asked by the sister why he hadn't taken a red tie?Turns out they gave red ties to the genuinely wounded and those with VD didn't get beer.
Grandad: Polish Army, Defence of Poland, Romanian Bridgehead, UK and Polish Armoured division, Falaise Pocket, occupation of Germany
Great Grandad: German 6th Army in Russia, POW until 1956
Grandma: Luftwaffe at Charlottenburg Airfield, Berlin until March 1945
Grandad: Dutch resistance, then UK, Royal Engineers through invasion of France until war end. Rumours he may have been involved in clean up of concentration camps, which may explain why he hated my Grandma with a consuming passion
Grandma: Ireland, then volunteered as a nurse towards war end
That's about it.
Great Grandad: German 6th Army in Russia, POW until 1956
Grandma: Luftwaffe at Charlottenburg Airfield, Berlin until March 1945
Grandad: Dutch resistance, then UK, Royal Engineers through invasion of France until war end. Rumours he may have been involved in clean up of concentration camps, which may explain why he hated my Grandma with a consuming passion
Grandma: Ireland, then volunteered as a nurse towards war end
That's about it.
My gran wrote this in her diary, on Christmas eve, 1945, when she was working with UNRRA in Belsen. She was one of 12 nurses specifically selected as part of the liberation team, with her specialist expertise with mental health.
1945 CHRISTMAS IN BELSEN WITH UNRRA.
It would seem that no place in this ravaged world could, with greater ??? {unreadable word}, shake off the horrors of the past and take on at Christmas-time the promises of "the Christ that is to be" than that symbol of unutterable horror, the Belsen Concentration Camp in Germany. Yet from the Glyn Hughes Hospital at Belsen I have written lines that make recovery seem possible anywhere.
Four days and nights, everyone, including UNRRA staff, German staff, D.P. hospital staff, and patients have been busy planning and preparing and making things for "eine frohe Weihnacht". At last all is in readiness - the offices, the hospital corridors, and the wards are decorated with sprays of fir and Christmas trees of varying sizes. Each patient has his or her own little tree for which most of them have made their own ornaments and decorations. Some have created beautiful little figures and other pretty things out of scraps of paper, dabs of paint, and bits of cotton wool. They have produced stars and other things from silver wrappings off cigarettes and chocolates bars. Their ingenuity has been incredible. It is truly amazing that after so many years of oppression and sadness these people can now produce such beauty. Their powers of recuperation, both mental and physical, are beyond anything we would except of our people at home.
It is now Christmas Eve - Weihnacht. In the afternoon there was a happy gathering of the patients who are up in the main hall of the hospital around the large Christmas tree and the piano. Carols are sung in Polish and Hungarian, and also in German by the German sisters. Many of them were the tunes we sing at home. Santa Claus appeared and made his rounds of the hospital wards with 3 or 4 parcels for every one of the 400 or more patients as well as the D.P. workers employed in the hospital. Many of these gifts were made in the hospital's occupational therapy department by patients and hospital workers. Some of the articles were sent to us by kind friends back home and others were donations from the UNRRA staff out of their own rations of cigarettes, chocolate bars, soap, etc. No one was forgotten.
As I made my rounds tonight of the whole hospital many patients wore smiles which demonstrated their appreciation. Others were quite voluble with their praise and thanks to us. Many were quietly curled up in their beds with their faces towards the wall and believing their thoughts were of those loved ones who did not survive the horrors and deprivations of the concentration camps. One patient has just passed away - a German, one of those who because of hatred of the Nazi regime went through the horrors of the concentration camps and suffered starvation, then typhus, pneumonia, and the inevitable tuberculosis. But now his Christmas will be a happier one than we could have planned for him here.
At midnight some of the German nurses were gathered in the hospital radio room, where we heard the "Glocken spielen" from some of the surviving churches of Germany. Handkerchiefs were drawn and many tears were wiped away.
Outdoors the fog of the past three days has lifted and the moon and stars shone brightly. The stillness of the night was broken by the singing of carols in one of the nearby camp blocks. In these rows of camp blocks now are housed nearly 20,000 of the well survivors of the camps which only a year ago had no Christmas carols, or "kein Weihnachtsmann", but starvation, disease and horror.
Can we hope that never again the world will see such horror and devastation of human life ? As we see new life and new hopes springing up in the lives of these people, can we also hope for a new philosophy of life, rid of all that Nazi culture, and a better outlook for the future in the hearts and minds of the German people ? We ask "is this possible" ? Can we not help to make it so ? Let us hope and pray that as men everywhere tonight are reminded of the coming of the Christ Child. He may truly dwell in all hearts as the Prince of Peace".
The image below is a drawing in coloured pencils of the Glyn Hughes Hospital, dated 1946, which was presented to my Gran by the doctors in the hospital as a gift.
=======================================================================
1945 CHRISTMAS IN BELSEN WITH UNRRA.
It would seem that no place in this ravaged world could, with greater ??? {unreadable word}, shake off the horrors of the past and take on at Christmas-time the promises of "the Christ that is to be" than that symbol of unutterable horror, the Belsen Concentration Camp in Germany. Yet from the Glyn Hughes Hospital at Belsen I have written lines that make recovery seem possible anywhere.
Four days and nights, everyone, including UNRRA staff, German staff, D.P. hospital staff, and patients have been busy planning and preparing and making things for "eine frohe Weihnacht". At last all is in readiness - the offices, the hospital corridors, and the wards are decorated with sprays of fir and Christmas trees of varying sizes. Each patient has his or her own little tree for which most of them have made their own ornaments and decorations. Some have created beautiful little figures and other pretty things out of scraps of paper, dabs of paint, and bits of cotton wool. They have produced stars and other things from silver wrappings off cigarettes and chocolates bars. Their ingenuity has been incredible. It is truly amazing that after so many years of oppression and sadness these people can now produce such beauty. Their powers of recuperation, both mental and physical, are beyond anything we would except of our people at home.
It is now Christmas Eve - Weihnacht. In the afternoon there was a happy gathering of the patients who are up in the main hall of the hospital around the large Christmas tree and the piano. Carols are sung in Polish and Hungarian, and also in German by the German sisters. Many of them were the tunes we sing at home. Santa Claus appeared and made his rounds of the hospital wards with 3 or 4 parcels for every one of the 400 or more patients as well as the D.P. workers employed in the hospital. Many of these gifts were made in the hospital's occupational therapy department by patients and hospital workers. Some of the articles were sent to us by kind friends back home and others were donations from the UNRRA staff out of their own rations of cigarettes, chocolate bars, soap, etc. No one was forgotten.
As I made my rounds tonight of the whole hospital many patients wore smiles which demonstrated their appreciation. Others were quite voluble with their praise and thanks to us. Many were quietly curled up in their beds with their faces towards the wall and believing their thoughts were of those loved ones who did not survive the horrors and deprivations of the concentration camps. One patient has just passed away - a German, one of those who because of hatred of the Nazi regime went through the horrors of the concentration camps and suffered starvation, then typhus, pneumonia, and the inevitable tuberculosis. But now his Christmas will be a happier one than we could have planned for him here.
At midnight some of the German nurses were gathered in the hospital radio room, where we heard the "Glocken spielen" from some of the surviving churches of Germany. Handkerchiefs were drawn and many tears were wiped away.
Outdoors the fog of the past three days has lifted and the moon and stars shone brightly. The stillness of the night was broken by the singing of carols in one of the nearby camp blocks. In these rows of camp blocks now are housed nearly 20,000 of the well survivors of the camps which only a year ago had no Christmas carols, or "kein Weihnachtsmann", but starvation, disease and horror.
Can we hope that never again the world will see such horror and devastation of human life ? As we see new life and new hopes springing up in the lives of these people, can we also hope for a new philosophy of life, rid of all that Nazi culture, and a better outlook for the future in the hearts and minds of the German people ? We ask "is this possible" ? Can we not help to make it so ? Let us hope and pray that as men everywhere tonight are reminded of the coming of the Christ Child. He may truly dwell in all hearts as the Prince of Peace".
=======================================================================
The image below is a drawing in coloured pencils of the Glyn Hughes Hospital, dated 1946, which was presented to my Gran by the doctors in the hospital as a gift.
My grandad served in the Royal Marines detached to the cruiser Dido. I believe he undertook gunnery duties. He is part of a guard detachment here on the German Cruiser Prinz Eugen at the surrender of the German fleet, Copenhagen 1945.
Great Uncle was a rear gunner on bomber crew, transferred to Avro Lincolns in Malaysia at the end of the war. He was never quite right, I think the stress of 30 plus ops seriously affected him.
Great grandad was on HMS Hood, I have his ships log somewhere. He transferred out of the navy before the start of the war. Good job too, or I might not be here....
Great Uncle was a rear gunner on bomber crew, transferred to Avro Lincolns in Malaysia at the end of the war. He was never quite right, I think the stress of 30 plus ops seriously affected him.
Great grandad was on HMS Hood, I have his ships log somewhere. He transferred out of the navy before the start of the war. Good job too, or I might not be here....
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