Stories From WW2

Needless to say the survivors of the Indianapolis have appeared publically in Indianapolis. They sold books and hats in a bank lobby and it was possible to talk with them. I was sort of in awe and all I could say was thanks.

I have met many veterans. Right after the war, a lot of them did not want to talk about the war. They were hard workers and had a great deal of common sense

 

I never got the chance to meet him, but my father told me that one of my great uncles on my father's side was a U.S Ranger that took part in D-Day. I seem to recall being told he assaulted some cliff guns at Pointe-Du-Hoc [I think that's how you spell it?]

My grandfather on my mother's side is in his 90s, his memory has been gone for years now, but he served in the U.S Navy in the pacific theater. I believe he was a mechanic of sorts.

 

That's an amazing story of courage, and one of Halsey's greatest blunders. Halsey wanted the carriers, even though the Japanese had very few pilots at that phase of the war, but they knew Halsey would probably take the bait.

I wish I could have heard that man's story with you.

 

My father was blind in one eye, so they didn't want him in combat. Instead he served at a U.S. Army surgical hospital in Fiji, where they put the wounded back together from all over the South Pacific. He was a Technical Sergeant overseeing the surgical suite.

He passed away in 2005.

 

My father was particularly haunted by the burn victims they received. They had some who were burned as part of the consequence of handling fuel and such, but many were burned in combat - I assume flamethrowers - and as part of the air and sea war.

After the war, he worked in an oil refinery where they wanted him on the ambulance crew as a side responsibility. He knew, through his experience during the war, which burn victims were likely to recover and which ones would not based on their wounds.

As a young boy, I was a little freaked out by a kid in the neighborhood who had been severely burned in a fire. He was disfigured on one side of his face and apparently had been burned down one side of his body since his arm and leg was also heavily scarred. My father noticed that I avoided him and has a long talk with me about what happens to people who are burned and how much courage it takes for them to try to live their lives normally when people gawk at them or avoid them. He did not scold me at all, but asked me to be as brave as that other boy and look past his appearance and figure out who he is as a person.

Unfortunately, that boy left school shortly afterward, but that compassionate life lesson stuck with me. Only when I was in college did I find out that my father had taken significant time each week to sit with the bedridden elderly, bathing and shaving the faces of the men, and helping people in the community. He did it so quietly, that I only knew he was up to something when he wasn't home during the day on his days off. But God knows.

Also a hugely important job. He probably built most of the permanent structures my father's hospital unit used.

 

Dad came from Texas and did his boot at MCRD in San Diego... From there he joined the War as a Howitzer Artillery Man at battles in Saipan Tinian and Guadalcanal... After the War he returned to San Diego where he married a young lady who had previous met upon leaving... They were married and settled in San Diego as many other vets settled here... The Navy is here and the Marines are too... I was raised in this military city... Was there for 57 years... The Midway is anchored here too... Did my boot here just like my Dad at MCRD then went to a place called Vietnam... I love to hear war stories but in San Diego you can see it and feel it... Brother Glen

 

I can't relay any stories from relatives as my dad had such poor eyesight he could not go into the armed forces but was put into the fire service where he served in the stores. Two uncles on my mum's side were both in government service so were exempted. One was in the Home Guard, and I once saw him with a rifle.

My own memories of the war. We lived in Stockwell London at the beginning of the war and I was told that in an air raid, I used to grab my baby sister and drag her under the stairs.

We later moved to Caterham where we were a couple of miles from Kenley aerodrome which was a wartime fighter base and under constant attack. We were even nearer to the Guards Barracks about 100 yards away.

I used to walk home for lunch, but one day our headmistress said there was a new German weapon called a flying bomb. It was very dangerous and anyone going home to lunch could stay to school lunch. I was more worried about what my mum would say if I didn't come home for lunch than I was of the German bomb.

We saw many of those bombs passing over, they had the nick names of doodlebug and Buzz Bomb. One time my mum, my sister and I were watching one, when the engine cut out right over our house. We dashed to our shelter. When the engine stopped they went into a steep dive and then exploded. However although we heard many others exploding, we didn't hear an explosion from that one. Perhaps it glided on somewhere. There were stories that the resistance sometime put sandbags in them, but seeing that they were built in concentration camps that seems unlikely.

 

I remember seeing movies of Buzz bombs over London and the Blitzkrieg... Talk about hell on earth... Sometime we think we had it bad but on the other side of the pond, others were getting their share too... Lest we forget WW 2 had an effect on the world... Let us never forget the foreign vets... Brother Glen

 

Both sets of my grandparents lived in inner London London. Maternal in Southwark. My grandmother was a WW1 widow and lived in an apartment block. They were bombed in the beginning of the war. They were evacuatated to Morden in South London. (My gran and my aunt) My grandmother would never go to the air raid shelter (granddad tried to get her to leave London and live with relatives in Oxfordshire, but she always refused. One evening a friend convinced gran to go to the shelter. That evening their block was destroyed by a flying bomb. I was about 6 and my dad took me to see the block and I can remember seeing two walls down and all the floors hanging down. My dad had a piano on the top floor and some of the people got his piano down. These days health and safety would not allow anyone anywhere near.

War was declared on 3rd September 1939. We were my mum and myself were evacuated to a village called Tarring Nevill in Sussex on the 6th September. My mum was expecting my sister at the time. My Aunt and my cousins, Winnie (6) and Peter, about 1 month were billeted in the same farm. Winnie had her 6th birthday in the fields with cakes and orange squash. My sister was born in Hove while we were there.

This period was called the phony war, and we were back in London in time for the blitz.

 

Mt grandfather served in Bomber Command in the Pathfinder Squadron as a navigator (he liked maps, which I've inherited from him). Their job was to drop flares on the German targets to guide the Lancasters to them.