catskillz
Sunday 7th June 2009 1:15am [Edited]
Merseyside
3,395 posts
My Great Uncle joined the T.A. when he'd just turned 18, in 1939, and was called up for service not long after. He went away with a head full of curly hair, and when he returned home years later, his mum didn't even recognise him, as all his hair had fallen out.
He wasn't part of the D-Day landings, in fact he wasn't even in Europe, but I'll tell you about him anyway. He was a dispatch rider, in the Desert. He used to tell me all sorts of stories, e.g. I remember him describing locals sneaking into his tent, in the middle of the night, with knives between their teeth, looking for stuff to steal. Also, one time he was riding across the desert, and he found another dispatch rider, whose bike had broken down, and whose water supply was running low, and he rescued him. I met the man he rescued, when I was about 9, as I'd become friends with his Grandson, purely by chance.
The last time I saw my Great uncle, a couple of years ago, I told him he should write about his experience, but he died soon after.