Hitler and my Grandfather - Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII

THE DAY OF RECKONING

To conclude, the whole sorry chapter of my relationship with my grandfather was about to come to a dramatic end.

Until my father was demobilised, my grandfather felt that verbally he could treat me how he liked. This resulted in me walking the streets in all the elements, just to get away from the constant onslaught. None of my friends were allowed to call for me or come in the house. On any occasion someone did call for me it was always greeted with “Clear off, don’t ever come knocking on this door again!” This resulted in my becoming a bit of a loner for a while. One day when I came home to dinner from work, my grandfather was in a particularly bad temper and as usual I was the subject of his wrath. By now I realised not to react as it made him worse so I withstood the barrage silently. When I went to go through the front door he shouted “They blamed the doctor for his mother’s death, we all know whose fault it was - him the coward, ran away to Barnsley to get out of it!”

I went back into the living room and six years of pent up emotions exploded. To my everlasting shame, I had never before or since lost my temper, I grabbed him by the throat and held him against the wall and said “I will kill you”. My poor grandmother wrestled to pull me away and said for the only time I ever hear her say anything against him “Don’t Jack, he’s not worth it”. My temper abated as quickly as it had risen when I saw what I had done to her. I embraced her and apologised profusely for upsetting her. I asked her to talk to him, after I returned to work, and say that if he ever said that again I would carry out my threat. To this day I am deeply ashamed of my actions. From then on an uneasy truce existed between him and me. My father’s return home on demob helped.

In 1948 at the age of 18 I was called up to Catterick Camp, Yorks to do my training with the Royal Signals. On finishing I was posted to a small secret camp in the jungle in Ceylon (Sri Lanka).

On my return I was given a hero’s welcome from my grandfather! I was the apply of his eye! My aunt, his daughter, told me years later that of all his many grandchildren, I was his blue eyed boy. I was told on my wedding day in 1954 he cried like a baby in the church and said how proud he was of ‘his boy’. Alas, all too late, I could not, as hard as I tried really forgive him for all the heartache he had caused me. The most I could feel towards him, unfortunately was pity.

Hitler and my grandfather, why had both of them hated me so much, at a very vulnerable time of my life aged 9-15 years!

An interesting footnote to all this was when I left school, apart from playing football and cricket I really had no idea what career to take up. After a lot of thought and my grandfather’s taunts of being a weakling etc I thought the chaps in the building industry looked a tough lot, coupled with this the fact that I was hopeless at woodwork. At school, my woodwork master once remarked “Thank your lucky stars Hilton you don’t intend to use your hands for a living - you’d starve!” I became, would you believe, a carpenter and joiner - with some modest success.

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