What Did Your Dad Do After The War?


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Thank you so much for the posts,fascinating!!

After the war my Mothers Dad did time- for bigamy!!

Strangely enough when my Mum lived in the Isle of Wight- she met a miss Wingate...after a chat the lady stated her Grandfather was Orde. She went home and checked her Grandfather's diaries- sure enough SGT Joseph Holland was mentioned.

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My Dad finished his apprenticeship at ROF and joined RAF in December 1942, the month of his 21st birthday. After basic training as LAC (Leading Aircraftsman) at RAF Halton he was shipped out to Europ

My dad's jobs I remember after the war were, Lorry driver Sankey's, - breadman doorstep deliveries, - bus driver corpo - during theses times he also a had job as 'doorman' at Astoria ballroom and Asp

My dad was a mental health nurse pre-war, so volunteered for RAMC as soon as it was inevitable that war was coming. He was in France for the phoney war, and was evacuated from Dunkirk. Once posted to

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My dad was a radio operator in the navy during the war, spending most of his time around what was then called Ceylon.

Intriguingly, when he came back to the real world he never followed up that line of work (and I never got round to asking why). He spent almost all of his working life as a pharmacist in chemists' shops.

For over 30 years he worked for E. R. Pear chemists at Sherwood and Basford, and then Morley chemists (later became Milnes-James chemists) at Bestwood.

I have a feeling benjamin is going to say he might have known him.

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You not wrong cliff-ton,Morleys Chemist i'm sure were on Arnold rd Bestwood next door to Marsdens............think i purchased a surgical knee support there in my playing days.........bet your Dad served me........lol.

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Yes, he worked at Morley's Arnold Road shop but only for a couple of years. I guess it would have been around 1966-67.

He was at the Beckhampton Road shop from when it opened circa 1970, until the early 90s.

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My dad's jobs I remember after the war were,

Lorry driver Sankey's, - breadman doorstep deliveries, - bus driver corpo - during theses times he also a had job as 'doorman' at Astoria ballroom and Aspley Ballroom, - mechanic at Hopcrofts later Moons, Mechanic Mr Softee - Mr. Whippy - self-employed mechanic at Tonibell, made his money bought house new car and retired to Chapel St. Leonards - became transport manager Butlin's . He used to take me with him to most of these places on school holidays and weekends but I never got around to asking about the war and he never volunteered info.

When my son was about 8 I got him to ask his granddad to jot some notes down about his experiences. They were for me really and I'm glad I did it, the original is now in the Imperial War Museum. I got a real insight into why he behaved as he did, sometimes he could be an awkward bugger but then I look at what happened in his 20s and no doubt to countless others and I can understand why. After my parents died I went and found descendants of the family that harboured my dad in Italy, I wasn't prepared for the emotion of the occasion and was a real cry-baby at that one. A few extracts below.IMG_1642_zpsjcuo4k1x.jpg?1460850367106&1IMG_1643_zpseurjxnof.jpg?1460850367105&1IMG_1645_zps4dlqczn7.jpg?1460850367101&1

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What a sad, happy, couragious and emotional journey your dad took. It goes without saying you are proud of him. The Italian community during that time, especially " i contadini" who I've heard went out of there way to help escapees as there was always food in their houses. We see so many war and P.O.W. Films so you expect that type of story but when fiction becomes reality it brings it home to you what they did for our generation to live in peace. I'm glad you were able to trace the descendants of the family that took care of your father. Knowing how Italian families are I think they were very emotional too.

Thankyou Dave for sharing

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I've been reading all the posts on this thread and it's hard to understand the horror and trauma that the servicemen/women had to endure. We can all say how terrible it must have been but unless you went through what they did you could never understand the reality of it. One minute you're going to work, meeting your mates for the banter and then going home to your family. The next minute you're in another country seeing the horror of soldiers being blown to pieces before your eyes. There was no time to stop, you had to keep moving. Others would be taken prisoner and suffer torture and starvation. Those that make it back home to their loved ones are the lucky ones but they will never be the same people again. The horror of war will be with them until they die. That's one of the reasons why they never want to speak of their experiences, like when little Johnny wants to know how many Japs and Germans he'd killed. My own father never spoke about the war and it wasn't until a couple of years ago that I learnt he'd had an elder brother.

Older Nottstalgians may have read my post regarding my uncle but I've added a link below for the newer members who may be interested in reading about my uncle.

http://nottstalgia.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=11788

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I had a highly decorated friend who passed away a few years back, he fought as a Navy Seal in Vietnam and on secret missions into Cambodia. He was involved in eliminating Regular and VC soldiers..I once said to him it was only the enemy...To which he replied, John, they were human beings, who had Mothers, Fathers Brothers and Sisters and probably kids, I have to live with that every night when I go to sleep"

That's what servicemen have to live with after war. They can never forget, in Band of Brothers, the very men that were in the European theatre of war still became emotional when relating their experiences, wasn't pretty.

My Dad was lucky, he wasn't fit enough to pass his medical, so he ended up at Chilwell Depot as a civilian driver, his Brother fought in North Africa where he ended up getting wounded, on recovery he was just in time for the Sicily landings, where he got wounded again. He migrated to NZ in the early 1950's to help set up a furniture factory for Stag Cabinet Co, he's is buried in Dunedin, he never returned to the UK, not even for a visit.

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My father worked on the same farm as his father and other family members, in Norfolk. When war broke out, he volunteered for pilot training in the RAF but was rejected due to having perforated ear drums - the result of a childhood illness. Two days after the rejection he received his call-up papers to serve as a 'Bevin Boy' and was posted to Hucknall colliery. Having spent all of his working life outdoors it was a complete culture shock to spend all day underground. After the war - like a number of Bevin boys - my father continued as a miner for several yesrs until a bad roof-fall trapped him and he was hospitalised because of his injuries and subsequently contracted pneumonia. My mother persuaded him to seek a less dangerous job and he worked at a bakery in Hucknall and then as a manager at the 'Sunblest' bakery in Nottingham.

After my parents divorced he moved away from the area, returning several years later to marry a Hucknall woman and working as a publican. He had tenancies of a number of public houses including the 'Flying Bedstead' and 'Nabb Inn' before that marriage also failed and he returned to Norfolk. I never heard from him again.

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When I was in the army 1971 to 1980 there were still a lot of old comrades who had come through WW11. At OCA meetings they would group together and having served together after a few pints they would start to recall some of the things that happened to them usually between themselves.

The regiment served throughout North Africa and involved in some very heavy fighting, including being a lead tank regiment at El Alamien. After the defeat of the Africa Corps they were relieved to be sent back to Blighty instead of going to Italy.

Then they found out they were to be amongst the first to land on D Day in swimming tanks, those that survived that, then went on to fight all the way to Germany the reconnaissance troop being the first British soldiers into Germany itself.

I have sat in with them and listened in without asking questions, questions was a certain way to kill the conversation. Some horrific things death, mutilation etc were spoken off in a very matter of fact way which I found strange to start with.

Then during one meeting where the banter was rife one of the guys turned to another and said "Bloody hell, Bill two tanks in one day, you always were a bloody clumsy bugger" I later learned that Bill (not his real name) a Sgt tank commander had had two tanks shot from under him in one day, both times he lost members of his crew, both times he found another tank with other crewmen and went back to the fight.

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My Dad joined up in Jan 1942, aged 19. He'd married my Mum in Dec 1941. A "cushy" war, compared to some, he was RAF Ground Crew, a Wireless Operator, serving mainly in the UK, but also in France in 1944. He had a terribly impoverished childhood - his Dad was a heavy drinker who didn't provide enough food for his kids - they were always hungry. My Dad's main aim after the war was to make sure his children didn't suffer the same fate. A very bright man, although with basic education, he was limited by his background, but not the typical strict and old fashioned husband or Dad of his time. Great fun and died far too young, aged 61 in 1983

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My Dad finished his apprenticeship at ROF and joined RAF in December 1942, the month of his 21st birthday. After basic training as LAC (Leading Aircraftsman) at RAF Halton he was shipped out to Europe where he kept the planes flying. He was fortunate because he followed the action around and was sent to Gibraltar, Algeria, Italy and Greece when events in those countries had calmed down. Like most other Dads he never spoke about the actual 'work' involved, but he played in the RAF football team and his memories revolved around those games ........That was his war!

On de-mob in 1946 he returned to Nottingham, went back to work at ROF, met my Mum and they married a year later.

Naively he thought that money he was sending home during his time overseas would be there to help get them started in married life. He was wrong. His father was a waste of space, a heavy drinker who had smoked and drunk away all Dad's savings, so my parents had to start from nothing. The only memory I have of that grandad is of him sitting in a wing-backed armchair, glass of beer in one hand, fag in the other and a pile of ash on the carpet. He died in 1954, aged 56. My granny, on the other hand was a wonderful hard-working woman who carried on going out to work until she was 70.

Because of the strained relationship my Dad had with his father he himself strived to be a good provider and loving father to us. He worked at ROF all of his working life, apart from 2 or 3 years when he worked at Raleigh and Myford Tools in Beeston. He topped up his wages by playing semi-professional football for several years, think he finally hung up his boots when he reached 40.

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Your granny and fathers work ethics have obviously been passed down to you Lizzie. Well done!

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Flattery will get you nowhere FLY! Yes, I'm still working but nowhere near as hard as my parents and grandmother. Times were harder then than they are now, I'm sure we all agree.

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After the horrors of the first world war that my Grandad went through i'm pretty sure he did everything in his power to make sure his son didn't have to go thru similar experiences,..........My Dad was only 16 when war broke out again in 1939 and he became a proud Private Pike in the Bulwell/Basford Homeguard.

He also worked on the Railway at Annesley throughout the War and after apart from 3 years on the buses,he was on Bulwell Common station when the plane crashed there in 1950 or 51........Very proud of my Dad a gentle and caring man,who worked hard all his life finally succoming to Parkinsons disease in 2007.

Very seldom saw him without a Tie............even on the Beach at Skeggy..............

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My Dad was so lucky. He went to join the Navy along with lots of his Radford friends. He failed his medical and ended up in the RAF Regiment. All the others went on the HMS Hood. Say no more.

Most of the time he was guarding aerodromes in the south but did follow the invasion force through Europe before he was sent to Australia to await the invasion of Japan. As this never happened, he had a great holiday in Australia instead lucky fellah. It could have been so different. After the war he trained to be a joiner at Long Eaton College then spending much of his time doing first and second fix joinery for Wimpey's until he fell off a scaffold and badly injured his back. He4 worked for an upholsterers after that. A firm called MBC which was just a huge cabin next to Spray and Burgess on Eastwood St. in Bulwell. As they were contracted to Hardy Hanson's Brewery, guess where he spent much of his working day.

When MBC closed down he went back into building sites soon becoming Forman Joiner on the houses at Sandhurst Road near Bulwell Lido. He worked for Searson's, getting up to General Forman before he became a freelance Clerk of the Works. He retired in 1986 as maintainance officer with Metropolitan Housing.

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The sinking of the Hood was one of the saddest days in our glorious naval history.

One lucky shot, that's all it took.

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