This audio is recorded from a chat between Shushann and Jilly in 2022. Priceless stuff!
Showing posts with label audio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label audio. Show all posts
29 November 2024
22 November 2017
Ratanakiri
Situated in the north east corner of Cambodia, this region is famous for its natural beauty. I spent 4 nights here. The highlight was a stunningly gorgeous crater lake and getting to see wild gibbons.
Local waterfalls
Boeng Yeak Lom
This is a beautiful emerald-hued crater lake set amid the vivid greens of the towering jungle. It was most peaceful and beautiful place I visited on my whole trip. The water is the perfect temperature for swimming and so clear. I spent half a day here lazing and swimming and becoming friends with 3 lovely German backpackers.
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| Image taken from the internet. Such a beautiful place. |
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| Hans was a master with this device which I had never seen before. He's planning to teach the local kids how to use it when he does volunteer teaching. A wonderful, friendly guy. |
Getting to know the locals
I spent 2 fantastic days with Sok (Mr Free), my local guide. He drove me around on his motorbike and his English was good so we got to know each other very well. Such a beautiful guy and devoted Buddhist, so very interesting to hear about aspects of the religion. This was probably my closest connection on the whole trip.
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| Sok (aka Mr Free ) |
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| Sok introduced me to some of this friends. They were very friendly, but didn't speak much English except for the expression "I'm single and available!" If I ever need a wife, this is the place to come !! |
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| Sok paying respects at the local temple, up on a hill. |
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| The beautiful sunset from the hill |
Gibbons
After crossing the river on a rickety ferry and a wonderfully hair-raising motorbike trip into the jungle through swamps and rivers, and over narrow bridges, I arrived at the jungle camp. Here I met up with 2 friendly female zoologists from Australia who are studying the gibbons.
I chilled out at the camp, drenched in mosquito repellant and the next day, after waking at 4.30 am, we hiked deep into the jungle to where the gibbons live. It was hard to get good photos as they stayed high up in the canopy but they did their wondrous territory calls which sent goosebumps down my spine.
It was fascinating to watch the zoologists work. Every second of their sightings are recorded in a notebook including exactly what the gibbons are doing and eating down to the very last detail. This is then fed into a computer later. I loved the morning but don't think I could do this everyday for 6 months. I've always kind of regretted giving up my Zoology degree after a year so this was actually a wonderful realisation !
It was an absolutely unforgettable experience and I'm so glad I did it.
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| How is this for a car ferry !! |
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| Trekking deep into the jungle. |
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| Male Yellow Cheeked Gibbon (source: Internet) |
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| Female Yellow Cheeked Gibbon (Source: Internet) |
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| My photos of the male. |
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| My photos of the female |
Listen below to their amazing calls which I recorded with my phone. Amazing !!!
8 September 2007
Grandpa's War Stories
Here are some stories that Gramps recorded for us on a tape at our bequest, many years ago. Enjoy.
To stomach the first tape of my stories, I must remind you that you’ve got to blame Graeme and Allie for their request that I record the various stories that I’ve told them and my reminiscences over the years. This is really all about the army.
I was commissioned in November 1939, in other words six weeks after the War started I found myself a Second Lieutenant, and I was sent up to Coventry to join a company, the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, which was stationed in Coventry. And there I was, age 20, a Second Lieutenant, with six weeks instruction as a Cadet and virtually nothing else. No idea of men control or man management or anything.
And I can remember it was Christmas 1939, just a few weeks really after the War had started, and I was Duty Officer on Christmas Eve, and it was my duty as a young Second Lieutenant to go up with the Orderly Sergeant and the Orderly Corporal to inspect the billets and see that all the men were in bed and asleep. Now the War had just started, virtually it was peace time to all civilians and our men were, at this stage, billeted in empty private houses.
So I walked with my Orderly Sergeant and my Orderly Corporal up the road on Christmas Eve with a view to seeing that everyone was asleep and that everything was in order, and there on the other side of the road going towards the village were two of my men carrying virtually a drunken Irish soldier, one of mine, who was absolutely paralytic with drink. So I said to my Corporal “Go over,” it’s Christmas, you see, so I said to him “Go over and tell them that the Orderly Officer is over the road, get this chap into bed quickly and nothing will be said because it’s Christmas Eve”. So we dawdled and we went to the other two houses before we went to the billet where we knew this Irish was, and we went in hoping to find that they’d got him to bed. But no, he was standing there fighting drunk, threatening to knock anybody’s block off who came near him. And in we came, myself, the Orderly Sergeant and the Orderly Corporal, and all the men of course were sitting bolt upright, this was better than a pantomime. So without any nonsense - and you must remember I’d been commissioned for six weeks from being a bank clerk - so I was there in my officer’s uniform, and so I said “Feeney,” this man was Private Feeney, I said “Feeney, get yourself into bed now and if you’re in bed in two minutes nothing will be said, otherwise you’re going down to the guardroom and you’ll be charged tomorrow”. Now he was really very, very drunk and he came up and he staggered up and he stood about two feet away from me and he said “You… you… you’re the son of a fuckin’ whore”. Now here was I, 20 years old, six weeks commissioned and in front of all the men, who were of course sitting up watching this, in front of men who, in my ignorance as we were all ignorant at that time, for all I knew in a month’s time, these men who were my platoon, would be going in to battle with me and had to have my respect and had to have respect for me and obey my command. And here was this drunken lout calling me the son of a fuckin’ whore in front of them, and when I think back to it, I just lost all control and I hit him, with my clenched fist I punched him straight between the eyes and he fell down poleaxed on the floor.
Now there was nothing said from this, I was bigger than he was, he was drunk as a lord, and not saying this was a big brave thing to do, but it was a bloody stupid thing to do because here was an officer who’d struck a man, six weeks commissioned. So I said to the Orderly Corporal and Sergeant “All right, pick him up, take him down the road to the guardroom and lock him up for the night and we’ll see him in the morning” and that was that, because I realised in my simplicity that for all I knew, and here we were six weeks into the War, nobody knew anything and I might have to be commanding these men in battle and I couldn’t really have them thinking that I could stand and let a man say that to me, in front of them, so that was the thing. However wrong it was, that’s why I did it.
So anyway, they carted him off down the road and he went into the guardroom and they locked him up, and the next morning I woke up and I thought “Oh God, now I’m in real, real trouble”. Here I am, six weeks commissioned and I’m probably now going to be court martialled and stripped of my rank for having punched a soldier. But six weeks into the War it was all very amateurish because we were a territorial battalion that I’d joined and in the night this Private Feeney had sobered up and escaped from the guardroom and was never seen again, nobody ever saw him, in the whole of my life he was never, whether he escaped to a southern island or not, I don’t know. But anyway, he was never seen and that was the end of it. But I did really think at that time that I had probably jeopardised my entire commission because of that man.
Talking of Ireland reminds me of the time when I was in Londonderry in Northern Ireland about, ooh I suppose, nine or ten months into the War and every Saturday night there was an officers dance, there was a dance in the main hotel which was frequented by the officers and at that time all the men in Ireland, of course, had gone off to War and in fact in Londonderry there was seven women to every one man and so all the mothers of the solicitors and the doctors and all the fairly presentable sort of ladies, all their daughters were brought to these dances in the hope that they would catch on to a British officer, that’s what we called the “fishing fleet”.
Anyway, I went to this dance one night, one Saturday night, and it so happened that I was on duty the next morning as Orderly Officer, so I wasn’t going to be late to bed. So anyway, I danced and I was dancing with a very attractive girl, I danced with her several times, and I had what turned out to be the last dance with her, and when the dance ended we stopped in the middle of the floor and I said to her “Well I’m very sorry, but I’m going to take you back to your table and then I’ve got to go back because I’m going off to kip”, K-I-P, kip. Now as a little boy, my father always said to me “Come on lad, time for kip, time for bed” and that was part of my vocabulary as I’d learnt as a child, come off to kip, kip time, kip time, and so unthinkingly I said to this girl, in the middle of the dance floor “I have to take you to your table and leave you because I’m off to kip”, whereupon in front of everybody she smacked me across the face with the biggest clout I’ve ever had from a woman in my life and stormed off, and it was only afterwards that I realised that in Ireland the expression “kip” referred to a brothel. And it appeared I’d said to this pretty little girl in the middle of the floor “Well I’m leaving you now, I’m off to a brother”, but of course it didn’t go down terribly well.
While I was in Ireland, I was sent on a Company Commanders Course. I was only a Second Lieutenant but I was sent on what they called a Company Commanders Course, and on this course we did what they call a TEWT, that is a Training Exercise Without Troops. In other words we, the students, all Second Lieutenants and full Lieutenants, went out with the Major who was our instructor and we walked a battle, in other words we walked along and our instructor would suddenly say “Right, now we stop here, this is the position” and he would say that the enemy were here and the enemy were here and we had to do this and that. So anyway, that was the sort of thing and then we would give answers as to what we should do and we were either right or wrong, and we were corrected, well of course this becomes a bit tedious after a while. But anyway we went on, and then we got to one stage where he said “Right gentlemen,” and he looked at the 28 of us and said “Right gentlemen, now then, this is the village that you have attacked and you have captured it and the enemy have fled. Now then, this village, you’ve fought your way up here, now what are you going to do in the next half an hour?”. Now I knew very well that the logical answer was, here we were, this is all in the countryside you see, I realised that the answer was that you mount sentries, or lookouts, at all the vulnerable points where the enemy might counterattack and you would place your Bren guns and machine guns in places to defend the position you’ve just captured, that was what he wanted us to say. But with this rather stupid sense of humour of mine, and thinking that we might brighten things up a bit, he turned to me and said “Right, Sorrel, what are you going to do in the next half hour?” and so I said, very facetiously “Loot the houses and rape the women, sir”. That was supposed to be terribly funny and that was supposed to get a big laugh, but this man nearly had a coronary, he went absolutely puce. So anyway when we got back at the end of the exercise, I was sent for by the Colonel in charge of the course and I was brought in and reprimanded and told that he’d never heard anything like it in his life and what did I mean? So I said what could I have meant? I said in all sincerity “It was a silly, stupid remark, a facetious remark which I now realise was probably not the right time to say it. But it’s just that, a silly, stupid remark made for a bit of a laugh”. “Well,” he said “I’ve given serious thought, I may send you back to your unit as unfit to be an officer, but I’ll give you one more chance”. And so nothing was said, but I may say that when I got back, it was reflected in the report they made and when I got back my Colonel gave me hell and I tried to explain to him, but he didn’t think much of it either.
One of the most ridiculous things that ever happened, twice in my life I was made Baggage Officer, twice in my life and each time it had some extraordinary results. The first time we were going from Scotland to Ireland and my Commanding Officer said “All right, Tony, I’m leaving you with 40 men and you will bring the battalion’s baggage over, you’re in charge of the baggage party”. So we get to the docks and there it is, it was only a shortish journey you see, and this small little steamship thing was docked alongside, and there on side on the quay were two enormous piles of baggage. My battalion’s and another battalion who were also going with us to the same place, the Worcestershire Regiment, mine was the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. So we were there first, so I started with my men to get the stuff on, but of course the great thing to do was, we mustn’t get the stuff mixed up. So I went down into the hold of the ship where the baggage was going, and draw a chalk line right down the centre and I said to my chaps “Now we’ll load all of our stuff on, but keep it all to that side of the white line, so when the Worsters come, when their baggage party arrives, they can load theirs on the other side, and then there’ll be no mix up, because it would be hell’s bells to play if we get the stuff mixed up”. So this happened, and we very nearly got all our stuff on and I was on the quay, not on the ship, I was off the ship at the moment and I was on the quay and I was walking down the quay and coming towards me were two naval officers running, obviously very agitated and they stopped when they reached me and one was a Captain of the ship that we were loading and the other was his First Lieutenant. So the Captain said “Who the hell’s in charge here?”. So I said “I am, sir, Lieutenant Sorrel, Royal Warwickshire Regiment, loading our baggage”. He said “Jesus Christ, man! What are you doing?”. I said “I’ve just told you, sir, we’re loading our baggage and the Worsters are going to load theirs and we’re going across”. He said “Look at my bloody ship, for Christ’s sake, man!”. And I looked and there was his ship leaning over to starboard with one edge very nearly underwater. What I’d done was put all this heavy baggage on one side and none on the other and the ship had a list so much that at any moment it looked as if it could topple over. And so that was my first experience of being a Baggage Officer.
Now the second one was really much more dramatic. This was when I was Baggage Officer when the battalion went from Africa to Italy, and we arrived in Naples Harbour in a horrible little China Sea’s merchantman which took the battalion over, it was being used as a troop ship, took the battalion over, and my men, I had about 40 men again as a baggage party, and all their rifles were in the armoury on board the ship. When we arrived at Naples, to our horror, we were advised that there was a cholera epidemic and none of the ship’s crew could go ashore, they had to remain on board. We, of course, the battalion was already there and we with the baggage, we had to go and join the battalion. So we started unloading the stuff, but the ship’s crew - very angry and the lowest form of animal life, of human life, I’ve ever met in my life, they really were the dregs of humanity, a terrible crowd - they had, unknown to me, raided the officers’ mess drinks supplies and were all fighting drunk on board ship. Anyway, we got all the baggage off and all that remained was for my men to go up the one gangplank, there was just one gangplank, from the ship to the quay, they had to go up there single file of course because it was a narrow thing, get their rifles and come back. So I said to my Sergeant “Right, get the men up and get their rifles”. At that moment, there appeared at the top of the gangplank on the ship one of the crew clad in old grey flannels and a white T shirt, who stood at the top of the gangplank with a 12 inch butcher’s knife and he said, as the first soldier went to go up, he said “I’ll kill anybody who comes up here”. So obviously the soldier went back down the gangplank and they stood there wondering what to do. And he just stood there waving this 12 inch butcher’s knife about and saying that he would slash anybody who came up the gangplank. So I called the men back and again, in my simplicity and my naivety, although this was well on in the War, but I assume that when this man saw an officer he would respond. All I’ve got was a swagger cane, you know a little short stick, I hadn’t got a weapon at all, and so I said “Right, keep the men back, Sergeant, I’ll go”. So I get halfway up the gangplank and I’m calling to this man “Now come along, stand aside, now come on, I’m an officer and I’m telling you just get away, get away from me, I want my men to come up and get the things”, and he waved this knife at me and then he did something which I will never forget to my dying day. With this 12 inch butcher’s knife, holding it in his right hand as if it were a razor, he went as if to shave himself with it but he was so drunk and so off his rocker that instead of shaving himself, he was slicing pieces of skin off his face and pieces of skin were hanging down and in a matter of seconds, the whole of his T shirt was covered in blood, his own blood. And so I stopped halfway up the gangplank thinking, well if this silly bugger is going to do that to himself, he won’t hesitate to stick me, officer or not. So I came down, very smartly came down, and stood there and I thought, now what the hell are we going to do? Because this man stood there, covered in blood, blood pouring off his face, and he stood there with this blood-stained knife threatening to kill anyone who came up. Now when my battalion had got off this ship, some Scots Guards had got on and they’d been abroad for about three years and they were really weather-beaten soldiers well versed in war, and at this precise moment a Corporal of the Guards was marching two of his men along to mount sentry on the top of this gangplank. Now that they were on board, the Scots Guard were, as it were, responsible for the ship, and so they were mounting a sentry and so there he was marching out. So I called out to him “Corporal, sir” and these men halted. I said “There’s a mad, drunken bastard there with a 12 inch knife, covered in blood, who won’t let my men get up to get their rifles, will you see to it?”. “Sergeant!” was all he said, and he turned around and he muttered something to these two men, one of whom went straight ahead towards the man on the route that they were going on, and the other one went around the other side of the ship and came around and would have approached the man from the back. So anyway, when this drunken man heard these soldiers approaching he turned and he waved the knife at them, and the soldier approaching him and got his rifle there and he held it at what we call high port, right hand and left hand across his front, and he held it there and this man said “I’ll kill ya! I’ll kill ya if you move an inch, if you move an inch I’ll kill ya”. At that moment, the other guardsman who’d come around the other side of the ship came behind him, also with his rifle at the high port. So suddenly this drunken man heard the soldier behind him and turned around, at which time the soldier behind him brought the butt of his rifle around, straight onto this man’s jaw which must nearly have knocked his head off and he fell down poleaxed on the ground. And then something happened which I will never forget the sight of. Never, ever forget. Just behind, on the deck, was the open space where the cargo had been brought up and the top had been taken off, so there was this space with a 30 foot drop down to the hold of the ship, and without a single moment’s hesitation these two guardsmen put their rifles down, one picked up this man’s two arms, the other picked up his two legs and they lifted him and dropped him 30 feet down to hold, to the bottom, and the Corporal looked over and he said “All clear now, sir, get your rifles” and we went up and got our rifles. And that was, to me, one of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever seen in my life.
On a lighter hearted note, another thing I will never forget. We had in our company a Private Biggerstaff. Now Private Biggerstaff was, I suppose, you can only refer to as a country bumpkin. He was a lovely, simple country lad as thick as two planks who was absolutely lost in the army really and didn’t know his right from his left. But if you put him on stage, people would say he was being overacted because you couldn’t be that. But anyway, Private Biggerstaff, just before I went on embarkation leave, we were in Exeter Bypass capital, and there we had, in the camp they had erected here and there urinals. Now anyone who’s been to France will know that in France they have urinals in public places which consist of poles and boarding around so that when you want to go and spend a penny, a man of course, you go in and the top of your head can be seen and from the knees down you can be seen, but the operative bits that are performing can’t be seen, and this is what a French urinal is like. Now we had this at the camp at Exeter, but it was just Hessian, wooden poles with Hessian, and of course the thing was you could go in, you could be seen from the head and shoulders up, and from the knees down, but nothing else. Well, I was walking with my Colonel along the path and Private Biggerstaff was in the urinal, which was just to one side of the path we were walking along. Now one thing Private Biggerstaff knew was, if you see an officer you salute. If you see the Colonel, there is nothing in the world will stop you saluting. So there was Private Biggerstaff, spending his penny, with his John Thomas in his right hand, and along came the Colonel with me and immediately - I have never seen anything like it - Private Biggerstaff transferred his John Thomas from his right hand to his left and saluted over the top of the Hessian and I don’t think my Colonel will ever forget the sight in the whole of his life.
I had one experience which I suppose was one of the funniest that I can remember. We were in Ireland and it was very, very muddy and wet and rainy, and the roads were absolutely, everything was saturated, there was mud in all the fields and it was terrible. And one day, there appeared a notice on battalion orders that I, among other officers, was to be an umpire in an exercise between the battalions - this was training not war-time, it was war-time but we were in Ireland - and so I went to the adjutant and very smartly saluted and said “I’m sorry sir, but you see it says in the orders that I’m to draw a motorcycle to act as umpire and I’ve never ridden a motorcycle”. So he said “Well it’s Thursday today, Tony, the exercise is on Monday, you will go and see the Motor Transport Officer and you will ask him to give you someone to instruct you how to road a motorcycle over the weekend, so that you’ll be fit for duty on Monday”. So for Saturday and Sunday, I went around, funnily enough, the battalion had had some new motorcycles delivered and they had to be broken in at 30mph, and so it suited the Transport Officer very much for me to ride one at 30mph and learn how to do it and help break it in. So I did this over the weekend. Anyway, on the Monday I went off to do my umpiring duty, and an umpire is where the different battalions are theoretically fighting each other and you and go and explain the situation and so on. Anyway, at one stage I had to report to the chief umpires centre which was, in fact, a farm hut down the muddiest lane I’ve ever seen in my life, about 12 inches of solid, sludgy mud. So I slithered down this thing, because I was still not experienced on this motorcycle, so I slithered down this thing and came to a halt, and it was pouring with rain at the time, and I slithered to a halt and stalled the engine and got off the motorbike, propped it up, and went in to report to the Chief Umpire, that’s what my instructions were. To my incredulity, in the hut, in addition to the umpire, was the Divisional Commander. Now the Divisional Commander was Major General Carton de Wiart VC DSO MC and Bar - who had, believe it or not, only one eye, the other was a black patch and one arm, and his sleeve was tucked into his pocket. He was incredible character, very famous in the army - and he stood there in the most immaculate outfit you’ve ever seen, including polished riding boots which came up to the knee, the boots came up to the knee and they were burnished brilliantly, he looked like something out of an advert. So I saluted and made my report to the umpire and asked what my instructions were, which he gave me you see, and I saluted smartly again and was about to turn around and go out, when the General said - because you have to announce yourself by name, you go in and you say “Lieutenant Sorrel, Royal Warwickshire Regiment, di-dah, di-dah, dozy” - so the General said “Sorrel, if you’re going up to the road, you can give me a lift on your motorbike, because my car’s up there, couldn’t get down that lane and I’m not going to walk up there in all that sludge, so give me a lift on the pillion”. Now I’m not a brave man and I was so terrified I did not know what to do, but I’d not got the courage to say “No I won’t” to the General. I hadn’t the courage just to say “Oh oh oh yes, sir”. So I’m standing there petrified in front - I was about 21 at the time - petrified in front of this man who was sort of a god to everyone else. So I said “Yes sir”. So he puts his Mac on and he comes out and I tried to get this bloody thing started, which of course was not easy, and he was getting a bit testy. Anyway eventually it burst into life and he sat on the back and somehow, somehow, I will never know how, I slithered and slid up this lane to the top and deposited him at the top, and he said to me “My God, the way you drove that damn thing, anyone would think you’d never ridden a motorcycle before”. So I said “Well in actual fact, sir, I only learnt to ride it yesterday”. And his face fell, and I think for one of the bravest men in the world, it was the first time he’d ever been absolutely terrified when he realised what he’d just gone through.
When I was stationed in Londonderry in Northern Ireland, one day I was Duty Officer and I was called out of bed and told to report down to the edge of the lock, the river that runs through Londonderry, and there was a lot of agitation there and there was a naval officer in charge of his launch, which was only sort of a fairly sizeable sort of launch like a small yacht thing, and up the river about two miles there was a lock and they said to me “A seaplane has landed in the lock and we don’t know whether it’s ours or German or what it is, whether it’s enemy or not, you must go up and investigate”. And so I said “Suppose they fire at me? If they’re enemy, what do I do?”. So he said “Oh no, you’ve got a Bren gun” - now a Bren gun is the minimal sort of machine gun that you can possible imagine - they said “We’re giving you two men and a Bren, which we will mount in the front of your launch and when you go up, your men must keep that trained on the flying boat until we find out what it is”. So we chug up in this thing and then we come around the bend and I can see facing us, propellers on, a four-engine flying boat and all I could see were the four engines and the wings sticking out, couldn’t see any markings of course because it was facing me. I was now very excited, you see, and so I said to the men - normally the men fire the gun and I give him charge - and I said “No, I’ll get on the gun”. So I lay down with the Bren gun with my finger on the trigger and I said to the chap steering the launch “Go around to the side and approach it from the side, so that we can see the markings and see what it is, if we can identify it” because all we could see were these four propellers and the wings. So this fellow steers out to the left, as it were, in the lock and then we turned to approach the flying boat sideways on, and of course we see the British markings. Now all this time while we were doing that, I was in the front of this vessel, this little launch, with my Bren gun pointed directly at the sort of cockpit thing of this flying boat where I could see a head, obviously one of the pilots or something, and so I thought, well if anything happens I’ll fire at that and either hit him or do something, and quite sort of terrified as to what was going to happen. But anyway, once we saw that it was a British flying boat, I got off the gun and we waved and called out “Hello! Hello there! What are you chaps doing?”. These people had had some sort of trouble with the engine, or something or another, and had landed here. Now they had not got the slightest idea where they were, and when eventually I clambered aboard this thing to speak to the senior officer on board the flying boat, I said “Well I received instructions, they didn’t know who the hell you were or what you were and I was sent along”, and I said “But I’ve got to tell you,” and laughingly I said this to the man “I’ve had my Bren gun trained on your head in that cockpit ever since we came into sight” and he said “Well, we didn’t know where we were and who you were and we’ve had two cannon and four machine guns trained at you all the time you’ve been coming up”. So anyway that was the end, but that was one of my more exciting moments in Northern Ireland.
If I may tell a rather more naughty story of my experiences in the War, I went on a boat called the Johan Van Olden Barneveldt, a troop ship to North Africa from England, and we landed in Algiers and we were sent to a holding camp just a few miles away, Philipville, a place called Philipville, and a gang of about ten young officers including me went one day into Algiers and we were going to visit a brothel to see the exhibition. Now you must understand that, I don’t know about the rest of them, but I was really so innocent it was untrue. I was about 23 and I’d been married for about a year-and-a-half or two years or something, but that was the limit of my sexual experience, but we decided that we couldn’t go to Algiers without seeing a brothel. So we went to the brothel where there was this demonstration by ladies and the whole idea was, of course, to excite us to such an extent that we couldn’t help but rush upstairs with one of them each when it was all over. But in fact, it so put us off that I think, far from that, it ruined any thoughts of sex for the next six months. But there was this one incredible thing, included among us, we picked up some other young officers who were going in at the time, there was a young Guards Officer and the big trick, which was really supposed to excite us but it didn’t really, was that one of these girls had such control of her sexual parts that she could pick up a coin if you put it on the edge of a table, she could, with her private parts, pick it up and walk across the room and put it down on another table and this was supposed to get shrieks of applause from everybody, it was quite incredible you see. Well, we all clapped dutifully you see and everyone was all “Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!”, but unknowns to us, this young Guards Officer, he got a sort of a big metal coin, five Francs or something, and he did it with his lighter, he made it hot with his lighter, and he put it on the edge of a table and said “Do that one”. So she was only too willing to oblige, so she came and she went to pick this thing up and let out a shriek that will be heard 20 miles away, and we just managed to get away without being severely damaged, I hate to think what would have happened if they’d caught, but we all just bolted at that, that was enough.
I had one really incredible experience. I was commanding a company - just after I was blown up and I was downgraded to Category B for a while until I was better - and I was commanding a company about 20 miles behind the line of reinforcements, where people from hospital and people from England came, and I sent them up the line. Anyway to keep them occupied during the day, we used to give them training and firing different weapons and doing this, that and the other, and I had a young officer with me, a very charming young boy, very young, even younger than me, and on our off-duty times we used to go down to the beach and swim, and on this beach - this young chap used to come with about five or six of us used to go - and while we were down there and on those occasions that we did go down, there was an extremely pretty Algerian girl, or French girl, very pretty little girl with her parents - she may have been Tunisian, I don’t know - but they were always there - they must have been French because she spoken French, that’s right - anyway she used to go in the water with her girlfriends or relatives or whatever, and she used to throw a ball to each other and she used to say “à moi, à moi” meaning “to me, to me” for the ball, and so he couldn’t take his eyes off this girl, this fellow, he really fell hook, line and sinker for this girl and we nicknamed her “à moi” and wherever we went we used to say “Look, à moi has come with her large entourage of arms” and all sorts of things, because these people all protect their pretty young women. So anyway during the course of training, one day we had a terrible accident and one of the soldiers put a mortar bomb in training in the wrong way, instead of dropping it in, he dropped the front in first and it exploded in the mortar and it killed one man and it wounded this young officer very badly, in fact it very nearly castrated him, but his wounds were in that part of his body, and he was taken to hospital. The thing was that when we went to see him, he was really very seriously ill and he was quite delirious and he kept saying, as far as we could make out, he wanted to see à moi. Now here was a wounded young British officer lying in hospital asking his friends to bring to him a pretty young girl, who none of us had ever spoken to, but who’ve played ball in the sea with her relatives who we’d seen. Anyway, he was in such a state and he was such a nice chap that we went down the next day to the beach and there she was, and I went up and in my terrible schoolboy French, I tried to explain to a very suspicious looking mama or grandmamma that we had a young officer, who they may have noticed us watching them in the past sitting near them, that this young officer was very ill, had been wounded and was in hospital and he desperately wanted to see this little girl, and was it in any way possible, if we provided the transport, that they would allow her to come, escorted by us to look after her and protect her, to go to see him in hospital, because he was really desperately wounded. And, ooh my word, there was all sorts of discussions and hubbubs and grannies and aunties and friends. Anyway eventually, believe it or not, they agreed, and we brought a truck down and we took à moi and about five of her aunts, or mothers or grannies or whatever they were, we took her to the hospital and she actually did go in and see him, and there he lay in there with his wounded middle, and he saw à moi, which I thought was one of the most beautiful little sentimental things, but my word it took some persuasions to get those ladies to come to bring her to the hospital.
My last story that I’m going to tell you is when I was coming home, returning home to England, after over three years abroad, and we were held up over in France because of bad weather and we stayed at a camp there where there was a lot of liquor available for purchase. And so we all bought a bottle of this or a bottle of that to take home for someone, but we had a young Scotsman there who bought so much stuff you’ve never seen, and his whole bag was filled with bottles, and he himself was drinking like a fish and getting more drunk and more drunk. Anyway, we went over on the ferry and eventually we arrived to go through customs, and this chap was really drunk, we were literally having to hold him up, and he was carrying his bag and we were holding him up. And we get to the customs and the customs man said “Have you got anything to declare, sir?” and so this fellow turned and said “My whole bag is filled with booze, nothing else but booze”. So the customs officer roared with laughter and put the squiggle on the thing and said “Right, so you go through”. I came through with one bottle of whisky for my dad and one bottle of whisky for my father-in-law and they made me pay duty. That is something I will never forgive the customs people for.
There we are, that’s the end of my stories and I hope that some of them have been interesting and if you’re fed up with them you must blame my grandson, Graeme, because he’s the one who made me do it.
Audio files
To stomach the first tape of my stories, I must remind you that you’ve got to blame Graeme and Allie for their request that I record the various stories that I’ve told them and my reminiscences over the years. This is really all about the army.
I was commissioned in November 1939, in other words six weeks after the War started I found myself a Second Lieutenant, and I was sent up to Coventry to join a company, the Royal Warwickshire Regiment, which was stationed in Coventry. And there I was, age 20, a Second Lieutenant, with six weeks instruction as a Cadet and virtually nothing else. No idea of men control or man management or anything.
And I can remember it was Christmas 1939, just a few weeks really after the War had started, and I was Duty Officer on Christmas Eve, and it was my duty as a young Second Lieutenant to go up with the Orderly Sergeant and the Orderly Corporal to inspect the billets and see that all the men were in bed and asleep. Now the War had just started, virtually it was peace time to all civilians and our men were, at this stage, billeted in empty private houses.
So I walked with my Orderly Sergeant and my Orderly Corporal up the road on Christmas Eve with a view to seeing that everyone was asleep and that everything was in order, and there on the other side of the road going towards the village were two of my men carrying virtually a drunken Irish soldier, one of mine, who was absolutely paralytic with drink. So I said to my Corporal “Go over,” it’s Christmas, you see, so I said to him “Go over and tell them that the Orderly Officer is over the road, get this chap into bed quickly and nothing will be said because it’s Christmas Eve”. So we dawdled and we went to the other two houses before we went to the billet where we knew this Irish was, and we went in hoping to find that they’d got him to bed. But no, he was standing there fighting drunk, threatening to knock anybody’s block off who came near him. And in we came, myself, the Orderly Sergeant and the Orderly Corporal, and all the men of course were sitting bolt upright, this was better than a pantomime. So without any nonsense - and you must remember I’d been commissioned for six weeks from being a bank clerk - so I was there in my officer’s uniform, and so I said “Feeney,” this man was Private Feeney, I said “Feeney, get yourself into bed now and if you’re in bed in two minutes nothing will be said, otherwise you’re going down to the guardroom and you’ll be charged tomorrow”. Now he was really very, very drunk and he came up and he staggered up and he stood about two feet away from me and he said “You… you… you’re the son of a fuckin’ whore”. Now here was I, 20 years old, six weeks commissioned and in front of all the men, who were of course sitting up watching this, in front of men who, in my ignorance as we were all ignorant at that time, for all I knew in a month’s time, these men who were my platoon, would be going in to battle with me and had to have my respect and had to have respect for me and obey my command. And here was this drunken lout calling me the son of a fuckin’ whore in front of them, and when I think back to it, I just lost all control and I hit him, with my clenched fist I punched him straight between the eyes and he fell down poleaxed on the floor.
Now there was nothing said from this, I was bigger than he was, he was drunk as a lord, and not saying this was a big brave thing to do, but it was a bloody stupid thing to do because here was an officer who’d struck a man, six weeks commissioned. So I said to the Orderly Corporal and Sergeant “All right, pick him up, take him down the road to the guardroom and lock him up for the night and we’ll see him in the morning” and that was that, because I realised in my simplicity that for all I knew, and here we were six weeks into the War, nobody knew anything and I might have to be commanding these men in battle and I couldn’t really have them thinking that I could stand and let a man say that to me, in front of them, so that was the thing. However wrong it was, that’s why I did it.
So anyway, they carted him off down the road and he went into the guardroom and they locked him up, and the next morning I woke up and I thought “Oh God, now I’m in real, real trouble”. Here I am, six weeks commissioned and I’m probably now going to be court martialled and stripped of my rank for having punched a soldier. But six weeks into the War it was all very amateurish because we were a territorial battalion that I’d joined and in the night this Private Feeney had sobered up and escaped from the guardroom and was never seen again, nobody ever saw him, in the whole of my life he was never, whether he escaped to a southern island or not, I don’t know. But anyway, he was never seen and that was the end of it. But I did really think at that time that I had probably jeopardised my entire commission because of that man.
Talking of Ireland reminds me of the time when I was in Londonderry in Northern Ireland about, ooh I suppose, nine or ten months into the War and every Saturday night there was an officers dance, there was a dance in the main hotel which was frequented by the officers and at that time all the men in Ireland, of course, had gone off to War and in fact in Londonderry there was seven women to every one man and so all the mothers of the solicitors and the doctors and all the fairly presentable sort of ladies, all their daughters were brought to these dances in the hope that they would catch on to a British officer, that’s what we called the “fishing fleet”.
Anyway, I went to this dance one night, one Saturday night, and it so happened that I was on duty the next morning as Orderly Officer, so I wasn’t going to be late to bed. So anyway, I danced and I was dancing with a very attractive girl, I danced with her several times, and I had what turned out to be the last dance with her, and when the dance ended we stopped in the middle of the floor and I said to her “Well I’m very sorry, but I’m going to take you back to your table and then I’ve got to go back because I’m going off to kip”, K-I-P, kip. Now as a little boy, my father always said to me “Come on lad, time for kip, time for bed” and that was part of my vocabulary as I’d learnt as a child, come off to kip, kip time, kip time, and so unthinkingly I said to this girl, in the middle of the dance floor “I have to take you to your table and leave you because I’m off to kip”, whereupon in front of everybody she smacked me across the face with the biggest clout I’ve ever had from a woman in my life and stormed off, and it was only afterwards that I realised that in Ireland the expression “kip” referred to a brothel. And it appeared I’d said to this pretty little girl in the middle of the floor “Well I’m leaving you now, I’m off to a brother”, but of course it didn’t go down terribly well.
While I was in Ireland, I was sent on a Company Commanders Course. I was only a Second Lieutenant but I was sent on what they called a Company Commanders Course, and on this course we did what they call a TEWT, that is a Training Exercise Without Troops. In other words we, the students, all Second Lieutenants and full Lieutenants, went out with the Major who was our instructor and we walked a battle, in other words we walked along and our instructor would suddenly say “Right, now we stop here, this is the position” and he would say that the enemy were here and the enemy were here and we had to do this and that. So anyway, that was the sort of thing and then we would give answers as to what we should do and we were either right or wrong, and we were corrected, well of course this becomes a bit tedious after a while. But anyway we went on, and then we got to one stage where he said “Right gentlemen,” and he looked at the 28 of us and said “Right gentlemen, now then, this is the village that you have attacked and you have captured it and the enemy have fled. Now then, this village, you’ve fought your way up here, now what are you going to do in the next half an hour?”. Now I knew very well that the logical answer was, here we were, this is all in the countryside you see, I realised that the answer was that you mount sentries, or lookouts, at all the vulnerable points where the enemy might counterattack and you would place your Bren guns and machine guns in places to defend the position you’ve just captured, that was what he wanted us to say. But with this rather stupid sense of humour of mine, and thinking that we might brighten things up a bit, he turned to me and said “Right, Sorrel, what are you going to do in the next half hour?” and so I said, very facetiously “Loot the houses and rape the women, sir”. That was supposed to be terribly funny and that was supposed to get a big laugh, but this man nearly had a coronary, he went absolutely puce. So anyway when we got back at the end of the exercise, I was sent for by the Colonel in charge of the course and I was brought in and reprimanded and told that he’d never heard anything like it in his life and what did I mean? So I said what could I have meant? I said in all sincerity “It was a silly, stupid remark, a facetious remark which I now realise was probably not the right time to say it. But it’s just that, a silly, stupid remark made for a bit of a laugh”. “Well,” he said “I’ve given serious thought, I may send you back to your unit as unfit to be an officer, but I’ll give you one more chance”. And so nothing was said, but I may say that when I got back, it was reflected in the report they made and when I got back my Colonel gave me hell and I tried to explain to him, but he didn’t think much of it either.
One of the most ridiculous things that ever happened, twice in my life I was made Baggage Officer, twice in my life and each time it had some extraordinary results. The first time we were going from Scotland to Ireland and my Commanding Officer said “All right, Tony, I’m leaving you with 40 men and you will bring the battalion’s baggage over, you’re in charge of the baggage party”. So we get to the docks and there it is, it was only a shortish journey you see, and this small little steamship thing was docked alongside, and there on side on the quay were two enormous piles of baggage. My battalion’s and another battalion who were also going with us to the same place, the Worcestershire Regiment, mine was the Royal Warwickshire Regiment. So we were there first, so I started with my men to get the stuff on, but of course the great thing to do was, we mustn’t get the stuff mixed up. So I went down into the hold of the ship where the baggage was going, and draw a chalk line right down the centre and I said to my chaps “Now we’ll load all of our stuff on, but keep it all to that side of the white line, so when the Worsters come, when their baggage party arrives, they can load theirs on the other side, and then there’ll be no mix up, because it would be hell’s bells to play if we get the stuff mixed up”. So this happened, and we very nearly got all our stuff on and I was on the quay, not on the ship, I was off the ship at the moment and I was on the quay and I was walking down the quay and coming towards me were two naval officers running, obviously very agitated and they stopped when they reached me and one was a Captain of the ship that we were loading and the other was his First Lieutenant. So the Captain said “Who the hell’s in charge here?”. So I said “I am, sir, Lieutenant Sorrel, Royal Warwickshire Regiment, loading our baggage”. He said “Jesus Christ, man! What are you doing?”. I said “I’ve just told you, sir, we’re loading our baggage and the Worsters are going to load theirs and we’re going across”. He said “Look at my bloody ship, for Christ’s sake, man!”. And I looked and there was his ship leaning over to starboard with one edge very nearly underwater. What I’d done was put all this heavy baggage on one side and none on the other and the ship had a list so much that at any moment it looked as if it could topple over. And so that was my first experience of being a Baggage Officer.
Now the second one was really much more dramatic. This was when I was Baggage Officer when the battalion went from Africa to Italy, and we arrived in Naples Harbour in a horrible little China Sea’s merchantman which took the battalion over, it was being used as a troop ship, took the battalion over, and my men, I had about 40 men again as a baggage party, and all their rifles were in the armoury on board the ship. When we arrived at Naples, to our horror, we were advised that there was a cholera epidemic and none of the ship’s crew could go ashore, they had to remain on board. We, of course, the battalion was already there and we with the baggage, we had to go and join the battalion. So we started unloading the stuff, but the ship’s crew - very angry and the lowest form of animal life, of human life, I’ve ever met in my life, they really were the dregs of humanity, a terrible crowd - they had, unknown to me, raided the officers’ mess drinks supplies and were all fighting drunk on board ship. Anyway, we got all the baggage off and all that remained was for my men to go up the one gangplank, there was just one gangplank, from the ship to the quay, they had to go up there single file of course because it was a narrow thing, get their rifles and come back. So I said to my Sergeant “Right, get the men up and get their rifles”. At that moment, there appeared at the top of the gangplank on the ship one of the crew clad in old grey flannels and a white T shirt, who stood at the top of the gangplank with a 12 inch butcher’s knife and he said, as the first soldier went to go up, he said “I’ll kill anybody who comes up here”. So obviously the soldier went back down the gangplank and they stood there wondering what to do. And he just stood there waving this 12 inch butcher’s knife about and saying that he would slash anybody who came up the gangplank. So I called the men back and again, in my simplicity and my naivety, although this was well on in the War, but I assume that when this man saw an officer he would respond. All I’ve got was a swagger cane, you know a little short stick, I hadn’t got a weapon at all, and so I said “Right, keep the men back, Sergeant, I’ll go”. So I get halfway up the gangplank and I’m calling to this man “Now come along, stand aside, now come on, I’m an officer and I’m telling you just get away, get away from me, I want my men to come up and get the things”, and he waved this knife at me and then he did something which I will never forget to my dying day. With this 12 inch butcher’s knife, holding it in his right hand as if it were a razor, he went as if to shave himself with it but he was so drunk and so off his rocker that instead of shaving himself, he was slicing pieces of skin off his face and pieces of skin were hanging down and in a matter of seconds, the whole of his T shirt was covered in blood, his own blood. And so I stopped halfway up the gangplank thinking, well if this silly bugger is going to do that to himself, he won’t hesitate to stick me, officer or not. So I came down, very smartly came down, and stood there and I thought, now what the hell are we going to do? Because this man stood there, covered in blood, blood pouring off his face, and he stood there with this blood-stained knife threatening to kill anyone who came up. Now when my battalion had got off this ship, some Scots Guards had got on and they’d been abroad for about three years and they were really weather-beaten soldiers well versed in war, and at this precise moment a Corporal of the Guards was marching two of his men along to mount sentry on the top of this gangplank. Now that they were on board, the Scots Guard were, as it were, responsible for the ship, and so they were mounting a sentry and so there he was marching out. So I called out to him “Corporal, sir” and these men halted. I said “There’s a mad, drunken bastard there with a 12 inch knife, covered in blood, who won’t let my men get up to get their rifles, will you see to it?”. “Sergeant!” was all he said, and he turned around and he muttered something to these two men, one of whom went straight ahead towards the man on the route that they were going on, and the other one went around the other side of the ship and came around and would have approached the man from the back. So anyway, when this drunken man heard these soldiers approaching he turned and he waved the knife at them, and the soldier approaching him and got his rifle there and he held it at what we call high port, right hand and left hand across his front, and he held it there and this man said “I’ll kill ya! I’ll kill ya if you move an inch, if you move an inch I’ll kill ya”. At that moment, the other guardsman who’d come around the other side of the ship came behind him, also with his rifle at the high port. So suddenly this drunken man heard the soldier behind him and turned around, at which time the soldier behind him brought the butt of his rifle around, straight onto this man’s jaw which must nearly have knocked his head off and he fell down poleaxed on the ground. And then something happened which I will never forget the sight of. Never, ever forget. Just behind, on the deck, was the open space where the cargo had been brought up and the top had been taken off, so there was this space with a 30 foot drop down to the hold of the ship, and without a single moment’s hesitation these two guardsmen put their rifles down, one picked up this man’s two arms, the other picked up his two legs and they lifted him and dropped him 30 feet down to hold, to the bottom, and the Corporal looked over and he said “All clear now, sir, get your rifles” and we went up and got our rifles. And that was, to me, one of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever seen in my life.
On a lighter hearted note, another thing I will never forget. We had in our company a Private Biggerstaff. Now Private Biggerstaff was, I suppose, you can only refer to as a country bumpkin. He was a lovely, simple country lad as thick as two planks who was absolutely lost in the army really and didn’t know his right from his left. But if you put him on stage, people would say he was being overacted because you couldn’t be that. But anyway, Private Biggerstaff, just before I went on embarkation leave, we were in Exeter Bypass capital, and there we had, in the camp they had erected here and there urinals. Now anyone who’s been to France will know that in France they have urinals in public places which consist of poles and boarding around so that when you want to go and spend a penny, a man of course, you go in and the top of your head can be seen and from the knees down you can be seen, but the operative bits that are performing can’t be seen, and this is what a French urinal is like. Now we had this at the camp at Exeter, but it was just Hessian, wooden poles with Hessian, and of course the thing was you could go in, you could be seen from the head and shoulders up, and from the knees down, but nothing else. Well, I was walking with my Colonel along the path and Private Biggerstaff was in the urinal, which was just to one side of the path we were walking along. Now one thing Private Biggerstaff knew was, if you see an officer you salute. If you see the Colonel, there is nothing in the world will stop you saluting. So there was Private Biggerstaff, spending his penny, with his John Thomas in his right hand, and along came the Colonel with me and immediately - I have never seen anything like it - Private Biggerstaff transferred his John Thomas from his right hand to his left and saluted over the top of the Hessian and I don’t think my Colonel will ever forget the sight in the whole of his life.
I had one experience which I suppose was one of the funniest that I can remember. We were in Ireland and it was very, very muddy and wet and rainy, and the roads were absolutely, everything was saturated, there was mud in all the fields and it was terrible. And one day, there appeared a notice on battalion orders that I, among other officers, was to be an umpire in an exercise between the battalions - this was training not war-time, it was war-time but we were in Ireland - and so I went to the adjutant and very smartly saluted and said “I’m sorry sir, but you see it says in the orders that I’m to draw a motorcycle to act as umpire and I’ve never ridden a motorcycle”. So he said “Well it’s Thursday today, Tony, the exercise is on Monday, you will go and see the Motor Transport Officer and you will ask him to give you someone to instruct you how to road a motorcycle over the weekend, so that you’ll be fit for duty on Monday”. So for Saturday and Sunday, I went around, funnily enough, the battalion had had some new motorcycles delivered and they had to be broken in at 30mph, and so it suited the Transport Officer very much for me to ride one at 30mph and learn how to do it and help break it in. So I did this over the weekend. Anyway, on the Monday I went off to do my umpiring duty, and an umpire is where the different battalions are theoretically fighting each other and you and go and explain the situation and so on. Anyway, at one stage I had to report to the chief umpires centre which was, in fact, a farm hut down the muddiest lane I’ve ever seen in my life, about 12 inches of solid, sludgy mud. So I slithered down this thing, because I was still not experienced on this motorcycle, so I slithered down this thing and came to a halt, and it was pouring with rain at the time, and I slithered to a halt and stalled the engine and got off the motorbike, propped it up, and went in to report to the Chief Umpire, that’s what my instructions were. To my incredulity, in the hut, in addition to the umpire, was the Divisional Commander. Now the Divisional Commander was Major General Carton de Wiart VC DSO MC and Bar - who had, believe it or not, only one eye, the other was a black patch and one arm, and his sleeve was tucked into his pocket. He was incredible character, very famous in the army - and he stood there in the most immaculate outfit you’ve ever seen, including polished riding boots which came up to the knee, the boots came up to the knee and they were burnished brilliantly, he looked like something out of an advert. So I saluted and made my report to the umpire and asked what my instructions were, which he gave me you see, and I saluted smartly again and was about to turn around and go out, when the General said - because you have to announce yourself by name, you go in and you say “Lieutenant Sorrel, Royal Warwickshire Regiment, di-dah, di-dah, dozy” - so the General said “Sorrel, if you’re going up to the road, you can give me a lift on your motorbike, because my car’s up there, couldn’t get down that lane and I’m not going to walk up there in all that sludge, so give me a lift on the pillion”. Now I’m not a brave man and I was so terrified I did not know what to do, but I’d not got the courage to say “No I won’t” to the General. I hadn’t the courage just to say “Oh oh oh yes, sir”. So I’m standing there petrified in front - I was about 21 at the time - petrified in front of this man who was sort of a god to everyone else. So I said “Yes sir”. So he puts his Mac on and he comes out and I tried to get this bloody thing started, which of course was not easy, and he was getting a bit testy. Anyway eventually it burst into life and he sat on the back and somehow, somehow, I will never know how, I slithered and slid up this lane to the top and deposited him at the top, and he said to me “My God, the way you drove that damn thing, anyone would think you’d never ridden a motorcycle before”. So I said “Well in actual fact, sir, I only learnt to ride it yesterday”. And his face fell, and I think for one of the bravest men in the world, it was the first time he’d ever been absolutely terrified when he realised what he’d just gone through.
When I was stationed in Londonderry in Northern Ireland, one day I was Duty Officer and I was called out of bed and told to report down to the edge of the lock, the river that runs through Londonderry, and there was a lot of agitation there and there was a naval officer in charge of his launch, which was only sort of a fairly sizeable sort of launch like a small yacht thing, and up the river about two miles there was a lock and they said to me “A seaplane has landed in the lock and we don’t know whether it’s ours or German or what it is, whether it’s enemy or not, you must go up and investigate”. And so I said “Suppose they fire at me? If they’re enemy, what do I do?”. So he said “Oh no, you’ve got a Bren gun” - now a Bren gun is the minimal sort of machine gun that you can possible imagine - they said “We’re giving you two men and a Bren, which we will mount in the front of your launch and when you go up, your men must keep that trained on the flying boat until we find out what it is”. So we chug up in this thing and then we come around the bend and I can see facing us, propellers on, a four-engine flying boat and all I could see were the four engines and the wings sticking out, couldn’t see any markings of course because it was facing me. I was now very excited, you see, and so I said to the men - normally the men fire the gun and I give him charge - and I said “No, I’ll get on the gun”. So I lay down with the Bren gun with my finger on the trigger and I said to the chap steering the launch “Go around to the side and approach it from the side, so that we can see the markings and see what it is, if we can identify it” because all we could see were these four propellers and the wings. So this fellow steers out to the left, as it were, in the lock and then we turned to approach the flying boat sideways on, and of course we see the British markings. Now all this time while we were doing that, I was in the front of this vessel, this little launch, with my Bren gun pointed directly at the sort of cockpit thing of this flying boat where I could see a head, obviously one of the pilots or something, and so I thought, well if anything happens I’ll fire at that and either hit him or do something, and quite sort of terrified as to what was going to happen. But anyway, once we saw that it was a British flying boat, I got off the gun and we waved and called out “Hello! Hello there! What are you chaps doing?”. These people had had some sort of trouble with the engine, or something or another, and had landed here. Now they had not got the slightest idea where they were, and when eventually I clambered aboard this thing to speak to the senior officer on board the flying boat, I said “Well I received instructions, they didn’t know who the hell you were or what you were and I was sent along”, and I said “But I’ve got to tell you,” and laughingly I said this to the man “I’ve had my Bren gun trained on your head in that cockpit ever since we came into sight” and he said “Well, we didn’t know where we were and who you were and we’ve had two cannon and four machine guns trained at you all the time you’ve been coming up”. So anyway that was the end, but that was one of my more exciting moments in Northern Ireland.
If I may tell a rather more naughty story of my experiences in the War, I went on a boat called the Johan Van Olden Barneveldt, a troop ship to North Africa from England, and we landed in Algiers and we were sent to a holding camp just a few miles away, Philipville, a place called Philipville, and a gang of about ten young officers including me went one day into Algiers and we were going to visit a brothel to see the exhibition. Now you must understand that, I don’t know about the rest of them, but I was really so innocent it was untrue. I was about 23 and I’d been married for about a year-and-a-half or two years or something, but that was the limit of my sexual experience, but we decided that we couldn’t go to Algiers without seeing a brothel. So we went to the brothel where there was this demonstration by ladies and the whole idea was, of course, to excite us to such an extent that we couldn’t help but rush upstairs with one of them each when it was all over. But in fact, it so put us off that I think, far from that, it ruined any thoughts of sex for the next six months. But there was this one incredible thing, included among us, we picked up some other young officers who were going in at the time, there was a young Guards Officer and the big trick, which was really supposed to excite us but it didn’t really, was that one of these girls had such control of her sexual parts that she could pick up a coin if you put it on the edge of a table, she could, with her private parts, pick it up and walk across the room and put it down on another table and this was supposed to get shrieks of applause from everybody, it was quite incredible you see. Well, we all clapped dutifully you see and everyone was all “Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!”, but unknowns to us, this young Guards Officer, he got a sort of a big metal coin, five Francs or something, and he did it with his lighter, he made it hot with his lighter, and he put it on the edge of a table and said “Do that one”. So she was only too willing to oblige, so she came and she went to pick this thing up and let out a shriek that will be heard 20 miles away, and we just managed to get away without being severely damaged, I hate to think what would have happened if they’d caught, but we all just bolted at that, that was enough.
I had one really incredible experience. I was commanding a company - just after I was blown up and I was downgraded to Category B for a while until I was better - and I was commanding a company about 20 miles behind the line of reinforcements, where people from hospital and people from England came, and I sent them up the line. Anyway to keep them occupied during the day, we used to give them training and firing different weapons and doing this, that and the other, and I had a young officer with me, a very charming young boy, very young, even younger than me, and on our off-duty times we used to go down to the beach and swim, and on this beach - this young chap used to come with about five or six of us used to go - and while we were down there and on those occasions that we did go down, there was an extremely pretty Algerian girl, or French girl, very pretty little girl with her parents - she may have been Tunisian, I don’t know - but they were always there - they must have been French because she spoken French, that’s right - anyway she used to go in the water with her girlfriends or relatives or whatever, and she used to throw a ball to each other and she used to say “à moi, à moi” meaning “to me, to me” for the ball, and so he couldn’t take his eyes off this girl, this fellow, he really fell hook, line and sinker for this girl and we nicknamed her “à moi” and wherever we went we used to say “Look, à moi has come with her large entourage of arms” and all sorts of things, because these people all protect their pretty young women. So anyway during the course of training, one day we had a terrible accident and one of the soldiers put a mortar bomb in training in the wrong way, instead of dropping it in, he dropped the front in first and it exploded in the mortar and it killed one man and it wounded this young officer very badly, in fact it very nearly castrated him, but his wounds were in that part of his body, and he was taken to hospital. The thing was that when we went to see him, he was really very seriously ill and he was quite delirious and he kept saying, as far as we could make out, he wanted to see à moi. Now here was a wounded young British officer lying in hospital asking his friends to bring to him a pretty young girl, who none of us had ever spoken to, but who’ve played ball in the sea with her relatives who we’d seen. Anyway, he was in such a state and he was such a nice chap that we went down the next day to the beach and there she was, and I went up and in my terrible schoolboy French, I tried to explain to a very suspicious looking mama or grandmamma that we had a young officer, who they may have noticed us watching them in the past sitting near them, that this young officer was very ill, had been wounded and was in hospital and he desperately wanted to see this little girl, and was it in any way possible, if we provided the transport, that they would allow her to come, escorted by us to look after her and protect her, to go to see him in hospital, because he was really desperately wounded. And, ooh my word, there was all sorts of discussions and hubbubs and grannies and aunties and friends. Anyway eventually, believe it or not, they agreed, and we brought a truck down and we took à moi and about five of her aunts, or mothers or grannies or whatever they were, we took her to the hospital and she actually did go in and see him, and there he lay in there with his wounded middle, and he saw à moi, which I thought was one of the most beautiful little sentimental things, but my word it took some persuasions to get those ladies to come to bring her to the hospital.
My last story that I’m going to tell you is when I was coming home, returning home to England, after over three years abroad, and we were held up over in France because of bad weather and we stayed at a camp there where there was a lot of liquor available for purchase. And so we all bought a bottle of this or a bottle of that to take home for someone, but we had a young Scotsman there who bought so much stuff you’ve never seen, and his whole bag was filled with bottles, and he himself was drinking like a fish and getting more drunk and more drunk. Anyway, we went over on the ferry and eventually we arrived to go through customs, and this chap was really drunk, we were literally having to hold him up, and he was carrying his bag and we were holding him up. And we get to the customs and the customs man said “Have you got anything to declare, sir?” and so this fellow turned and said “My whole bag is filled with booze, nothing else but booze”. So the customs officer roared with laughter and put the squiggle on the thing and said “Right, so you go through”. I came through with one bottle of whisky for my dad and one bottle of whisky for my father-in-law and they made me pay duty. That is something I will never forgive the customs people for.
There we are, that’s the end of my stories and I hope that some of them have been interesting and if you’re fed up with them you must blame my grandson, Graeme, because he’s the one who made me do it.
16 September 2003
Farewell to Gramps, my childhood hero
My tribute to Gramps (read out at his funeral)
My earliest memories of Gramps are of a tall, bigger than life, bronzed figure with a pipe in his mouth and a sparkle in his eye, regaling hearty stories and spreading fun & laughter wherever he went. I remember him flying to South Africa for summer holidays, armed with hugs and funny stories - and my life would be complete. He introduced me to James Bond movies, the joys of swinging a cricket bat and the exhileration of surfing down waves at Muizenberg. He was quite simply my childhood hero and I dreamed of being like him when I was big. I cannot decribe my elation when he and Gran decided to come and live with us in South Africa. It was the happiest day of my life.
Gramps loved to perform. He was never happier than when he captivated an audience with a rivetting story or funny tale. During his younger days, he loved to act and was very, very good at it. He won England’s amateur actor of the year award and he became, for a while at least, the most famous bank manager in england after he appeared in national magazines as Blackbeard the Pirate and other charaters as part of a advertising campaign for the bank. Of course, his theatrics continued long into his life. Year after year, he held sway at the annual bowling party, entertaining many with his stories, and raising thousands of rands for his beloved club in the process.
Gramps taught me to love and savour food like no-one else. He relished a good meal with liberating gusto. He loved Gran’s delicious Sunday roast beef and yorkshire pudding. He adored sizzling Madagascan steaks at Barristers. And raved about Veal Princess at the Cassanova. Not to mention ladies ribs and Pecan-nut Sunday at the Spur. And of course, he ejoyed his liquid refreshments too – an amstel lager in the pool, a glass of Chateau Libertas with his meal and his personal favourite: an Irish whisky with a snack every morning at 11 am sharp.
Gramp’s loved his sport too. I remember his stories about his waterpolo days when his shoulders were at their widest and his fitness at it’s height. And his love of playing cricket which he did for many years. He also enjoyed watching sport on the telly and no-one was a greater supporter than he of his English cricket team. Then of course there was his passion for bowls. I have never seen him happier than when he was galloping along the bowls green. He often said that if he could choose how to die, it woul be from a heart attack on the green as he delivered the perfect wood and he heard the shout “toucher, Tony, toucher!!” Of course, it was a sad day when he had to give up due to his wobbly feet but the continued friendship of his bowling buddies meant the world to him.
I have several memories of gramps that make me laugh out loud. Like how he loved to do the Times cross word in the nude for inspiration. How, when I dyed my hair orangey blonde, he took one look and said “My God Graeme, you look like a Poefta!” How he affectionately made fun of granny’s lumpy custard. The way his hair stuck straight up when he’d just woken up. I love my memories of him as the train conductor at the annual Vista Nova fete yelling at the top of his voice “All here, all here for the Rondebosch Express” as little children ran around him in excitement. Then there was his amazing sense of faith in the reader’s digest competitions which he filled out and returned every second week saying “I’m shortlisted for the big one this time.” He never did win the big prize – but how he enjoyed the anticipation!
No-one adored his family more than Gramps. I remember the immense pride with which he walked Jo down the aisle on her wedding day, chest held high and his face beaming. I remember him trimming dad’s beard with tremendous care as they shared a chuckle . I remember how he loved Ally and how he became her number 2 hug man. I remember us all sitting together at Xmas, munching mince pies and opening presents. I remember how he held Sammy as a tiny baby as if his heart would burst. I remember his excitement when Keira and Trish came to visit and the look on his face when he spoke to Kyle on the phone about his lastest goal. I remember how his eyes would sparkle when he discussed the recent cricket match with Anthony. And most of all, I remember the way he spoke about Mum, and how her support and help and love were his rock as he became unable to move around and organise his life.
Of course, one cannot talk about gramps without talking about Gran in the same breath for they were soul mates for over 60 years and Gran was the very centre of his world. He loved to tell us how they met as teenagers under an old piano at a party during a game of murder in the dark and how smitten he was. She had, he would tell me many times in my life, the most beautiful legs in all of England.
The love that gran and gramps had for each other has been a never ceasing source of inspiration. They personify to me what love and devotion and comittment are all about. I will always remember their wonderful 50th wedding anniverasry at Kelvin when they shared their special memories with their friends and family. And as long as I live, I will never foget how gramps visited gran every single day for years when she had to move to Woodside Village. How they would hold hands for hours, often without speaking, as they looked out onto the garden. Gramps was absolutely determined to outlive gran so that he could support her to the very, very end – and so he did – and it’s no co-incidence that he passed away exactly one year to the day after gran. Or that he was heard to say “Dorothy is coming to get me” in the days before he did.
So all in all, my memories are a celebration for a wonderful life and a very, very special man. He was someone, who, no matter what was happening in his life, would find something to laugh about. He was someone who could make anyone feel comfortable and welcome. He had a zest for life that was infectious and liberating. He was my childhood hero and my favourite mentor and a constant source of inspiration. He was fun and loving and generous. He was my beloved Gramps. So many of the things that I hold dear in myself are due to him. My love of hugging. My freedom in showing emotions. My sense of humour. My belief in love.
The world has been a richer place because of Tony. We will miss him hugely. But I know that he is now back with gran. And I know that he keeping heaven entertained with his stories. And that he’s probably galloping right now along a clestial bowling green yelling “toucher!”. Or tucking into a delicious steak with a glass of red wine. I look forward to seeing him again one day to hear his latest story and share a hearty chuckle.
Letter to Gramps (sent 8 months before he passed away, 2002)
Hi there Gramps
I just wanted to write to share some feelings with you. I so wish I could be there to hear your voice and have a good chat. I know I will see you in February but that seems so far away right now! So right now I will just put a few of my thoughts in words for what they are worth…
As you know from my letter, I had such mixed feelings when I heard about Granny. Obviously I was very sad that she was gone and I would not see her again for a long time (I do firmly believe I will see her again one day). But I was happy that her spirit was once again free. It must have been so hard for someone as proud and independent as gran to loose all her freedom and have her body become so weak. And of course, it was equally tough for you to see her become so.
I was also happy for the wonderful life she led and the amazing person she was. She was such a gem, wasn’t she? Always constant and generous and caring for others. You recognised her beauty (in addition to her beautiful legs!) when you met her over 60 years ago and you continued to treasure her all her life. And I know she treasured you too even if she was not always able to say how she felt.
I also feel nostalgic when I think back over all my memories of gran and what she means to me personally. I remember how excited I would feel when I heard you and she were visiting South Africa. I have a memory of lieing in bed with her when I was 6 and had just won my first book prize and she read me a couple of chapters. I remember visiting her at Epworth Road and telling her all about School and how she would listen intently to every single word – always making me feel like I was the most important person in her world right then. How she would ring me to find out how my test or match or play had gone- always thinking of me, always interested in my life. How she would cut something out of the newspaper that she thought I would find interesting or useful – often about something that I had mentioned months before. She never missed anything did gran. And of course, I remember her delicious meals – especially her roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and veggies and trifle. Not to mention the kiersh and ice cream – do you remember that?
Also sleeping over with you guys and watching old movies like The 39 Steps till late and then going to bed with a hot water bottle that Gran had prepared. And lots of later memories too. Like the wonderful, spontaneous speech she did at your 50 th wedding anniversary. The hug she gave me on the day I married Ally. The pride and love love in her eyes whenever she held Sam. So many, many things – and so many of them make me cry.
But most of all I feel inspired by the way you and gran loved and supported and committed to each other during the 60+ years you were soul mates. You were always there for each other no matter what. And it never waived even during the hardest days of the past few years. It makes my heart swell when I remember how you visited gran literally every day for when you were at Whitehall. And how you sat with her every day while you were at Wodside. How I would visit sometimes to find you holding hands out on the patio at Woodside. Gran may not have voiced her inner most feelings but you could see how she cherished your support and how you were her north and south and east and west during her hard struggle at the end.
So Gramps, I just want you to know that I love you. Love you completely and wholeheartedly and unashamedly. You have always been my larger that life gramps – my cheerful, charismatic, open, funny gramps who I hero worshipped as a kid. You taught me how to show my emotions. How to show people I loved them. How to make people laugh and entertain them with funny stories. How to laugh at myself and see the funny side in things. How to enjoy myself and see the treasure in things no matter what. We have always talked together, you and I, about what a special person gran was. But haven’t told you that you were equally special and wonderful and amazing in your own way. Much of who I am today is thanks to you and gran. It has been such a wonderful journey, our relationship together – and I know Jo feels the same way.
So gramps, those are my feelings. Uncensored and from the heart. I wish I was there to say them but they are no less from the heart because they are via email.
I think of you every day and as I said in my letter before, I know Gran is watching over us. Love as special as the love that you and gran shared never dies. Never.
Bye for now / G
Gramp's speech at his 50th Wedding Anniversary (see more speeches)
My friends
I put a lot of thought into what I was going to say today and now I am in such a state, I can hardly say anything.
Firstly I must thank Graeme for the beautiful things he said to Dorothy and me and I must also congratulate him on the excellent way in which he proposed the toast.
Everybody in their lives has certain extra special days and I worked out the other night that in my life I have had five extra special days. The first was my 21 st birthday. Now everyone’s 21 st birthday is an extra special day but mine was an extra special day because it was on that day that I proposed to and was accepted by my Dorothy. Extra special day number two was an unmentionable number of years ago when Dorothy presented us with our first daughter, Jill. Now I say unmentionable number of years because I have a shrewd idea that Jill would rather I was not specific. Extra special day number three came an embarrassingly short time after special day number two Dorothy presented me with daughter number two, Trisha, who resides in Canada but, thank God, is here today. Number four of course was our 25 th wedding anniversary and number five is today, the big 50.
Now how do you say thank you to a person who you have shared your life with for 50 years, who has born your children, who has loved and cared for you for 50 years. Now when your first born toddler or your first grandchild staggers up to you on uncertain legs clutching in his hand or her hand a drawing in crayon, utterly indecipherable, but presents it to you with a look of love and a look of pride and you look at this little face and you say “Thank you.” Your heart is filled with love. When an eighteen year old boy, on graduation, gets from his parents his first 2 nd hand motor bike or old banger car, with his face suffused with emotion and gratitude, he looks at his parents and says “Thank you, mum. Thank you dad.” But how do you thank a woman for 50 years of love. A women who has been your wife, your companion, your lover and your friend for 50 years. The words just aren’t there. All you can do is look at her and say “Thank you, darling, for everything.”
Now everyone here I think, except for two, are people who are married or have been married. And I’m not standing here for a minute pretending this has all been Camelot: The sun always shines, it never rains, and everything is always perfect. I’m not because I’ve got to tell you that this beloved girl of mine can be very difficult . She can be very awkward. And like so many women, she is utterly, utterly illogical. And she has that gorgeous feminine habit of never admitting she is wrong. But I have to tell you that on Tuesday of this week, this very week, Dorothy broke into double figures and for the 10 th time in 50 years, she looked at me and said “Darling, I was wrong.” I thought to myself, Xmas has come early this year. And then, as if this wasn’t enough, and I am sure this could only be because she was suffused with the emotion of this imminent occasion, through gritted teeth, she added “And you were right!”
Dorothy and I are so thrilled and grateful that you have honored us with your presence here today. We have here our lovely South African daughter, Jill, and Ivor, her husband, and as you have already heard, our gorgeous grandson, Graeme, who is the apple of our eye. Sadly my beautiful granddaughter, Joanne, is in America and cannot be here but you have heard that lovely message from her and, bless her heart, she rang us today.
We also have here, to put the icing on the cake, our daughter Trish from Vancouver and that really is a Godsend. Unfortunately, her husband Mike, and their two lovely kids, Keira aged 11 and Kyle aged 8, obviously can’t be here. Mike has to earn a living, the kids have to go to school and we can’t afford four return fares from Vancouver!
We are also thrilled that quite by chance, which makes it even more delightful, we have Barbara here who lives in Majorca and she is here with her husband. We have known Barbara for longer than she would like me to mention and it is a thrill that they happen to be here in this country just at this time.
We also welcome all those lovely friends of Jill and Ivor, who, over the 20 years we have been here, visiting and living, have become friends of ours. And lastly, but by no means least, my lovely pals from the Rondebosch Bowls Club. For 10 years nearly, we have been members and they took us into their club and into their hearts, and they have become, outside my family, my life. I can’t tell you the pleasure and the joy that it gives me and Dorothy to have you here today.
Now I’d like to close very briefly, as I started, by talking to Graeme. I’d like to end by giving Graeme one piece of advice. Now at no stage does a 21 year old boy think of being married 50 years himself. But when one day he marries and eventually recalls this lovely day, it might possibly cross his mind “Could I possibly be married for 50 years?”
And you can Graeme, and please God you will, and you have only one thing to do but it is the most difficult thing you could possibly imagine – you have to find and marry a girl as wonderful as my Dorothy.
Gramp's farewell (from a tape that I received after Gramps passed away)
Dearest Graeme & my beautiful Ally.
This is just a message to you which you will receive when I’ve gone. But I have told you both so many times personally and in letters and cards how much I love both of you. But I just want to tell you that really there are no words that can express the gratitude I feel to my family and you two included of course for the kindness and the love and the affection and the helpfulness that you have given me through particularly as far as Graeme’s concerned the last 22 years I’ve lived in South Africa and as far as my beautiful Ally is concerned the day she came into your life when I met her for the first time.
I am just realizing at the age of 84 just how lucky I have been in my life. I was married to the most wonderful lady in the world and I loved her for 65 years, of which 60 we were actually married but I was busy chasing her for 5 before that. And on top of that she gave me 2 wonderful daughters who produced in their turn each a boy and a girl and you Graeme are my No. 1 grandson and there is something between us that I think we both realize. You have often said that you can see a lot of me in you and I can see a lot of me in you and you have written some incredible letters to me telling me in writing what I have meant to you and you actually said it as well and it really is something else because I so love you and I’m so proud of you and it just makes my life wonderful. The whole family is so blessed with happy marriages and no angry words or anything. I just can’t get over it. That there seems to be nothing nasty. The only difficulty of course is the distance of the Vanderbecks from us or from me and that of course is something that one can’t avoid.
But Graeme I have been so proud of you as I watched you grow up and as I said in my message to Jo, I remember going back when you were just a little boy and she was a little girl and you two, granny and I used to have those surfboards at Newsenberg and just coming on those little waves and the winner was the one who got nearest to the beach with his or her surfboard and I had to cheat like crazy not to win because grandads aren’t supposed to beat little children at games. But it was such fun and we all had such fun. It was absolutely lovely and I remember too Graeme when I used to come and sit with your Dad in the little toddler’s pool looking onto your proper pool and I’d be sitting there having a beer or something like that, having trimmed Dad’s beard and you would stand at the other end of the pool far far away from me and you would stand there and I would pretend to shoot you with a pretend machine gun going dadadadadad like that and you used to clutch your stomach as the bullets rippled into you and fell flat forward head first straight into the pool. We would both used to shriek with laughter at the stupidity of it but it was such fun and so lovely and I remember it so well.
We really have been so lucky and what I think is so lucky is that having lived here for 22 years when we came to be near you, Mum and Dad and Jo but the extraordinary thing is that in all the years we were never further than 5kms away from each other and that I think is extraordinary because you could so easily as a family have gone to Johberg or somewhere like that, but fate didn’t decide that and you stayed there so granny and I were thrilled with having you.
I shall always treasure your speech at our 50th wedding anniversary when you told everyone about me doing the times crossword in the nude and cheating on granny as soon as she went to shut her eyes switched to my program. Oh lovely. All the people there did enjoy it and you really have got quite a master’s touch in this public speaking. And speaking of someone who the only gift God gave me was being able to make a speech at a drop of a hat or write a good letter. Those were the only two real actual gifts if you like that I had but that public speaking one is very valuable and can stand you in good stead throughout your life so make the most of it and don’t ever drop it.
And then of course what did you do, you went and married the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen outside our family and there was I trying to look at her and just feel she’s my grand-daughter in law and I kept looking at her and I was thinking you’re gorgeous and I made that awful remark to granny when we were a bit worried because you didn’t pop the question and we were worried you would lose her and I said to granny one day, “you know if I was 50 years younger I’d give him a run for his money I’d propose myself”, at which granny came with a remark I will cherish forever I know I’ve told you before that she said “oh no my boy, 50 years ago you were still married to me”, which I thought was brilliant from the dear old darling.
But anyway we really have got a gorgeous family. Your mother has been so wonderful to me. I cannot possibly describe the care and the loving kindness and the work that she does for me to keep me supplied with whatever is required, and to look after my bank accounts and transfer when necessary and the simple fact remains and I realize now that at 84 a lot of these things are to be truthful beyond me and I get a bit befuddled and what I would have done and your darling Mum I just don’t know and so I have been very blessed. And I look around and I see other people who have got hardships and that and I think how lucky I am to have reached this age with all of the love and the caring that exists around me and I just feel blessed completely so all we want now my boy and as you too get yourself a job in England, in South Africa and bring that beautiful girl back here when you can although I realize it is all very well to talk about it and I’m not making light of it because I know it isn’t easy, but we would love to have you back here as I’m sure you both really would like to be back here.
Anyway, Graeme, Ally you know because I’ve told you so often, how much I love you both. I mean no one can have told his grandson and his grandson’s wife more often as I have about loving and being loved and showing your love and thank God you do and I’m so grateful that I’ve been permitted to live to see it and I wish you both all the happiest of marriages for the rest of your lives.
Bye-bye.
As a kid
Married to his darling for over 60 years (see 50th wedding anniversary)
Gramps was a captain in the 2nd world war
Gramps with his Dad (a chip off the old block!)
Gramps with his beloved daughters
Bank Manager for Natwest
Gramps loved his acting. Here he is in a series of adverts for Natwest dressed up in the roles he played in his acting.
Bigger than life, I hero worshiped him as a kid (and still do)
A great lover of the sun (and his pipe)
And surfing the waves at Muizenberg
...he has been an invaluable part of my life
A very proud Great Grandad
Letter written by Gramps as a child
click to enlarge
Related links
- Photos of Gramps
- Gramps war stories
- Gramps: Actor extraordinaire
- My childhood letters to Gran and Gramps
- Gran and Gramps wedding (1941)
- Gran & Gramps 50th wedding anniversary (1991)
- Posts tagged as "Gran and Gramps"
- Gramp's parents
- Biographical information and registries
- Posts tagged as "Gran and Gramps"
