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It’s Remembrance Sunday, a day to pause and reflect on those who fought for our freedom. Although this is not a photographic post, I hope you’ll indulge me a little whilst I too remember those nearest and dearest to me.
My side of the family is a military family. Most of my cousins are in the British Army or Royal Air Force, as were their fathers and fathers’ fathers before them. Every generation of our family has lost someone who died fighting for their country, and I have heard many brave stories of relatives I have never met who were heroes of their time.
My father in a officially commissioned portrait during WWII
My parents too fought in WWII. My mother was a spotter for the gunners who shot down German aircraft. She described her years in the WRAF (Women's Royal Air Force) as the best years of her life. The camaraderie, the fighting spirit, and the belief in survival against all odds…these were the making of her. Of course she said she had a wild time too…at one point she apparently dated six young men at once, although ultimately she only had eyes for my father who was a handsome young RAF officer. He wasn’t a pilot, he was a communications officer, and he travelled on many a bombing mission because of his expertise in Morse Code. In later years he would often try to teach Morse to me. Silly teenager that I was, I wasn’t that interested (boys and school taking up most of my time) but in retrospect, I wish I had learned the language.
Dad, in Africa, indulging in a drink or two
Towards the end of the Second World War, my father was stationed in Africa. His plane was bombed and he was in the water for two days, clinging to a piece of wood to stay afloat. He was eventually picked up by another ship which was subsequently also bombed, and again he was in the water for another day and night before he was rescued. When he returned to England he was found to be suffering from diabetes. The doctors concluded that it was the shock of staying in the water for so long that caused his body to stop processing insulin. Yes he had survived an incredible ordeal, but the price was high, and it was to be paid in daily instalments for the rest of his life.
Shortly after his rescue, the War ended. In the post-war celebrations, everyone was ecstatic to be alive. There were celebrations, incredible street parties and a spirit of renewed hope the likes of which have not been repeated since. The War had not only re-written much of the World map, it had irrevocably changed the lives of every man, woman and child who experienced it. Realising that life was simply too short, my parents decided to get married and then proceeded to live happily ever after.
Not just today, but every day, I remember my parents with love and admiration. I look at their photographs and I remember the lessons they taught me, I remember their determination and their courage, and I remember to never, ever give up. No matter how bad life seems, there is always hope.
My Dad on the left, Mum in the centre, her brother on the right
The above title is “hope” in Morse code.
My side of the family is a military family. Most of my cousins are in the British Army or Royal Air Force, as were their fathers and fathers’ fathers before them. Every generation of our family has lost someone who died fighting for their country, and I have heard many brave stories of relatives I have never met who were heroes of their time.
My father in a officially commissioned portrait during WWII
My parents too fought in WWII. My mother was a spotter for the gunners who shot down German aircraft. She described her years in the WRAF (Women's Royal Air Force) as the best years of her life. The camaraderie, the fighting spirit, and the belief in survival against all odds…these were the making of her. Of course she said she had a wild time too…at one point she apparently dated six young men at once, although ultimately she only had eyes for my father who was a handsome young RAF officer. He wasn’t a pilot, he was a communications officer, and he travelled on many a bombing mission because of his expertise in Morse Code. In later years he would often try to teach Morse to me. Silly teenager that I was, I wasn’t that interested (boys and school taking up most of my time) but in retrospect, I wish I had learned the language.
Dad, in Africa, indulging in a drink or two
Towards the end of the Second World War, my father was stationed in Africa. His plane was bombed and he was in the water for two days, clinging to a piece of wood to stay afloat. He was eventually picked up by another ship which was subsequently also bombed, and again he was in the water for another day and night before he was rescued. When he returned to England he was found to be suffering from diabetes. The doctors concluded that it was the shock of staying in the water for so long that caused his body to stop processing insulin. Yes he had survived an incredible ordeal, but the price was high, and it was to be paid in daily instalments for the rest of his life.
Shortly after his rescue, the War ended. In the post-war celebrations, everyone was ecstatic to be alive. There were celebrations, incredible street parties and a spirit of renewed hope the likes of which have not been repeated since. The War had not only re-written much of the World map, it had irrevocably changed the lives of every man, woman and child who experienced it. Realising that life was simply too short, my parents decided to get married and then proceeded to live happily ever after.
Not just today, but every day, I remember my parents with love and admiration. I look at their photographs and I remember the lessons they taught me, I remember their determination and their courage, and I remember to never, ever give up. No matter how bad life seems, there is always hope.
My Dad on the left, Mum in the centre, her brother on the right
The above title is “hope” in Morse code.
Labels: family, Miscellaneous
posted by Lin at 2:22 PM
6 Comments:
Makes me remember my parents experiences as well and the suffering they and everybody in Britain went through all those years ago
Our troops in foreign parts now have all our admiration at this time
Many thanks
What a great post. Your father was not only handsome but also had kind eyes. You have every reason to be proud of both your parents and the tremendous courage shown by the English during this time. I may have mentioned to you that my study of WWII history gave me a deep respect for the perseverance and courage of the English. Clearly, there was no reason to hope, but the English never gave up. If they had, the world would be goose-stepping.
It is so ironic to see this post on the heels of my post about Leni Riefenstahl. The lessons of WWII should never be allowed to fade or be forgotten because that war had so much to teach us.
"Not just today, but every day, I remember my parents with love and admiration. I look at their photographs and I remember the lessons they taught me, I remember their determination and their courage, and I remember to never, ever give up. No matter how bad life seems, there is always hope."
What I great tribute. You are a lucky woman.
D.L. Wood
What a beautiful remembrance of your parents valor. Mine too went to war, father was with the Big Red One in North Africa and Mother went to work in a plane factory in Seattle. My father was wounded and shipped back three times because they were so short of men. It’s a sad legacy we remember, lots of people killed and more wounded for life. Thank you for posting.
such a wonderful remembrance, Lin. I enjoyed it thoroughly, beginning to end.
Odd how the two of us, for totally unrelated reasons, chose to reflect back to an aspect of WWII in our posts today. Very odd. But a nice coincidence.
In my family, it was my mother and her brother that were the veterans of WWII. (My dad was 4F because of asthma).
My two brothers are Army vets and I am a Navy vet. Luckily for us, the most tragic events from our years of service were hangovers, we all came home.
I've always thought that it took another vet to truly understand the separation from family and sometimes the danger. No matter how many words I used, I have never been able to accurately describe what it was like to those who never served.
I imagine it's the same for all you tough-as-nails Brits who fought and survived WWII against ridiculous odds, but at a much higher level.
I can only offer you my respect for you and your family on Remembrance Day. Their deeds and sacrifices helped shape a world where people like us can create and thrive in.
In our new world optimism, I hope our new leaders will not waste the blood and potential of future generations on worthless and winless causes like our current lame duck president has.
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