[FLYING BANANA]

My fathers father served in the First World War and what he saw had a lasting effect on him. When he returned from the fighting he was a changed man. Gone was the loving caring man, now he was a brute and a bully. He beat my father up so many times that me father ran away and joined up at the age of 16. He lied about his age, said he was 18. My father was sent out to India to serve in the infantry, it was here that after two years his true age was revealed. And he was sent home.

Meanwhile his father had died but my fathers Mother would live onto until 1948.
I never knew her as I was not born till 1949 but she doted on my brother, David was born in 1934.
My father was working for the GPO, BT now, and as he was a telephonist. When he joined up in 1939 he became a wireless operator with the 11th Armoured Division, fondly known as The Black Bull. Father had been seconded from The Royal Signals.
Each member of the tank had to be able to do all the jobs, so father had to be able to fire the gun, give orders and drive. Driving was one thing father struggled with. He never got the hang of it.

But needs must and if push come to shove he could get the tank out of trouble, or into more trouble if you listened to father. The tanks he served in were Cromwells, Churchills and the Ronson, nickname of the Sherman tank. Got the nickname because the would 'light up' after taking a hit. The armour was thin and the shells were stored in open bins on the outside.
The Cromwell weighed in a 28 tons and was powered by a Rolls Royce engine. Could reach 30mph in 5th gear. But it's firepower was it's downfall.

Father told me that if a Cromwell, Churchill or a Sherman was to knock out a Tiger tank they had to get within 500 meters and hit them in there weakest point, the rear. However the Tiger could knock out an allied tank at 2 kilometers.
Father never spoke much about the colleagues that he lost, only say that they had gone to war to fight for our freedom and that would cost lives.

They landed at Juno beach a week after the 6th and that's all I really know. Father would never speak of what he saw. All he would say that he helped to round up the German Paratroopers that were dropped in behind our lines. Most surrendered as they landed, a few put up a fight but were soon killed.
Father did say that as they drove through villages the locals would give the Allied troops food, cider and brandy. In return they gave the ration packs and cigarettes.

Father was de-mobbed in 1946 and went back to work with the GPO. He finally retired in 1965, and he still never learnt to drive. Father passed away on June 6th 1982.

There is a fabulous book out on the 11th Armoured Division by Patrick Delaforce.


My father-in-law fought at Monte Cassino. Again he never spoke of the horrible things that he saw. But he would always tell me this story.

One of the newly promoted officers at Monte Cassino wanted to see where the Germans were going to cross a river. So he took a jeep with my father-in-law as the driver with another soldier who was armed. They drove down to the river bank and as they arrived the Germans opened fire. The jeep was blown up and the officer was killed. My father-in-law and the soldier, who was injured, managed to get back to camp. My father-in-law was put on a charge for losing the jeep. Nothing was said about the officer that had been killed, his body was recovered.