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Those who Served
F/O Kabbash . Royal Air Force navigator 101 Sqd. |
Pte. Herbert J Kammeraad . US Army from Holland, Mi. USA) Dad did not talk to much about it.The few times I could get him to talk
this is what I remeber. They were captured and moved to a guarded barn
the US was shelling the Germans he heard 1 shell go long then 1 go short
the 3rd shell hit the barn, he was on an outside wall it blew him out side
the barn. He said he could not see because of the clay forced up under his
eye lids. Not many men survived the blast. He was moved to pow camp stalag 7a from what I can obtain. He said they were forced to repair train tracks
that the allies bombed. He told about being chain bombed "he said they chain bombs together so the bombs would lay out in a line to desroy more track " Dad said the Germans would run for shelters and leave them their.
He talked about pick axeing the gages in a train engine when the germans were gone.Dad said they made them carry a bucket of grease and a stick to grease train cupplers.He talked about adding a hand full of dirt then covering it with grease.He said towards the end they starved,they fed them
hedge leaf soup and bread made from saw dust.I remember him saying they would trade uniforms with us officers so they could go on work detail. Sometimes the locals would slip the bread and food and this would allow the officers a chance to get more to eat.I think i was 25 years old before
my dad ever talked about it at all and I was born in 1955. I know it affected him deeply. He was looking for a book called Feet Of Clay, I think
it was writen by someone he was captured with. |
Barbara Kane . Timber Corps |
Renee Katz . Land Army from London, East End) My mother was born and brought up in the East End of London, one of a family of five sisters, one brother and a father. Her mother, my maternal grandmother, had died when they were small children. They lived lives of poverty and deprivation, many children had rickets and every large family had one or two baby siblings in the cemetery.
The sons and daughters of working class families of their generation usually stayed near their parental home and continued to live for most of their lives close to where they were born. That is until the war disrupted the pattern of life for these communities.
My mother and her two sisters (the three youngest of the family) were called up. One opted for munitions factory work, but my mother and her youngest sister chose to join the Land Army.
This was a marvellous opportunity for young women who had little opportunity to travel, especially town girls who had no experience of country life. My mother had been a dressmaker; she now found herself living in rural Cambridgeshire, working as a farmer, picking fruit and vegetables. The farms in this part of the world were small-holdings - market gardens mainly.
When she speaks of her time on the land my mum's eyes light up. She loved the work, loved the fresh air and the friendship. Twenty or so girls lived in a village called Willingham in a supervised hostel. They were allocated to local farms and, by and large, cycled to work. Not every girl was happy, but my mother speaks with affection about the farming family who owned, or more likely leased, the farm on which she worked.
She remembers picking tomatoes in greenhouses with rain pounding on the glass roof. She was a town girl who made an effortless transition to country life, susceptible to the beauties of nature and the seasons. What a change for a dressmaker who had spent her working life in slum sweatshops!
There was a good social life as well. My mum was in her mid-twenties and still single and my aunt a little younger. They would cycle into Cambridge on their days off to go dancing at Dorothy's in the centre of Cambridge. (This is now a multiplex cinema). American and British troops stationed nearby outnumbered the girls, so there was no lack of attention. My mum and my aunt first tasted peanut butter and bananas at a dance on the American Service base.
The success of the Yanks did not make them popular with the British boys, who couldn't offer such luxuries. Some of the girls went on to new lives in the USA with American husbands. Imagine the shock and excitement of arriving in America after spending life in, say, domestic service in rural England, or doing factory work in urban slums.
Cycling was the best way to travel. Although there was a curfew for the girls at the hostel, I have gained the impression that they had considerable freedom, or at least managed to escape the overseeing eye of the hostel warden. But it seems that, despite the ample opportunities for fraternising with men, most of the girls abided by the social rules of the day and cycled back to the hostel after an evening out, obedient to the curfew.
Those who went into Cambridge by bus often lodged with families in town if they missed the last bus back to the village. In a war society, being invited to sleep overnight with strangers was the way things happened. The hospitality was provided out of sheer generosity of spirit, and accepted by the girls in innocence. My mum never spoke of unplanned pregnancies, though I imagine they occurred. The war spirit affected everyone. Lifts were given to any soldier and, of course, to Land Girls. Trucks carrying troops would readily stop for the girls, their bicycles hoisted on board, and friendships struck. Romance readily followed.
A prisoner of war camp was sited a few miles out of Cambridge. The Italian troops held there were sent to work on the farms and learned a little English. Their lukewarm commitment to fighting is what my mother remembers most clearly. They had surrendered readily and were biding their time in relatively benign captivity. It is perhaps a tribute to the civilised nature of British society then, that they made no complaints about their treatment. Although my mum can't personally recall any liaisons between Italian prisoners and English girls, they must have happened.
My mother married before the end of the war. Her photograph shows her dressed in a rather splendid smart, short, tailored dress, a lovely violet colour she tells me. The tailored, slightly masculine style, perhaps reflecting the war's demand that women do men's work, was rather flattering. Of course, my mum made the dress herself with whatever materials she could lay her hands on. She left the Land Army before the war ended, when she fell pregnant with my older sister.
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Private John Kay . Army from Errol, Perthshire, Scotland) Iam trying to find some details of my fathers war years. He enlisted at the start of the war aged 20. I know he was in B.E.F. and escaped back to Britain south of Dunkirk near St. Valery. I believe he went AWOL once or twice afterwards. He was in Gibralter for a while, maybe before the invasion of Italy 1943 and was captured around Sorrento during the invasion. He was marched up through Italy and on to a POW camp in Poland until the end of the war. |
Derek Kaye . Army 5th Btn. The Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders |
Donkeyman J. Kearns . Naval Auxiliary Personnel HMS Forfar J Kearns was one of those to survive the sinking of HMS Forfar. |
Greaser John Kearns . Naval Auxiliary Personnel HMS Forfar from Liverpool) (d.2nd Dec 1940) |
John F Keating . US Army 635 Field Artillery Battalion Battery B I am trying to trace Corporal John F Keating who served with Battery B, 635 Field Artillery Battalion, US Army. The address where we used to write to him was Battery B 635FABNAPO17663 C/O US Army. |
Able Seaman John Thomas Keating . Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve HMS Forfar (d.2nd Dec 1940) Keating is listed in the chorus of the revue
"Get Sailing" which was performed onboard the Forfar on the 19th of June 1940. |
Lt. Amy Evalyn Keats . Queen Alexandra Imperial Military Nursing Service Hospital Ship Karoa from Oakley, Hampshire, England) My mother joined the QA's [Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service, now known as the QARANC ] and arrived in India 21st March 1944.
After a time serving in on-shore hospitals she joined the Hospital Ship "Karoa" and participated in the evacuation of wounded soldiers from the Burma Campaigns. The "Karoa" would sail between Madras, Chittagong and Calcutta collecting the wounded out of Chittagong. She remembers spotting 2 periscopes of submarines in the Bay of Bengal but they never fired on the "Karoa" so perhaps it was the Allies or the enemy respecting the Geneva convention.
She made good friends of two other Sisters on board the "Karoa"and each had charge of a level of the Ship. There were four levels: Officers on top deck; British Other Ranks on the next level down; Indian soldiers on the next level; West Africans on the next level and East Africans on the lowest level. My mother was Sister-in-charge of the Officers' Ward; her friend Jane, Sister-in-charge of the Indian Ward and Joyce, Sister-in-charge of the West African ward.
They each remember the visit of Lord Louis Mountbatten and would pass the message on to each other to be ready as he descended to inspect the Wards!
These three Sisters kept up a friendship all their lives. My mother married a British Officer at the end of the War and went to Australia. Joyce returned to Suffolk, England and Jane married and went to live in Canada. The three corresponded over all the years.
Eventually Joyce came out to Australia to visit her son who was married and based in Sydney. She was intending to visit her WW2 friend Amy in Melbourne but unfortunately my mother died only a few days before they ever re-connected.
Joyce met my father and asked if she could have something of my mother's, an ashtray in the form of a brass shoe. The story went that she and my mother had bought one each in a bazaar in India and had pledged to meet on the steps of St Paul's cathedral after the War with their brass shoes! Chance had dictated otherwise and so the story closes here.
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Edward Kelly . My Dad served on HMS Scylla during World War Two. His name was Edward Kelly, and he was on board for the June 1944 D Day landings, Operation Neptune. He was a driver for the Commanding Officer, Admiral Vian. Dad passed away in 1977 when I was only 13, and although he talked to me about his time during the war, I don't remember a great deal. I would love to hear from anyone who may remember him.
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Sgt. John Verdun Kelly . Army The following extracts are from the YMCA Wartime Log Book supplied to Sgt John Verdun Kelley. Captured at Tobruk he passed through various Camps- Derna, Benghazi, PG60 Lucca, PG70, Stalag IVB and Stalag 357. Some of the entries are by Kelley others by "guest" writers.
Benghazi
Barren wastes of stony sand
Dry infertile desert land,
Spiked wire on every hand.
Prisoners of War
Ill clad ,unkempt and underfed,
Trading watches and rings for bread,,
With chilly concrete floors for beds,
Prisoners of War
Queueing for hours in blistering heat,
Receiving a morsal of bread and meat,
Glad, even of scraps to eat,
Prisoners of War.
Crowded together like flocks of sheep,
Bullied and driven from dawn to sleep,
Hearts are filled with hatred deep,
Prisoners of War
Cut off from the news of the outside world,
Sifting truth from taunts that are hurled,
Slightly keeping the flag unfurled,
Prisoners of War.
Striving to keep alive their hope.
Finding at times 'tis beyond their scope,
Drugging themselves with rumour dope
Prisoners of War
Setting new values ion trivial things,
The smell of a flower, a skylark that sings
The beauty,the grace of a butterfly's wing
Prisoners of War
Finding life without freedom is vain
'Tis better to die than live ever in chain,
Thank God! For hope of relief once again,
Prisoners of War
Seeing new meaning in higher things,
In life in Christ and the hope He brings
Thus did they treat the King of Kings
Prisoners of War
Finding at last, if you've the eyes to see
This glorious truth fixed by God's decree,
As long as the soul's unchained you're free.
Prisoners of War
June 23 .We awoke after a cold hungry night. The compound larger than Derna and as we were about 1000 more room to move about .In a separate cage near the gate were a party of Indian troops, used in fatigue work for strengthening the wire .In the other corner was a 40ft tower with machine guns.. Each corner had a water tank (empty) and guards patrolled all sides. We were ordered to form groups of 50 and we became N0o 22. Nothing else happened-it got hotter, more rings etc swapped across the wire for water. Someone paid £2 for a quart. Around 2pm the tanks were filled and after queueing for hours we were given a quart each., a groundsheet and 2 short poles . Rations arrived at 5pm - a tin of bully each and 2 small loaves between 3 men. Eat it all or save some? We had begun the trek down Starvation Road.
More new faces arrived and we hoped to move on- we entered hungry men and left weeks later starving wrecks. More searches-this time anything sharp. A few kept back their jackknives or we would have had no way to open the bully cans. Water ration was increased to 3 pint per day, usual ration arrived at 4pm. The cigarette supply started running out!!! Profiteering took over and cigarettes that were selling for 50 piastres for 50 rose to 10piastres each. The guards realized the opportunity and were soon exchanging cigarettes for clothes etc. Sanitary arrangements were just a row of trenches and the smell would become unbearable. Empty day followed empty day ,bored, dirty ad unshaven the main conversation was about food. At the end of the month the Italians issued cigarettes-2 between 6 men!! By rerolling the dogends we made 2 more.
By July 3 morale was low and sickness high , the MO visited but had nothing to teat anyone. Great excitement on July 6 -the RAF bombed the harbour and again on the 9th , lots of shrapnel falling on the camp but no injuries. Now we were so organised that we could make hot meals at night by soaking dry bread ,adding bully and boiling it up. Fuel was the problem, the guards became unhappy about us ripping pieces off the fence posts. The Indian fatigue troops had plenty but at a cost- 2 cigarettes for a small piece and the price of cigarettes was 5 piastres or a shilling each. Another bombing raid on the 11th and a ship hit in the harbour.
Sunday 12th and a service from a South African Padre, though it must have helped it brought everyone back to thinking of home as they took part in a service knowing family at home were doing the same. We were all given Red Cross Cards to fill in, they were handed in but to this day I never heard of any arriving. By now health was getting poor, walking an effort and dizziness when standing. We were dirty, unshaven and lice started to appear. One by one those who had kept rings etc swapped them with the guards for food-tempted by guards holding up loaves of bread The minds of the guards needed understanding, a good watch worth £5 would get maybe 2 loaves but a cheap ring from the Souk costing pennies would get 5 loaves easily Cigarettes became THE currency and money was used for card games until we found the guards would sell 40 cigarettes for £1 Egyptian. Ersatz coffee was added to our rations but what was it? A Cookhouse was also built but could only feed one compound a hot meal per day so we hot meals every third day.
Our first meal was 17 july a pint stodge of rice peas flavoured with olive oil . this cost us half a tin of bully each. The cooks found the dry rice a valuable trade item and were soon exchanging it for cigarettes. Dysentry broke out amongst the weakest but only the worst cases went to hospital I reckon about 60 died. Daily routine- get up when you felt like it, pass the time somehow until rations were drawn at noon, go to bed early to escape the day. Meals were 9am and 5.30pm and a brew of coffee in between (no milk or sugar)..
July 25 the reality of how weak we had become hit home. New latrines were needed to be dug The labour divided up and each man had 2 minutes of digging to do. Mainy were unable to complete even this.. An escape attempt was made by a couple of guys hanging onto the underside of the rubbish truck, unfortunately this went into the next compound where native SA troops saw the guys and crowding round bending down to look resulted in the 2 heroes retuning in chains for 48 hrs.
On July 27 groups from the next cage started to be moved out . July 31 we were given English bully 1 tin between 2 . We knew we would be soon and had started pooling our food to sustain us on the journey. We eat as much as we could and for the first time since capture I felt full. We paraded at 0330 next day, we had our food and 2 gallons of water why go hungry and thirsty? We were marched to the docks, the water weighed a ton but it was good to see the bombing damage that had been done We embarked on the Rosalino Pilo , although modern she soon took on the look of a slave ship as we were crammed into the holds helped by the Libyans standing on anyones fingers if they were slow on the ladders. More fun was had by throwing buckets of sea water at us through the gratings . The heat was stifling and we dreaded the night, a meal of cold fried bread,bully and water arrived at 11am and we sailed at noon.
Next days rationed were lowered in a bucket at 4pm, tin of bully and a pack of biscuits. We were told next stop was Tripoli then across to Naples. The dysentery cases became so bad that in the end they were allowed on deck. We tried to sleep in the heat with the smell of engine oil and engine noise. It was a long night but as dawn approached the hold was silent save for a few groans and moans when I heard an unknown person playing "solitude" on a mouth organ- knowing my feelings and thoughts I could sympathise with him. We were allowed up on deck at 8am and managed to stay there all day, one man was hauled up unconscious and his body was taken off at Tripoli.. Our 11am meal of biscuits and bully seemed good until we saw the meals being taken to the gun crews who were German even though it was an Iti ship. We reached Tripoli at noon
Sgt John Verdun Kelley
Names in the log book from Benghazi:
- Sgt Taylor
- John Toole
- Dougie Herrage
- Charlie Peace
- Stitch Taylor
- Dodger Green
- Bill Fyfe
- RQMS Bone
- CSM Muldowney
- Sgt Graham
- Sgt Mc Dermott
- Gdsman Hall
- Gdsman Simpson
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Able Seaman. Peter Kelly . Royal Navy HMS Forfar from Placentia Bay, Newfoundland) (d.2nd Dec 1940) I had a brother whom I never met who died with the sinking of the HMS Forfar.
Peter Kelly, son of Clement and Bridget Kelly of Freshwater, Placentia Bay, Newfoundland. He was born July 21, 1919 and died 2nd December 1940 when the Forfar was lost.
I have often wondered how he died, did he drown or was he killed by the explosions.
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Pat Kemp . Land Army When I got to the age of 18 I told my stepfather I wanted to join the WAAF but he said he didn't want me to so I mentioned joining The Women's Land Army and he agreed to that. I had to write to the Labour Officer to get permission to leave the garage. I had a reply which stated that I couldn't leave the garage because the manager would not release me. Every week I asked for my "cards" In the end they said it was only fair to let me go. I had to go to my doctor to see if I was fit enough. He didn't examine me he just said "Do you want to join up? I told him I did. He signed the paper I needed and off I went.
I enlisted in The Women's Land Army in 1943 just before my eighteenth birthday.
The lady who was interviewing told me I couldn't wear my earrings I just glared at her
(Typical 18 year old) and she quickly went on to tell me where I would be stationed
which was a house at Totteridge which we were told belonged to Bassett's Liquorice
Allsorts. When they were giving us our uniforms I told them I would not wear the
corduroy breeches because they were baggy and hung down around the knees so they
gave me a nice pair of olive green gabardine breeches. I was given a pair of boots like
men's so I wouldn't be wearing those either. But I would wear the Wellingtons. The
rest of the uniform was nice. We were given a Cream Shirt, Beige Socks, a Green
Pullover and Tie, Tan Shoes and a Mid Brown Overcoat and Hat and of course the
Boots which I never wore. We had to buy everything else and pay for our keep. The
wages were so low that there was very little left. Lady Denham asked Winston
Churchill to pay us more money_but he refused. We were called the Cinderellas of the
forces.
After a few weeks we were sent from Totteridge to Oaklands Agriculture College at St, Albans Hertfordshire. We were told we would be there for four weeks but it was changed to five weeks because of a proposed visit by the Duchess of Gloucester. We were taught a lot about farming also how to groom a horse. I was given a chicken to hold one day and I could feel it's bones and it made me feel sick and dropped it. Another time I was told to help put some piglets on to a cart by lifting them up by the ear and tail and when I tried it squealed so loud I screamed and dropped that too. On the day of the Duchess visited there was a Ploughing Match. All the men were lined upon their tractors and I had to be the learner on a Caterpillar tractor. The time came for our departure. We climbed onto the lorry. It seemed that we had travelled for so long and getting further and further from London. I looked out the back of the lorry and said "We are in the wilds I don't think I want to stay here". Other girls looked out and moaned too. At last we arrived and when I saw Rowney Priory. I loved it. We were told it was once a Nunnery.
Rowney Priory, nr. Ware, Hertfordshire.
We had Bunk beds but later they were replaced with single iron framed beds. We also had a small wardrobe each. Among the girls with me at Rowney were, Mary Doyle (Mrs Mary Doidge of Buntingford,) Margaret Callaghan (the late Mrs Margaret Aylott of Buntingford , Eileen Parker ( Mrs Eileen Gordge of Oxford, May Robinson ( Mrs May Odegaard of USA), Joan Tiddeman ( Mrs Joan Nichols) of London) Peggy Knott (Mrs Peggy Bull of London.) Sandy Hensher (Mrs Rackstraw of Acton) Elsie Bell (Mrs Elsie Bartlett of High Cross) who was my best friend for 52 years. Sadly she died just before we moved to Buntingford. There were about fifty girls at Rowney Priory.
Pat Kemp (2nd from right on middle row) and friends, outside Rowney Priory.
Every night we were told by the forewoman which farm we were to go to next day. We had to get up early and get on the lorry and the forewoman would drive us and drop us off at various farms. She would also pick us up at the end of the day. In the Summer time we worked until 9 pm or 9.30 pm. Hay Making or Harvesting, so because all the girls were spread around the countryside it took a long time to pick them all up so it was quite late when we all got back to Rowney. It was a rush then to get to the bathrooms to get a bath if you were lucky. We were only alowed 4 Inches of water for a bath like everybody else. Then we would get something to eat and get to bed. At Harvest time we had to stand the sheaves up in groups of six to dry then we would load them on to the cart and then take them off the field where the girls would pass them to the men and they would build a stack. The dirtiest job was Threshing. It was such a dirty job we wore scarves around our heads and across our faces. The dust would get in our eyes and ears and up our noses. When we were on the thresher feeding the wheat into the drum after a while it would draw you towards it so we took it in turns. Although it was very hard work and long hours I liked Haymaking and Harvest time very much but I used to get so mad if I couldn't get a bath right away when we got back "home"
I was working with some new girls and we decided to go to a village pub at lunch time but we had to go across a field to get there. In the field were some cattle and the girls asked me if they were bulls. I said they were and to get across the field they would have to climb over the fence and run for their lives. I watched them running like mad then I walked leisurely across and they realised I had lied to them. They were not bulls they were cows. They swore at me but later saw the funny side of it. One of them said "It will give my mum a laugh when I write and tell her about it".
One day I was going potato picking and when I got off the lorry I looked to see who was with me and I was shocked to see they were new girls. I felt very sorry for them as it was a very hard job to have on your first day. We had a strip each and we had to pick up all the potatoes before the digger came around again. After I had picked up all of mine I looked up to see the girls holding their backs in agony and I thought I would have to help them or their strips wouldn't be finished by the time the digger came around again and the farmer would be no doubt be angry. For the rest of the day I
picked up the potatoes on my strip and then went and helped them to finish theirs. I was getting ready to go back to Rowney when the farmer came to me and said "I have been watching you and you have been working very hard" I grinned at him thinking to myself he must have been hiding somewhere because I hadn't seen him. He gave me some money which was very nice of him. He then asked me if I would work for him all the time. I said "Doing what" He said" Milking "And I laughed and told him I didn't want to milk cows and I didn't know how to. He said I will teach you, just give it a try. I said I would as I knew I could leave if I didn't like it. I got on alright, I got to like the lovely Friesian cows. There was an Italian prisoner of war working at the farm. I cycled to and from the farm, it wasn't very far. It was winter so very dark in the evenings so the farmer told the Italian to cycle back to Rowney with me every night. The trouble was the Italian resented me working at the farm. He moaned at me saying I should not be working there as the job was for men not for women. This continued day after day and one day I yelled at him to stop it. The farmer appeared and said "That's right girl stand up for your self. The Italian was quiet for a while but we were cleaning out the cowshed one day when he started being nasty to me again. He went on and on and he was working just behind me and I got so angry I swung around and punched him in the mouth which began to bleed. He lifted his shovel to hit me, I was scared but I glared at him and said "You dare" He threw his shovel down and walked out. I thought I would have to cycle back to Rowney on my own that night but as I got to the gate the Italian shouted to me to wait for him. Then I began to think he might hit me or kill me in one of the dark lanes. It was pouring with rain so I rode as fast as I could. By the time we arrived we were soaked. I was "home" but he had to cycle back to the farm.
I had three small calves to look after and I was weaning them by getting a bucket of milk and putting my hand in it and then the calf would learn to drink by sucking my finger. I went on leave for two weeks and when I returned to the farm the farmer asked me if I was going to see to my calves. When I got to the shed I saw three big cows. I went back to them and with a look of disdain I said "Where are they then? The farmer was laughing and said to the Italian "I told you she would know they weren't her calves. He told me where they really were I just looked at the Italian with disgust.
At another farm I worked with Mary Doyle. The farmer was very good to us. At harvest time at 5 pm he would bring us tea and sandwiches and every week he would give us a tip. We were there a long time because he had more than one farm and we worked on all of them. I had to go ploughing with one of the men and the plough was to be drawn by a horse. It was a young horse which had not done any work before. I was told I would have to hold him back or he would tear away. It was very hard trying to hold him back as the horse was very strong. He was pulling so hard and his eyes were wild and bulging he was foaming at the mouth. I was so exhausted and relieved when the day was over. My hands were sore and my legs ached so much. Mary became a Ganger which meant if there were 4 girls or more going to Work at a farm she would have to go and work with them and be in charge.
We were hoeing on a farm there were German prisoners of war were hoeing on the other side of the field. It began raining and when it started pouring down hard we rain into the woods at the top of the field and so did the Germans but they ran to where we were. The girls wanted me to say the German words I knew which was only "Ich lebadich mien lielbing" Which someone had told me it me it meant "Kiss me my darling" I said no but they kept on to me so I said it and a German said "Yes please" He then took a book from his pocket and said "Come and sit here with me and I will teach you German" but I wouldn't. I was not going to make friends with any Germans. We should not have spoken to them at all as we had been told not to fraternizse. A long time after we could speak to them as we were working with them. We were threshing one day and there was a German and an Italian. I went to lift a bale of straw but the German stopped me and said "No don't lift anything. We will do it" I was pleased about that as the bales were very heavy.
There were a lot of Americans stationed in the area and we were often invited to the dances at their camps. The dances were held in a hanger and they would put some chalky stuff on the floor and so as we danced it flew all over the place. They would send a lorry for us and would bring us back. When it was time to leave the camp the lorry was stopped at the gate and the military guards would shine their torches and ask if there were any GI's on board and we everybody chorused "No" and when we were out of the gates the GI's would come out from under the seats. There was so much food at the camp and when the women came in form the village to take some of it the GI's would help them pack the food in their carrier bags.
There were some GI's in Hertford and we invited them to Rowney. On the day of the dance they telephoned to ask if someone could go to Hertford and show them the way to Rowney. The girls asked me to go but I said I would not go on my own so Joan Tiddiman said she would come with me. Joan sat with the driver in the Command Car and I sat with the officer in the back and there was a lorry full of GI's following. As we got to Ware crossing we were stopped by a Dewdrop (U.S Military Police) and he told the Officer that they were not allowed to have civilians in a Command Car. The officer told him we were not civilians but he didn't believe him so the officer told him he could ride along with us. The Dewdrop after much bickering let us go. A few weeks later the same Dewdrop came into Ware Drill Hall where the dances were held every Saturday night and asked me for a date. I went out with him for a while and he asked me to write a letter to his mother. I received a reply from her and she said her daughter would like to me to write to her too. That was too close for me. I didn't want to go out with him anymore. I went out with several Americans but I didn't want to get serious with anyone. About eight of us met some Americans and we went out with them most nights. We used to go to a pub named The Green Man at Dane End and we had many good times with them and they always got us back to Rowney by 10.30. They were waiting to go abroad but they didn't know when or where so when they didn't arrive on time one night we thought they had gone and we were very quiet and sad. We got our bikes out to go to the pub and just as we started off we heard the lorry, they had arrived. A few weeks later however they didn't arrive at all. That night there we were very sad and there were tears .We felt so sorry for them and scared fort them. It was D day. The American Military Police were called Dewdrops because their helmets were white.
When the war ended we all put on our uniforms and decided to go to London and celebrate with everybody else but we had to wait for permission. We went and stayed all night singing and dancing. It was such a relief it was great. We went back to Rowney and next day went to work as usual but with a more relaxed feeling.
I had a telephone call from head office asking me to go on a Forewoman's Course. I told them I didn't want to be a Forewoman. The woman talked me into it by telling me I would be paid more money and I would work in the mornings but there were lectures in the afternoon. There were six of us there and we had a great time. I must say though, at the lectures I used to nod off while being told about the rotation of crops and so forth. I went from there to Reed nr Royston. I had to tell the girls which farms they were going to and do the Time Sheets every week and keep everything in check. An elderly man was the lorry driver. I met a few nice chaps there and had some nice times but I didn't want anyone too serious. I had a telephone from Head Office asking me if I would go to a bigger house at Ayot St. Lawrence. I declined and I told them I wanted to go back to Rowney. They said "If you go back there you will be an ordinary land girl again" I told them I didn't care about that and I didn't want to be a Forewoman in the first place. To my delight they told me I could go back to Rowney. It was great to be back.
My eldest sister was married to an American and she wrote to me to tell me they would be home on leave and they had arranged for me to go back with them to the American Zone in Germany for a month but my leave was only for two weeks. I didn't think they would give me two weeks extra but then I was asked to be Forewoman at Rowney. I didn't want to but I said I would if I could have a month's leave. They said yes I could.
My sister, her husband, their little girl and I went across the channel on a cargo boat. They also had the car so we drove through France to Germany. It was very eerie as it was very quiet and dark as we drove all night and I was a bit scared in case we saw any ghosts of soldiers who had been killed in the fields we were passing in the countryside. The Americans had a club there and one day two of the German girls who worked at the club said they were going to Stuttgart and would I like to go with them. I was devastated by what I saw. It had been crushed to the ground. What I saw next shocked me. I saw two soldiers with only stubs left of their legs and they were on pieces of wood and were sort of rowing themselves along. I know our men suffered too but this was the first time I had seen anybody so damaged.
It was time for me to return to England and to Rowney Priory. As we got into the car to go to the station my sister told me all the soldiers in the American club would be on the steps there to wave me Goodbye. I laughed but she said "You wait and see." As we got near the club she told me to stand up with my head through the Sunroof so I did and there they were waving and shouting "Have a good journey Pat and give our love to little old London" My sister told me to get off the train at Paris and go to the bank in the station to get my money changed and then go to another station and get on another train. I got on the train and there were two American girls in the compartment also an English Officer in Tropical uniform. We were chatting and he told me he was going to Turkey. I told him my mother was Turkish. (My father had met my mother in Turkey in the first world war.) When we arrived in Paris he said "Come with me and he took me to the bank in the station and he spoke to them in French and then told me that they didn't change money there. He told me to wait there with the luggage (his and mine) and he would go and fetch his car. When he returned he took me to the other station and I waited in his car while he changed my money. When he came back he said "I have changed your money and booked you a seat on the train so let us go and have some breakfast" We sat outside the cafe and I ate the roll but I didn't know what the thing on the table that looked like one cup on top of another and I just kept on looking at it and feeling embarrassed. He realised I didn't know what to do so he did it for me. I felt so silly but I had never seen anything like it before. After a while he said it was time to go to the station. When we got there we stood on the station platform and I thanked him for all he had done for me and I didn't know what I would have done without him. He put his arms around me and kissed me. We said goodbye and I didn't know his name and nor he mine. I have never forgotten him. He was a gentleman.
I returned to Rowney and as I was to be a forewoman again I had to learn how to drive the lorry. I would have to take the girls to and from work every day. The time came when I thought I had better leave and get a job and somewhere to live as the houses would be closing and I didn't want to go home. Anything would do for a start. I worked in the Feathers Inn for a while. One of the girls boyfriend's was the son of the owner and told me to go there so that I would have somewhere to live too until something else came along. Later on I got a job as a Dental Nurse. I didn't know anything about Dentistry but the Dentist said he would teach me. After a while I was quite pleased when he told me I had learned everything in three months what it took girls two years to learn at the hospital. If I had to do in for an exam though I would never pass as I get too nervous. Once a week we had to go to a Farm where there were "First Offenders" and each time we arrived there they would whistle at me. I always had to wear my "Nurses Uniform" The headmaster would shout at them to help carry the implements that were needed and they scared me sometimes when they would rush to help me.
I had been in the Women's Land Army for 6 years. Although it was very hard work we had lots of laughs and I still have my arm bands also release certificate and the personal message from the Queen signed Elizabeth R. I also still have my Ration Book and Identity Card.
There are families living at Rowney now and I'm sure they must love it there as much as we did. |
Greaser M. Kennedy . Naval Auxiliary Personnel HMS Forfar M. Kennedy survived the sinking of HMS Forfar. |
Thelma Kennedy . Land Army |
Douglas Kenny . 514 Squadron Royal Air Force (d.20th Feb 1944) Doug Kenny was a rear gunner on Lancasters and was killed on 20th Feb 1944. He was my great uncle. I recently went to the Imperial War Museum and they have a database which told me the date he was killed. It prompted me to find out more about his service. I was born on 20th Feb 1964, and as my grandmother always told me I was very much like him, it compels me to learn more about him and his time in the RAF. If anyone has any information I would be really interested and grateful to hear about him and the squadron. |
Asst.Steward John Kent . Merchant Navy SS. Athenia |
Lt Cmdr. James Henry Newton Kenworthy RD. Royal Naval Reserve HMS Forfar (d.2nd Dec 1940) My father, Sub Lt Broadhurst, had written beneath the picture: Lt Commdr J.H.N. Kenworthy RNR. A grand old sailor, a staunch supporter of the merchant service and the RNR. Revelled in Naval tradition, was serving in the cunard at the outbreak of war.
He refused to leave the Captain, who in turn refused to leave the upper bridge and so died. Navigator of the Forfar.
He was 39 years old, son of John and Maud Kenworthy and husband of Sybil Caldwell Kenworthy, of Crewe, Cheshire.
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Frank Tom Kerle . Army Dorset Regiment My father, Frank Tom Kerle, served with the Dorset Regiment from approx 1939 to 1945. When alive he often reflected on his sentry duties and Wyke Regis and along the Kent coast. He took part in the D-Day landings and helped as a stretcher bearer and was injured undertaking these duties. I would love to find more details about my late father's war years. |
Lt G. E. Kernohan . Royal Canadian Navy Volunteer Reserve HMS Forfar Lt Kernohan was one of the survivors when the Forfar was sunk on the 2nd of December 1940 |
Robert Kerns . RAF 166 Squadron from Alberta, Canada) My father, Robert Kerns, a Canadian from Alberta served with 166 Squadron from 1943 to 1945. Dad was a navigator, did his 'tour of ops'and then was promoted to flight sargent with Jim Dunlop's crew. Dad is almost 97 years old and we think the last surviving member of his crew. In south central Alberta, in a ranching town called Nanton, some people hauled an old Lancaster built in Alberta into town in 1985. Since then, the Nanton Lancaster Museum of which we belong, has grown into a world class museum dedicated to Lancasters. We dedicated a plague with a photo of Dad's crew to Nanton. A replica of the noseart from "Beer Barrel," the plane they flew and in which did 118 ops, was painted on a six foot piece of Lancaster 'skin.' When the new wing of the museum is built, this noseart will be hung along with the plagues we gave Nanton. We are endeavouring to preserve the memory of those who flew for the 'freedom' we so casually enjoy today.
Thanks for listening.
Rose Balcom
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Flight Sergeant Robert Kerns . RAF navigator 166 Squadron from Nanton, Alberta) My father, Robert Kerns, a Canadian from Alberta, Canada served with 166 Squadron from 1943 to 1945. Dad was a navigator and did his 'tour of ops' then promoted to flight sergeant with Jim Dunlop's crew. Dad is almost 97 years old and we think the last surviving member of his crew.
In south/central Alberta, in a ranching town called Nanton, some people hauled an old Lancaster built in Alberta, into town in 1985. Since then, the Nanton Lancaster Museum to which we belong, has grown into a world class museum dedicated to Lancasters. We dedicated a plaque with photo of dad's crew to Nanton. When a new wing is built, replica nose art from "Beer Barrel" the plane they flew in which did 118 ops, painted on a six foot piece of Lancaster 'skin' will be hung along with the plaques we gave Nanton. We are endeavouring to preserve the memory of those who flew for the 'freedom' we so casually enjoy today. Thanks for listening |
C.S.M. "Geordie" Kerr . Army 1st btn The Queen's Own Cameron Highlanders |
Midshpmn. Allan Kerr . Royal Naval Reserve HMS Forfar
Thursday, 12th Dec. 1940.
A week ago today, I was one of fifty-nine survivors of H.M.S. Forfar to be landed at Liverpool. At noon on the same day a party of eighty-seven were landed at Oban by the cargo steamer Dunsley and on Saturday 7th a final batch of thirteen were landed at Gourock by H.M.C.S. St. Laurent, thus bringing the total of survivors to the all too slender figure of one hundred and fifty-nine.
On Sunday night, 1st December, I kept the first watch (8 p.m. till midnight). At eleven o’clock that night I entered in the log “2300 – parted company with destroyer escort”. We had received a wireless message giving the position of a torpedoed vessel and had altered course to the Nor’ard to keep clear when we got another message from Admty. telling us to keep well to the South’ard. By eight bells we had made our second alteration of course and everything was running smoothly. I turned over to my relief and best friend Mackay, and his “Cheery-night” is the last word I heard before going below.
It was a black night, with no moon, and the fitful starlight occasionally obscured by cloud. I undressed, said my prayers and turned in quite happily. My sound sleep was soon broken by a terrific crash! Immediately I was awake. “Torpedoed” flashed through my mind and just as quickly I prayed and switched on my light. Never will I forget the eerie silence that prevailed. The engines had stopped and the lights were dimming rapidly. “Action Stations” was sounded on the klaxons, but this seemed to drain the last few dregs from the dynamo for it petered out and all went black.
I pulled on my uniform and an old jersey on top of my pyjamas, a scarf, cap and raincoat as well as the all-important lifebelt. I can still distinctly remember being annoyed when one of my shoe-laces broke as I pulled on my shoes.
I had an electric torch in my raincoat pocket and by the aid of this light I made my way to the bridge. In the lower chart-room I was able to assist Mr. Broadhurst who was holding a light for the navigator, Lt. Cdr. Kenworthy whilst he (the navigator) plotted our exact position on the chart. This was 54? 19’ N, 19? 54’ W. We should have met our convoy in about 40? W so we had got barely half-way. Broadhurst said, “I suppose it was a torpedo, sir?” and Ken answered, “Oh! Yes.” Well, the position having been ascertained I proceeded out on deck to find out what was happening. I was told that the order had been piped “Proceed to boat stations, turn out boats and stand-by.”
I accordingly proceeded to P3, my boat and the lower of the two (P2 & P3). P2 was swung outboard, when it was remembered that the plugs were not in. Meantime, there being no-one, neither officers or men, for P2, I went below to the Prom. deck in search of same. While here I saw the Bos’n and asked his advice on throwing overside the rope-ladders. With the help of Bos’n’s-mate McPhail we payed out one, then A.B. Smith (Corpl. of Gangway) helped in getting the after one over. During these operations, as the ship rolled in the moderate swell, the rush of air up the engine-room ventilators was quite unnerving. It roared up in a screaming crescendo and I had to take a firm grip on myself to prevent my shuddering. I saw Chief Skipper Ladley at this point, with a bag which he told me contained “a bottle o’ w’iskey and a bottle o’ brandy.”
I next proceeded back to the boat deck and there still being no officer in sight, in charge of P2, I went off to the C.B. room in search of Mr. Ascroft whose boat it was. I found him, in shirt-sleeves, packing the surplus C.Bs into Joe’s (Mid. Ormerod) suitcase. I asked him to come along to his boat as the order had now been given to lower same and stand-by the ship. He asked me if I was P2 and I said, “No sir, P3”. He then gave me a small case containing his personal papers, Master’s ticket etc., told me to take charge of P2 and to get going. On returning yet again to the boat deck I found Lt. Machin in charge of P3. He saw I had a torch so he told me to get into P2 and see that the plugs were in. Two seamen and myself were doing this when at 0345 (0445 G.M.T.) there was a crash seemingly right below us and P4 boat, not 10 ft. away, was smashed.
I crouched low while the debris was flying, realised that I was alone in the boat, took fright and jumped out, into P3 directly below. I heard Ashdown sing out that his boat (P4) was smashed and that his crew would just have to muck in with us. I clambered back into P2. At this stage the 3rd torpedo struck, Port side also, deluging us with water which came spewing out of the engine-room vents. etc. Having survived the previous one, we just crouched low and survived this one also, although now thoroughly soaked. The plugs now being in, one seaman manning the for’ard fall and myself the after one, I gave orders to lower away. I bawled out to ’vast lowering as we came level with the Prom. deck. The ship now had a slight list to Port because we hung about 3 ft. out from the ship’s side. I yelled into the blackness of the Prom. deck “Anybody here for P2?” There was no answer as the deck was deserted. I bawled to the lowerers to carry on lowering and we were soon in the water. The after fall unhooked itself as we rose on the swell and we lay alongside made fast by the painter to the Prom. deck.
Men now came down the rope ladders and as she settled some even jumped from the Prom. deck right into the boat. There would be nearly 20 men in the boat now and I was trying to slip the painter when someone in the water screamed my name. I was dripping with oil fuel even now, as the painter was thickly covered in it, however I got good grip of the young fellow who I think was Radio Cadet Fraser. Another chap and myself were endeavouring to haul him inboard when with a shattering roar we went sailing into the air. The fourth torpedo had struck directly below my boat blowing us right out of the water.
I thought this was finish. I can remember being down under and striking out mechanically for the surface. Just previously I had seen a Carley float for’ard of the boat. I swam to this to find the Postie, P.O. Lazenby and L/S Frank Mayo already “on board”. There were many others inside and all round so I just hung on for a while. Even in these circumstances the lads had to laugh at my appearance. Now capless, with hair and face coated thickly in that treacle-like oil I am sure I was an odd sight. While hanging there, Ken Fisher, a coder, came along and he was in a similar state. The time of the 4th torpedo striking us was approx. 0353 (Zone Time).
Two minutes later the 5th and last torpedo struck, again on the Port side. This was the final blow as the ship broke in two owing to the after magazine blowing sky-high. She was well down by the stern now and I remember the ghastly cracklings as the after end bent inwards crushing the decks like matchwood. She heeled quickly over on her Sta’b’d side, the after end disappeared, and as she settled, she turned right over and sank slowly and steadily by the stern. We had paddled like mad to get well away, but as there were twelve of us and only 2 paddles we did not get very far. However, as she turned over on her Sta’b’d side, she went away from us and there was little suction owing to the slow speed at which she finally settled. As the bows slid away for the last time I said, “Well boys, there goes the last of the old Forfar.” I don’t know why I should make such a melodramatic statement, but it didn’t seem right to me that she should make her last exit unannounced.
We could now see many Carley floats all round and men swimming in the water. We managed to paddle clear of the dreadful oil. I now managed to haul myself onto the float so that my chest rested on the side thus taking the weight off my arms. I kept kicking my legs slowly all the time to keep up the circulation.
Some hours had passed, but it was still dark, when to our great joy we heard a steamer blowing. We could dimly discern her lines and we made a big effort to get alongside. I smelt the cooking from her galley and promised the boys food and sleep. Well, paddle as we might we could not make it, but drifted past her bows and off to leeward. We spied our cutter (the Sta’b’d. one) which had a good number on board, and bellowed at her to give us a hand. She came alongside, took two fellows off (O’Brien and McIvor) then pushed off saying she would come back for us.
In attempting to board the cutter, other two of our number lost their lives. By now we were pretty numb with the cold and could do nothing to help them. One fellow had a leg inside the float and the rest of him in the water. L/S Mayo reported this to me, and on ascertaining that he was beyond help we just had to disentangle his leg and push him overside as his weight was a heavy drag.
We hung on and as it grew light we could clearly see the steamer S.S. Dunsley of Whitby, 3,860 tons, owned by Headlan and Sons of Whitby as she steamed around picking the lads up. We were patiently hanging on awaiting our turn. It was springing up blowey now and we tried to keep the float head to wind, then we tried to keep as near the steamer as possible. This however did not prove a task for which we were able in our present state so we drifted further and further away.
What I think would be three hours after we first sighted her, the Dunsley pushed off. It was a most sickening feeling to see her go. Some of the boys would not believe she was going and brave Mayo, although knowing the truth in his heart, informed us that that she was just picking up more of the lads who were “over there”. I too realised the truth but said nothing.
We all felt thoroughly miserable now seeing our only hope steaming away over our horizon. We did not know that the Dunsley had sighted the destroyers away in the distance and was going to enlist their help. I reckon the time then was about 10.30 a.m.
Anyway, there were a number of floats still about, so we didn’t feel too bad, as long as someone else was in the same plight. We attempted to paddle towards what we thought was a boatload of men, but what turned out to be several Carleys lashed together. Then I definitely did see a boat, the now abandoned cutter. For this we paddled and paddled and paddled. Sometimes we seemed a little nearer, I always encouraged this line of thought at any rate. I remember a shower of rain came on and we smiled a lot of twisted smiles, thinking aloud, had we not already had enough? At about 3.30 p.m. a Carley float overtook us in the race for the cutter. I could see that one of the four occupants was my friend John Morrison, who was still wearing his peculiar little Sou’wester with the bow on top.
We hailed them, saying, “If you get to the cutter first, bring her over for us, and if we get there first (what a hope) we will do the same for you.” They waved a cheery acknowledgement and the four of them, with a paddle each, seemed to whizz off like a speedboat. Before long we saw them tumble on board and we saw that someone else had got there too.
Then we espied an aircraft. This also proved very tantalising as she seemed to fly around the horizon and indeed, to do anything but fly over us.
I wondered if she saw. Anyway I cheered up my mates by assuring them that she did. I now believe such to have been the case, for about an hour later what was our joy as she came close over us to be followed by a destroyer. This was quickly followed by the appearance of a second destroyer and we knew at last that our salvation was at hand. How we thanked God, and shouted, one of us jeopardising the lives of us all by standing up and waving a paddle.
By now we were much nearer the cutter whose mast had been stepped and from which hung a signal of distress in the form of somebody’s scarf. To make the rescue work of our destroyers easier, we made a final big effort and at Mayo’s suggestion, manned a paddle between two. Thus, and by dint of counting up to ten many times, we made the cutter, whose occupants, having fed and rested, got out the oars and met us halfway.
Willing hands helped us tumble inboard and presented us with the oiliest, filthiest but most delicious bully-beef and biscuits which I have yet tasted. This we washed down with equally oily and delicious whiskey which was passed from one eager mouth to another with most amusingly audible enjoyment. From other Carleys we now collected Sub. Lieut. Rogers, Engineer Sub. Lieut. Askin, P.O. Gaskell whose leg was broken and who had received a cut on the head. In the company of these and other grinning “coloured gentlemen” we made further inroads in the iron rations and completely drained the whiskey bottle.
We now sat quite happily watching the destroyers as they picked up some of our less fortunate mates, then the great moment arrived when H.M.S. Viscount came alongside, threw us a line and one by one, took us all on board. It was like heaven. The kindly faces and ready, welcoming hands. We staggered along for’a’d where I was taken charge of by a jovial bloke name o’ Woolcock, L/S. He tore the clothes off me, gave me an amazing and scanty assortment of dry ones and proceeded to wipe my face down with a piece of waste soaked in kerosene. I must have been some sight, judging by the colour that waste became.
I was then given a great mug of hot tea, during the consumption of which I learned that “Joe” (Mid. Ormerod) was also on board. As soon as I was dressed I went to seek him out. I found him arrayed, like a Red man, in a blanket. We were both overjoyed at our meeting and stuck together till we finally parted in the station in Liverpool, where we were landed, three days later.
On board the destroyer we were treated most kindly and have many happy memories of our stay there: the sleepless nights with Joe’s elbow in my ear and Donald Lusk’s knees in my stomach, occasionally being trampled by the none-too-small but happily stockinged feet of Big John Connolly. These disturbances together with the “screwey” motion of the ship gave us much to think about, and to discuss!
I mourn the loss of so many splendid men, but I thank God for them, for their grand example and for their memory which I shall always cherish.
Allan W Kerr. |
James Kerr . Navy from Glasgow, Scotland) I have just found out through tracing my tree that my Grandfather James Kerr served on the HMS "Pepperpot" Penelope. My mother always mentioned a story about the ship which mentioned my Grandfathers name in it. By doing some research I have heard of a book called HMS Pepperpot by Ed Gordon. If anyone has this book, or indeed has an information relating to my Grandfather I would love to hear from you, merely to see if he is actually named in it. |
Padre Robert Wallace Kerr . Army Durham Light Infantry I would like any information at all regarding my grandfather's time with the Durham Light Infantry. He was Rev Robert Wallace Kerr, a Padre in WW2, and I would welcome anything someone might remember. |
P.O. Stanley William "Jake" Kerswell . Royal Navy HMS Hunter My father was a survivor of H M S Hunter of Narvik, his name was Stanley William Kerswell and was a Petty Officer. He was known to the crew as 'Jake'. If anyone remembers him please email me. Many Thanks |
Private Ludwig Dominic Kessler . Polish Army Ludwig Kessler was in the polish army. When captured he was wearing a german uniform. He was captured in Belguim/France and was brought to Dover in around 1942/44. He told us that after 24 hours he was back in Polish uniform. He was stationed at Dover, Deal, Edinburgh and Ireland.
Whilst in Dover he was stationed in the Tunnels and was in Dumpy. Although he was never taken back to the tunnels before he passed away, he could describe them to us, his family. We found his initials carved on the walls of one of the tunnels along with other polish names. We have been told by the National Heritage that he would have had to have been of a high rank to have been there, but according to the report he gave to Polish Resettlement he was only a private. We believe he was of higher rank which he let slip on a few occasions. His father and uncle were of a high rank in the Polish Army. His father was Colonel Kessler and his uncle was a Brigadier-General. Can anyone help us to try and trace his records? |
"Ginger" Kett . Army Ginger was in Stalag 8b with my Father, Arthur Booker, if anyone remembers him or his fellow POW's please get in touch.
Editors note: There were two men named Kett in Stalag 8b, Pte A.J.Kett, Devon & Cornwall Light Infantry and Pte. D.G. Kett, Royal West Kent Regt. Does anyone know which is Ginger?
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Ida Keyes . Land Army I was living at Thorpe End near Norwich during the war, on my parents’ farm. On one occasion I had a head-on collision with an American army truck which ran into me in the fog in Salhouse. The American army had bought a field off Sir Edward Stracey who lived in the Hall, and they turned it into an airfield. They had done the same with many landowners. On the occasion of the collision the Americans were travelling on the wrong side of the road. I was taken to the American’s hospital and seen by an American doctor. In the evening the local policeman came round to see me. My vehicle was condemned, but I recovered in a few days. Afterwards I would wake up at night and think about the accident.
I used to collect three German Prisoners of War each day and bring them to my parents’ home to work on the farm. They worked well. When it was time for them to go back one of them cried. I used to take them for breakfast in the morning and mother gave them a jug of tea and lunch. There was a Captain Richardson in charge of them, and he used to book them in and out each day. There is now a church on the site where the Prisoner of War camp used to be – on the West side of the Heartsease Estate near Mousehold.
After a raid I used to drive into Norwich in the blackout to see if my grandparents were alright. They lived on the Plumstead Road near the prison in a bungalow they had had built for them – it was about three miles from where I lived in Thorpe End.
We had a C license to run a vehicle and used to get petrol coupons from Cambridge. We had to apply to Cambridge every month for the license.
We could hear it in Thorpe End when they were bombing Norwich. Carter the builder built out dug-out for us. There were steps that went down into it, and we had real beds in there, so we thought we were safe. They killed a family on the Salhouse Road when their house got a direct hit. They were a wealthy family of bankers.
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Sergeant P F Kills . RAF 460 Squadron |
Steward David King . Naval Auxiliary Personnel HMS Forfar (d.2nd Dec 1940) |
Edward "Ginger" King . RAF 48 Squadron I was a Wireless Operator/Air Gunner on Ansons flying Coastal Command out of Wick. I married WAAF Winifred Holmes, ambulance driver and chief's car driver. Does anyone know me, Win or of the whereabouts of Bob Best? |
W/O Rolph Henry King . RCAF air gunner 77 Sqd. from Windsor, Ontario, Canada) (d.22nd June 1943) Rolph King was an airgunner in the same crew as my father, John Gardner. Rolph lost his life in the early hours of the 22nd of June 1943 when their Lancaster was shot down over Holland. |
P/O Wilf M. Kipp . Royal Canadian Air Force 434 Sqd. from Canada) |
Kirk . WAAF My mother WAAF Kirk was stationed at Ludford Magna and I am very keen to trace archive photographs of crewmen, and other WAAFS who served at this base. |
Sgt George Andrew Kirk . RAAF 460 Sqd. from Malvern, Australia) |
P/O Joseph Henry Kirk . Royal Air Force 21 OTU from Blackpool, Lancashire) (d.4th Feb 1942) |
W/OII B. D. Kirkham . RCAF 419 Sqd. from Canada) Sgt Kirkham was taken POW after Halifax DT616 VR-K was shot down on the 12th of June 1943. He was promoted to Warrant Officer2 whilst in captivity.
The crew were:
- Sgt B.D.Kirkham
- Sgt R.J.Hamilton
- Sgt H.A.Taylor
- Sgt D.B.Whittaker
- Sgt F.J.Callaghan
- Sgt J.A.Mills
- Sgt D.L.Gray
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Sergeant Sheldon E "Bucky" Kline . US Army Medics 5th Infantry Division from Sussex NJ, USA) Sheldon served in the European theatre was on Omaha Beach on D-day, wondering if anyone knew him or knows how I can find any pictures for that division?
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Jozef Kondratiuk . Polish Army My father, Jozef Kondratiuk, was a prisoner in Stalag 6G, and escaped from it in, I think, 1942. At the outbreak of war he had been a student at Lwow University. He was called up to the Polish army as a reservist, and became a POW during the September campaign. After escaping, he made his way to Vichy France (with several adventures on the way), and stayed for some time in Annecy. When the Germans took direct control of this part of France, he evaded them again, crossing the Pyrenees into Spain. Here he was captured again and the Spanish authorities, who were neutral but sympathetic to the Nazis, put him in another camp, known as Miranda. Some time after this there was an agreement between Britain and Spain, and all Allied prisoners, including my father, were delivered into British custody. My father then spent six weeks in Gibraltar before being shipped to the UK. He joined the Polish army in Britain, and spent the rest of the war in Scotland. He remained in England after the war, settling in London. He died in 1985. |
Sgt. Hermus Koomans . Army Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers My Dad, Sgt. Hermanus Koomans was a Dutch Allied
serviceman of the Army's REME. He married my mother Joan Dorreen Jessop who served with the ATS, in 1946. Dad had recently been repatriated from
Belsen POW Camp in Germany. They lived in Holland but later we migrated to Australia.
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M/Sgt. Matthew H. Korzyniowski . US Army 2nd Btn. 172nd Field Artillery Rgt. |
Lieutenant Wladyslaw Kosmider . Polish Army 10th Regiment Infantry from Krepa, Poland) I came across this website and was wondering if anyone would have any information about my father who was a POLISH SOLDIER, fighting against the germans and captured, September 1939, in the September Campaign. He went to POW CAMP, Oflag II A and IIE, from 1939 to 1944, and another camp 1944 to 1945 when liberated by the British.
He worked for the BRITISH ARMY OF THE RHINE, Major General L. M. Weinstock. as a translator, and Polish Military Centre, served as a superintendant with MSO(WS) in 1947, Hamburg area, with Staff Capt Kirby.
I'm not sure of alot, like everyone here, he did not answer questions.
I should have done this inquiry a long long time ago, but with internet, I'm just learning how much is out here.
This is a shot in the dark, but maybe someone was a POW in the same place? Anything would be great help!
thanks so much.
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F/O J. F. Kyle . Royal Air Force 138 Sqd.
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