Missing Dad

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My family lived by the Woolwich Arsenal which was in Woolwich, and the nearest station was the Woolwich Dock Dale Station and I used to remember Mum trying to get home and having to try and get shelter, with me as a babe, trying to get through the bombing with an elderly mother and a young baby.

I didn’t see my Dad till I was three and a half. I was six months old when he was reported missing and taken as a POW in Germany and I was three and a half when he came out. Of course, I didn’t know him, I’d seen photos.

I can remember my mother telling me that I used to push my way in-between my Mum and Dad if they were holding hands because I didn’t know who this man was. Also, it was an all female environment that I was brought up in, so, who was this man claiming to be my Dad?

I can vaguely remember things like that, but people just didn’t want to talk about it. My Mum said that the war had changed his personality. He stayed in the army till forty-seven because he was a regular and a Sergeant Major, but left to become a postman (one uniform job to another).

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