D Day
- Thread starter Cuchilo
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Risex4
Dropped by the autobus
- Location
- The Green/Gray Hills Of Debunshire
It always astounds me to my very core the absolute dignity and respect that the WWII veterans compose themselves with.
What they went through, experienced, felt, and must have seen. To turn up still and just be the archetypal English gentleman simply blows my mind.
To be that, well, stoic, if anything it just makes me think that no-one in my or subsequent generations can even remotely comprehend the enormity of what they endured and that what we think we know doesn't even come close.
A story, if you'll allow.
Many many moons ago, in a previous job, I was called out to a nice quaint house in the country to assist a customer with a product which had been purchased from my shop. If you'll forgive such a vulgar turn of phrase, it was an elderly couple who couldn't quite grasp the nuances of modern technology. The gentleman greeted me at the doorstep, thanking me eagerly and graciously for my trouble in trekking out to solve what would almost certainly be a minor and straight forward problem. I turned up with all the know how and pretty soon set it right.
While I was there in their nice cottage, fiddling with modern contraptions, the lady of the house, brimming with all the hosting courtesies one may expect but in reality increasingly finds hard to discover, saw that my attention had been momentarily caught by a few of the pictures on the wall. She proceeded to explain, in a rather relaxed manor, that they had lived in the cottage for many years, they'd enjoyed many an adventure together (as evidenced by said pictures) which probably stemmed from their meeting in occupied France while they were both working behind the lines during the war...
Wait, what?
I was stunned. Having recently read "The White Rabbit" by Bruce Mitchell (coincidently, a massively good and recommended read, if that's your thing), I was aching suddenly to talk to them about their experiences. What happened? What was it like? But I stopped myself when I thought how could I - indeed how dare I, I someone who's life problems amount to "do I have enough money to go out on the beer this Saturday?" and "is it time to upgrade my phone yet?" ask them to regale me of their experiences and even come close to pretending I understood what it was they were telling me, if indeed either of them had deemed to do so.
I left there ever so slightly humbled, to say the least.
What they went through, experienced, felt, and must have seen. To turn up still and just be the archetypal English gentleman simply blows my mind.
To be that, well, stoic, if anything it just makes me think that no-one in my or subsequent generations can even remotely comprehend the enormity of what they endured and that what we think we know doesn't even come close.
A story, if you'll allow.
Many many moons ago, in a previous job, I was called out to a nice quaint house in the country to assist a customer with a product which had been purchased from my shop. If you'll forgive such a vulgar turn of phrase, it was an elderly couple who couldn't quite grasp the nuances of modern technology. The gentleman greeted me at the doorstep, thanking me eagerly and graciously for my trouble in trekking out to solve what would almost certainly be a minor and straight forward problem. I turned up with all the know how and pretty soon set it right.
While I was there in their nice cottage, fiddling with modern contraptions, the lady of the house, brimming with all the hosting courtesies one may expect but in reality increasingly finds hard to discover, saw that my attention had been momentarily caught by a few of the pictures on the wall. She proceeded to explain, in a rather relaxed manor, that they had lived in the cottage for many years, they'd enjoyed many an adventure together (as evidenced by said pictures) which probably stemmed from their meeting in occupied France while they were both working behind the lines during the war...
Wait, what?
I was stunned. Having recently read "The White Rabbit" by Bruce Mitchell (coincidently, a massively good and recommended read, if that's your thing), I was aching suddenly to talk to them about their experiences. What happened? What was it like? But I stopped myself when I thought how could I - indeed how dare I, I someone who's life problems amount to "do I have enough money to go out on the beer this Saturday?" and "is it time to upgrade my phone yet?" ask them to regale me of their experiences and even come close to pretending I understood what it was they were telling me, if indeed either of them had deemed to do so.
I left there ever so slightly humbled, to say the least.
Last edited:
Pro Tour Punditry
Guru
Apart from the Scottish, Welsh, Northern Irish, Aussies, Americans, Czechs, Poles, Dutch, Belgians, French, etc etc - and then their were those who are veterans on the "enemy" countries.
English flag-waving colonialism...
Risex4
Dropped by the autobus
- Location
- The Green/Gray Hills Of Debunshire
Why do that?
I was in no way looking to diminish any other person's "contribution" based on nationality. But if you want to trivialise it with semantics, then fine.
I was in no way looking to diminish any other person's "contribution" based on nationality. But if you want to trivialise it with semantics, then fine.
Pro Tour Punditry
Guru
If you want to show your narrow field of reference to "England" then carry on, semantics it is not. It's English narrow-mindedness and flag-waving.
Risex4
Dropped by the autobus
- Location
- The Green/Gray Hills Of Debunshire
Why, because as an Englishman I referenced 'English' veterans. Should I have said "British gentleman"?
Cycling Dan
Cycle Crazy
Depends of what degree of involvement you reference.
slowmotion
Quite dreadful
- Location
- lost somewhere
Pro Tour Punditry
Guru
Only English ones I'd heard, nobody from anywhere except England did anything.
byegad
Legendary Member
- Location
- NE England
Everyone was involved. Both my parents were in reserved occupations, my father making steel for, among other things Armoured cars. My mother working at Middlesbrough station in the Goods office, which was destroyed by a lone raider on August Bank Holiday Monday. Had she not had the day off she would have died. My late Mother-in-Law was called up and ended up at an Anti-Aircraft battery 'somewhere in England'. My Father-in-Law was in the RAF in India, flew as a gunner on a long range Liberator and returned home so thin his own mother didn't recognise him. Other countries? A Dutch baker I met on holiday with his wife suffered starvation in late 1944 to early1945 when the Germans diverted their supplies of food to their own use. They never forgave them and were eternally grateful to the RAF for attempting to drop supplies to their village. A friend's Mother worked at Bletchley Court and only told her Husband about her war work in the last year of her life, she lived to 83! He was half French.
You've not seen Risex4's post above then?
Pro Tour Punditry
Guru
I'm off to remember all the Scotsmen who won the war
Just a turn of phrase, I'm sure you'll understand
Just a turn of phrase, I'm sure you'll understand
Archie_tect
De Skieven Architek... aka Penfold + Horace
- Location
- Northumberland
Today is a day to remember what happened, why argue about where the soldiers were born or the essential roles men and women undertook elsewhere, we all know all that....
70 years ago thousands of soldiers left ports on the south coast of England for the Normandy beaches knowing that they were likely to be killed or injured. It's impossible to think what that was like on the boats going over. My uncle was a tank commander who never talked about what he had to do or what he lived through.
He once said quietly, be glad you've never had to deal with it, and never spoke of it again, but on the 50th anniversary, before he died, the veterans association took him over to a French village which he helped liberate and they treated him with such respect and honour that he cried for days after.
70 years ago thousands of soldiers left ports on the south coast of England for the Normandy beaches knowing that they were likely to be killed or injured. It's impossible to think what that was like on the boats going over. My uncle was a tank commander who never talked about what he had to do or what he lived through.
He once said quietly, be glad you've never had to deal with it, and never spoke of it again, but on the 50th anniversary, before he died, the veterans association took him over to a French village which he helped liberate and they treated him with such respect and honour that he cried for days after.
Pro Tour Punditry
Guru
No.
Cos until the English stop thinking that they are the only country who are relevant I'll keep highlighting it.
