1 Comments

  1. elizabet

    My father died in 1998 and so it is with some measure of freedom that I am now able to state that on his 20th birthday, June 1944 he with many other British soldiers, landed on the Normandy beaches, D-Day!

    He left a quiet rural Welsh village a shy sensetive young man and returned late 1948 apparently completely changed!
    It has taken all my life to question why he drank excessively, why he didn’t hug me or my brothers, why he never expressed any emotion or love.

    It wasn’t until quite late on in his and my life that he ever spoke of the war offering a few “snippets” of information, by which time he was racked with cancer and the effects of living the life of an alcaholic

    Watching the recent programmes relating to the Normandy landings and having seen other footage of the actual events in programmes like ” The World at War” it is only recently that I have come to terms with the man who made me

    I forgive him his coldness, his drunken disruptive behaviour, his temper, his complete inability to show any emotion to those who lived with him.

    I heard someone say that war makes men of boys. I say that war kills all who become part of it. The poison permeates everything and everyone

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