Snapshots from the Second World War
Some of my Grandpa's pictures from the early 1940s
At some previous anniversary of VE Day, probably the 75th, I put together a set of photos and shared them on Twitter in case they were of interest. This week’s 80th anniversary prompted me to share some again, possibly the same ones but as I’ve deleted my Twitter/X account I’m not sure. I could dwell on the depressing thought that collectively we seem to have forgotten the lessons of World War 2, and that it’s not much good remembering the date if we forget all that was behind it, but instead I’ll assume you can figure all that out for yourself, and move on to the pictures. If it’s too long for your email, you might have to view this one on the webpage.
I never met my maternal grandfather — he died in 1969 — but as far as I know he was a conscript in the Second World War (unlike my Grandad Saville who joined the Royal Marines of his own free will in the 1930s). Also as far as I know, his wartime travels to Greece and North Africa were the only time he went outside the UK. He had been an enthusiastic Boy Scout in the early 1930s and it’s possible that he approached the war with a spirit of adventure, and enjoyed the camaraderie.
Certainly he had the foresight to take a camera with him. There’s an entire photo album of snaps from the war. Quite a few group shots. Who thought to shout, ‘hang on lads, let’s all huddle in for a photo before we move on’, and how many of them didn’t make it home?
They were Royal Corps of Signals, so as I understand it they set up communications and could often be the first to arrive. Grandpa was an electrician which makes some kind of sense, but his mate Norman was a butcher1 from a long line of butchers and livestock farmers so he would have had a steep learning curve.
He met Norman during training, I think, but they then kept getting posted to different places and rarely crossed paths. Despite Norman being from Oxford and Grandpa from West Yorkshire, they remained friends and saw each other often after the war. In fact Norman became such a part of our family that when he was widowed in 1989 he came to live with us, before buying a bungalow opposite the house Big Brother and Sisters Number One and Two still live in. I used to think Norman was the dullest man in the world, but Big Brother tells me he was at Monte Cassino, so with hindsight I can understand his desire for a complete absence of excitement and drama. The right to a quiet and uneventful life was, I suppose, part of what he was fighting for. He died in 1996.
A fair chunk of the photo album consists of bridges. Maybe Grandpa really liked bridges.
I can’t help but wonder if they were strategic targets though, or defensive problems, or logistical nightmares. But this raises several questions. Where and how was he getting these photos developed in the field, if they were urgent tactical necessities? How come he took them home with him and stuck them in an album, if they were taken for the army? And if they weren’t, does that mean he had to keep them safe, take them home on leave with him and nip into Boots to get them developed months later?
“Bridges again, Eddie?” I imagine the assistant saying as he handed over his roll of film.
“Not just bridges this time, I took one of a tower.”
Some of them are out and out tourist snaps and I love them, even though I have no idea where most of them are.
I find it hard to imagine him wandering with his camera, seeing the sights while in the middle of fighting a war. But I also find it hard to imagine him being invited to a Bedouin wedding, and yet apparently he was. Nobody has ever told me how this came about; maybe he never said.
There are loads more photos I could share, but I hope some of you have found some of these interesting. I’ll leave you with one more of some of the lads we’re remembering to be thankful for this week:
But do try not to forget what they were fighting for.
He became a bus driver after the war