The Virtual Pub
Come Inside... => Saloon Bar => Topic started by: Barman on November 11, 2008, 11:05:44 AM
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Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.
Wilfred Owen
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Thought I'd share this picture with you taken in 1937:
My Grandfather centre - fought in the First World War
My Dad on the right - fought in Burma 44-45
My Uncle on the left - lied about his age and fought in Italy
The youngest Uncle - Called up to the RAF and was posted to Kenya during the Mau Mau uprising.
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVAE3sA.jpg&hash=ffd4a0864bc9a1131ad4f2f017bce5aff15e6275) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVAE3sA)
We and our children at least come from more fortunate generations that haven't faced total war.
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Excellent Uncle... happy088
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I've been thinking along the same lines it seems.
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
that is forever England. There shall be
in that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
a dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
a body of England's breathing English air,
washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
a pulse in the eternal mind, no less
gives back somewhere the thoughts by England given;
her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
and laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
in hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
--Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)
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My dad was at the D Day landings. I have been to the cemeteries.Shocking
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Opa, my great grandfather, was part of the newly formed royal flying corp in WWI. He didn't speak about it much.
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Opa?
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In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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Opa?
Dutch for Grandfather, my Mum is half Dutch.
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Opa, my great grandfather, was part of the newly formed royal flying corp in WWI. He didn't speak about it much.
I only discovered that my father was at Dunkerque after his death... he wouldn't speak about it at all... noooo:
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I must get his war diary off my mean sister.She could give me a copy for Xmas.
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Not quite in the same league as the poems already mentioned I came across this researching an english assignment back when I was in school.
16 years old when I went to war,
To fight for a land fit for heroes,
God on my side,and a gun in my hand,
Counting my days down to zero,
And I marched and I fought and I bled And I died
I never did get any older,
But I knew at the time, That a year in the line,
Is a long enough life for a soldier,
We all volunteered,
And we wrote down our names,
And we added two years to our ages,
Eager for life and ahead of the game,
Ready for history's pages,
And we fought and we brawled
And we whored 'til we stood,
Ten thousand shoulder to shoulder,
A thirst for the Hun,
We were food for the gun,and that's
What you are when you're soldiers,
I heard my friend cry,
And he sank to his knees,coughing blood
As he screamed for his mother
And I tell by his side,
And that's how we died,
Clinging like kids to each other,
And I lay in the mud and the guts and the blood,
And I wept as his body grew colder,
And I called for my mother, but she never came,
Though it wasn't my fault, I wasn't to blame,
The day not half over
And ten thousand slain,and now
There's nobody remembers our names
And that's how it is for a soldier.
I only discovered that my father was at Dunkerque after his death... he wouldn't speak about it at all... noooo:
My grandfather was a POW held by the Japanese and he never talked about it to anyone. I think that experiences like these are impossible to convey to anyone who hasnt gone through something similar themselves. There is no frame of reference.
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Mum played croupiers during the war in an Ops. Room up in Scotland just like the one in the pic.
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVASvTJ.jpg&hash=fe36db403646a2c4a1a12b3aa57d2e4442c25ee6) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVASvTJ)
On the evening of May 10, 1941, she was on duty plotting traffic and nothing much was going on. She began to plot a single plane over the North sea coming inland. She followed it over the coast and further but eventually the signal on the radar ceased. She told me she was torn off a strip by the CO who said it couldn't just disappear! The pilot had bailed out and the plane crash landed. It was Rudolph Hess.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world...
To be continued if I can find a pic
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My Mum serviced army trucks...
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Mum played croupiers during the war in an Ops. Room up in Scotland just like the one in the pic.
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVASvTJ.jpg&hash=fe36db403646a2c4a1a12b3aa57d2e4442c25ee6) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVASvTJ)
On the evening of May 10, 1941, she was on duty plotting traffic and nothing much was going on. She began to plot a single plane over the North sea coming inland. She followed it over the coast and further but eventually the signal on the radar ceased. She told me she was torn off a strip by the CO who said it couldn't just disappear! The pilot had bailed out and the plane crash landed. It was Rudolph Hess.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world...
To be continued if I can find a pic
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Fantastic story!! Well done!
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Well done all of them.
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A few years back I saw an Alan Whicker series about the invasion of Italy. He used documentary footage. I saw my dad on it!
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I think I remember seeing that; he was a war reporter wasn't he? Not your Dad obviously ~
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Yes he was (Whicker that is). My dad was an engineer (REME)
We took the Boy to the D Day cemeteries in 2005. He was 7. Even he was moved
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Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, Dad was messing about flying Sunderlands.
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVAZNR0.jpg&hash=e3e33e234aa25752901853714cf9dc4668873e44) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVAZNR0)
Burma, Singapore and Hong Kong. I have, a few feet from me here a Japanese Katana which was handed over at the Jap surrender in Singapore. Dad was asked to make up numbers as there weren't enough high ranking Allied officers to take part in the ceremony.
It's not as good looking as his one being a WWII standard issue, but it's still lethal eeek:
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FPqLSHri.jpg&hash=4783559a9aa62bb43bede59d34cd24b94562cc63) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=PqLSHri)
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Coool! worthy:
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My Dad was evacuated out of the Burmese jungle by Sunderland flying boat.
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My Dad was evacuated out of the Burmese jungle by Sunderland flying boat.
eeek: Amazing coincidence!
One of things my Dad told me which I've never heard anything about was Japanese Kamikaze MTBs. Everyone's heard of the Kamikaze planes but they also used to pack small boats with high explosives and drive them at full tilt at moored Sunderlands and Catalinas.
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I was once driving past Battersea Power Station with a mate and his German girlfriend. He said his dad'sjob in the war was to defend it with AA guns.
She said her dad's job was to bomb it.
We laughed so much we had to stop the car.
Absurd
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My Dad was evacuated out of the Burmese jungle by Sunderland flying boat.
eeek: Amazing coincidence!
One of things my Dad told me which I've never heard anything about was Japanese Kamikaze MTBs. Everyone's heard of the Kamikaze planes but they also used to pack small boats with high explosives and drive them at full tilt at moored Sunderlands and Catalinas.
It wasnt just planes and boats though, they also had kamikaze minisubs. Basically an oversized torpedo with a, for want of a better word 'cockpit' for the operator to use. If memory serves me correctly they would be sealed in and would either destroy their target or suffocate.
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My grandfather signed in 1914, in Ireland. Served in france, was gassed, but survived. He never spoke about what happened.
He died about 35 years ago, Boxing Day, after a very merry Xmas night, my unlces had to put him to bed.
Now no-one in the family seems to know what he did or where he served, no medals or service record/card but some photos of him in uniform. So far I have traced his WW1 record cards (Irish Fusileers & Leinster regiments) so can start to put a few things together.
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My grandfather signed in 1914, in Ireland. Served in france, was gassed, but survived. He never spoke about what happened.
He died about 35 years ago, Boxing Day, after a very merry Xmas night, my unlces had to put him to bed.
Now no-one in the family seems to know what he did or where he served, no medals or service record/card but some photos of him in uniform. So far I have traced his WW1 record cards (Irish Fusileers & Leinster regiments) so can start to put a few things together.
I can recommend this guy... (http://www.battlefields.co.uk/index.php)
He has an amazing ability to research the history of WW1 and will tailor his tours to include your relatives...
I took my mother with them to find out more about her Great Uncle. David took us to places where he had been billeted, where his regiment marched, where he fought and ultimately died. He managed to dig our regimental records that we had not accessed and had located his grave...
An excellent and totally emotional journey...
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It is emotional and humbling.
Bit quirkey at times as well. My great-uncles grave in Holland gives his name as "John Nolan, son mary of Athy, Co Kildare".
No mention of his father!
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Anyone going to Holland should visit Overloon ~ site of one of the biggest tank battles of WWII. Deeply moving.
http://www.oorlogsmuseum.nl/index.php?t=en
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Mum played croupiers during the war in an Ops. Room up in Scotland just like the one in the pic.
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVASvTJ.jpg&hash=fe36db403646a2c4a1a12b3aa57d2e4442c25ee6) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVASvTJ)
What a coincidence, So did my mother!
RAF West Freugh if memory serves me well (it often doesn't these days redface:)
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Mother's Father served in The 2nd Boer War (Driscoll's Scouts) and then joined The 1st King Edward Horse in 1916 serving in France and Italy then back to France (The Somme) until the end of WWI. He then stayed on in Belgium with the regiment until April 1916 helping to police the resettlement of Belgium, repatriation of prisoners etc. During WWII he was too old (59 when it started) but worked in the Southampton Docks as a stevedore and nights on Firewatch duties. Their house was destroyed by bombing. None of them were injured.
Her Two Brothers served in the RAF from 1939 until 1946 (One in India and Burma as a radio op the other in UK Fighter Command then France after D Day)
My Father served during WWII with The Royal Hampshire Regiment (Ended as Sergeant Instructor)
His Brother was in Singapore with the Army when they were overrun by the Japanese and spent 3 years on the Burma Railroad ~ he survived.
I joined the RAF in 1963 and served for 6 years, saw brief active service in Aden.
So many reasons to support the Poppy Appeal. We all survived but lost many friends.
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Mum played croupiers during the war in an Ops. Room up in Scotland just like the one in the pic.
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVASvTJ.jpg&hash=fe36db403646a2c4a1a12b3aa57d2e4442c25ee6) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVASvTJ)
What a coincidence, So did my mother!
RAF West Freugh if memory serves me well (it often doesn't these days redface:)
I think mine was at RAF Kinloss up on the Moray Firth which would make sense of plotting traffic over the North Sea, but she was also at others in N. Ireland and in the Newcastle area. Either she was following Dad and his Flying Boat training or it was the other way around.
There was one coded phrase which she heard and had to pass on frequently, and never knew what it meant. It's lived on in family leg ends...
"No.42 is now shining" rubschin:
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Mum played croupiers during the war in an Ops. Room up in Scotland just like the one in the pic.
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVASvTJ.jpg&hash=fe36db403646a2c4a1a12b3aa57d2e4442c25ee6) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVASvTJ)
What a coincidence, So did my mother!
RAF West Freugh if memory serves me well (it often doesn't these days redface:)
I think mine was at RAF Kinloss up on the Moray Firth which would make sense of plotting traffic over the North Sea, but she was also at others in N. Ireland and in the Newcastle area. Either she was following Dad and his Flying Boat training or it was the other way around.
There was one coded phrase which she heard and had to pass on frequently, and never knew what it meant. It's lived on in family leg ends...
"No.42 is now shining" rubschin:
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.postimage.org%2FaVCmnXr.jpg&hash=abe22eb00e414bd58cfa86ff1366ce5db0734dfe) (http://www.postimage.org/image.php?v=aVCmnXr)
I think West Freugh was involved with anti-submarine control for the Atlantic convoys. Sadly she is long gone so I can't ask.
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Makes sense being on the West coast. The same here regarding mine's departure, and I don't think records would ever hold or acknowledge info on codes.
What is curious running through this thread is a kind of "Six Degrees of Separation" idea; but not with us, disparate individuals but with our forebears, caught up in a common purpose.
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Threads like this make the whole thing worth while... cloud9:
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Cheers. In Memoriam happ096
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Lest we forget... cry:
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Indeed
(https://image.shutterstock.com/image-vector/remembrance-poppy-appeal-modern-paper-260nw-1553906711.jpg)