A
Anonymous
Guest
Since we are relating some information on our fathers, I would like to tell my impressions of my father.
My dad was a WWII vet, as many of the peoples' on this forum dads were. He joined up in 1939 and stayed in the war for the whole 6 years. When he came home, he did what many did; settled down, raised a family, got a job, etc.. I was one of those baby boomers, born in 1947 so the war was pretty close and we were reminded of it; not in any overt way but through neighbours getting together,books, films, etc. When I asked my father waht he did in the war, he told me he was a cook in the mess tent. Not a very 'romantic' [please excuse that term but to a young boy, I guess that what it was] aspect of the war and so it was not pursued by me. Heck, he wasn't a 'real soldier', so I had no interest in his war exploits.
However, every once in a while, as I got older, things did just not 'jive' I remember, just before hunting season one year, we went out to the range to sight in our rifles. We did that and we put the guns in the car. My dad then came back to the shooting area, as I was collecting the brass for reloading, and said ' Lets try this". He then proceded to unwrap a sten gun. That was my first, and only, attempt to try to fire a machine gun. When I asked where he got it, he brushed off the question.
Another time, we were going hunting, and he took my boots and laced all around the bottom edge, heavy cord. He told me that it would be quieter when I walked. And to roll my feet; That also would be quiet and he felt that that was very important. I asked how he knew this and he said he was taught in the war.
As I got older, the war receded into the background and life consisted of school, then university, job, family, etc. My dad and I drifted apart through distance and through emotions. We had some terrific rows. they got so bad at times, that when I knew he was coming down to see the grandchildren, I would leave. After many years, my wife [bless her], talked some sense into me and I phoned my father up and went to see him. That was the re-start of my getting to know my father About 8 months after our reconcilliation, he died, very suddenly.
When my sister and I went up to take care of things, we found items that ran contrary to what he told me about his war record. He had a commando knife [a Fairbairn/Sykes], a whole drawer full of medals, and a few other items.
I worked in the hospital at the time, and my job was doing pulmonary functions. When people come in for the test, they are understandably nervous., especially if they had been smokers. One gentleman , in particular, came in and we started to talk. I always found that it helped to relax people if I just got to know them a little. Somehow we got onto hobbies and I said that I collected knives.This fellow said that he, too, collected knives. I told him that I had one he would probably like to see. "What kind?" .. I said the I had a Fairbairn/ Sykes. He stated that he had one too and then asked where I got mine. I told him that it was in my fathers stuff but I had no idea of how it got there since my dad was a cook.. This man asked my fathers name and I told him. It did not ring a bell. I stated that my dad had the name Tex engraved on the knife, since he was born in Beaumiont, Texas. He left when he was two.
This man then said "Tex?.. Tex Rawlins?. Hell he was no cook; he was a commando" He then proceded to tell me of some of the missions that they had gone on together. I tell you, the man described some very difficult situations that they had been in.
It makes me realize, from this distance of many years, why my father told me what he did when I was a lad. And it also helps to explain why he was the way he was when I got older. It opened my eyes to a great many thing about my father.
And I still thank Alice, to this day, for kicking some common sense into me and getting me to start to talk again with him.
I miss you Dad!!
All the best
M
My dad was a WWII vet, as many of the peoples' on this forum dads were. He joined up in 1939 and stayed in the war for the whole 6 years. When he came home, he did what many did; settled down, raised a family, got a job, etc.. I was one of those baby boomers, born in 1947 so the war was pretty close and we were reminded of it; not in any overt way but through neighbours getting together,books, films, etc. When I asked my father waht he did in the war, he told me he was a cook in the mess tent. Not a very 'romantic' [please excuse that term but to a young boy, I guess that what it was] aspect of the war and so it was not pursued by me. Heck, he wasn't a 'real soldier', so I had no interest in his war exploits.
However, every once in a while, as I got older, things did just not 'jive' I remember, just before hunting season one year, we went out to the range to sight in our rifles. We did that and we put the guns in the car. My dad then came back to the shooting area, as I was collecting the brass for reloading, and said ' Lets try this". He then proceded to unwrap a sten gun. That was my first, and only, attempt to try to fire a machine gun. When I asked where he got it, he brushed off the question.
Another time, we were going hunting, and he took my boots and laced all around the bottom edge, heavy cord. He told me that it would be quieter when I walked. And to roll my feet; That also would be quiet and he felt that that was very important. I asked how he knew this and he said he was taught in the war.
As I got older, the war receded into the background and life consisted of school, then university, job, family, etc. My dad and I drifted apart through distance and through emotions. We had some terrific rows. they got so bad at times, that when I knew he was coming down to see the grandchildren, I would leave. After many years, my wife [bless her], talked some sense into me and I phoned my father up and went to see him. That was the re-start of my getting to know my father About 8 months after our reconcilliation, he died, very suddenly.
When my sister and I went up to take care of things, we found items that ran contrary to what he told me about his war record. He had a commando knife [a Fairbairn/Sykes], a whole drawer full of medals, and a few other items.
I worked in the hospital at the time, and my job was doing pulmonary functions. When people come in for the test, they are understandably nervous., especially if they had been smokers. One gentleman , in particular, came in and we started to talk. I always found that it helped to relax people if I just got to know them a little. Somehow we got onto hobbies and I said that I collected knives.This fellow said that he, too, collected knives. I told him that I had one he would probably like to see. "What kind?" .. I said the I had a Fairbairn/ Sykes. He stated that he had one too and then asked where I got mine. I told him that it was in my fathers stuff but I had no idea of how it got there since my dad was a cook.. This man asked my fathers name and I told him. It did not ring a bell. I stated that my dad had the name Tex engraved on the knife, since he was born in Beaumiont, Texas. He left when he was two.
This man then said "Tex?.. Tex Rawlins?. Hell he was no cook; he was a commando" He then proceded to tell me of some of the missions that they had gone on together. I tell you, the man described some very difficult situations that they had been in.
It makes me realize, from this distance of many years, why my father told me what he did when I was a lad. And it also helps to explain why he was the way he was when I got older. It opened my eyes to a great many thing about my father.
And I still thank Alice, to this day, for kicking some common sense into me and getting me to start to talk again with him.
I miss you Dad!!
All the best
M
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