A Story from a Soldier
TRIBUTE TO WALTER GEORGE EDMONDS
1919 - 2014
(My late father-in-law)
When clearing out Walters flat we came across a story he had written about an incident that happened during the war.
I typed it up and took it to the home ‘Jubilee Gardens’ where Walter spent the last few weeks of his life, he had many health problems and was also suffering with dementia. I asked Walter if he remembered writing his story, he replied “of course I remember”. When I read it out to him he became very emotional and kept nodding his head and was mouthing the words with me.
Walter was a very intelligent, humorous, kind and generous man, he will be lovingly remembered always and I would like to share this story with you...
A SOLDIER’S STORY
It was just an ordinary Monday in the capital city of London, just before dawn. But wait, was it an ordinary day? Was any day ordinary? Days gone, days yet to come, no, no, it was the year of 1943, the forties, the war years. No day, week or year was ordinary, not even life itself.
The all clear had just gone, the sirens dying away.
In the distance, people starting to arouse from the previous nights bombing, yet here outside Euston Station things were unusually quiet, but only for seconds. One streaming mass of humanity came pouring out of every exit from the station. It was like looking over a galaxy of confetti, but no bright colours, a little drab perhaps, navy blue, khaki, light blue and various hues and shades of blue, grey and khaki from our overseas comrades. They spilled out and separated to every part of the compass into this great city, us the crowd, thinned, leaving stragglers wending their way to wherever. One caught the eye of two men walking slowly together, looking very tired. The elder of the two, a man in his fifties, the younger in his mid twenties, walked across the road and stood on the corner deep in conversation.
The elder in RAF uniform clasped the young Soldier, they shook hands and went their separate ways. It was a very sad moment, the RAF man made his way to Victoria Station to catch the Brighton train and then onwards to Shoreham, an R and R airfield, that is Rearm and Refuel. Then on arrival, he’d be straight into his kitchen to prepare breakfast for the young Pilots returning from sorties across the Channel.
Being a Sergeant Major during the 1st World War, this was somewhat different, a RAF Lance Corporal cooking in the kitchen, for his Pilots, was his cup of tea, excuse the pun! He still had his military bearing, but more than this, he was a man, a great man. As for the young Soldier, he made his way back to his depot site, which was in London. He was on a course of engineering at one of the London firms prior to joining the corps of REME, the Royal Electrical, Mechanical Engineering, he passed and later went overseas to help the wheels of war keep turning, working on trucks, tanks and whatever, before D-day.
The two men met up again, at a later date, outside the public house ‘The Load of Hay’ which was located outside Paddington Station, on a Saturday morning. After a couple of beers they caught the train to Birmingham for a weekend reunion with their respective wives. After a very happy weekend of drinking and singing the party was completed by the unexpected appearance of George Canning, home on leave from the Navy, he was the elder man’s nephew. So with a few females from the WRAC the services were completely represented. George was later in life to become Lord Mayor of Birmingham. This was the last wartime leave for the young Soldier, he was sent to the beaches of Normandy.
Wait a moment, how do you know all this? How do I know all this? Listen carefully...
THAT MAN WAS MY FATHER, I WAS HIS SON!
WRITTEN BY: WALTER GEORGE EDMONDS - (A TRUE STORY)
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