It is a truth universally acknowledged, that quite often a Dad (or Grandad) would never say much about his experiences in the Forces in WWII after demob in 1946, and actively disliked being questioned about them. This was by no means limited to that war. My own father, though he used to keep me spellbound as a boy with his tales of Nigeria in early Edwardian days (when he had been seconded from the British Army to the Nigeria Regt. as a young SNCO Instructor), told me nothing about his later years in the trenches in 14/18.
Of course, there were many cases where this was perfectly understandable. A prisoner of the Japanese on the Burma railway, for example, captured in Singapore in '42, had no hope of release from his sufferings other than a wretched death after years of beatings, torture, starvation, and overwork. Freedom would come suddenly in August '45, but
he didn't know that, as no one had any inkling of it beforehand. It was natural that survivors of this would need a long time to recover from their three years of living Hell. Many were broken in body and mind, and would have nightmares about it for a long time. Obviously it would be cruel in the extreme to question him about it or to say a word which might awaken terrible memories.
But there were many others who had the good fortune to have had a much less stressful time in the six years of war. For (as has been said somewhere earlier on the "Pilot's Brevet" Thread): "
We each had to fight the war we were given". No two servicemen were given exactly the same war, and there was no choice. You did not choose your war - it chose you ! The surprising thing was that even among this group the same reluctance to speak about it (even to close family) was frequently to be observed. This was so common a behaviour that I feel there must have been some deep psychological basis for it, and it might be interesting to try to find it.
There is no doubt that, in total war such as WWII, the Forces and the civilian population were, in a broad sense, "all in it together". The non-combatants suffered all the hardships of rationing and shortages, the dangers of bombing, the mental strain of being separated from loved ones (for years, and maybe for ever), and all the other disruptions of family life. But all these were additional burdens on a normal daily routine, they did not displace it. The Law and normal civilised conventions remained in force. Apart from those directed into war work, people did the same jobs, lived in the same houses, took the same bus or tram to work through familiar streets, had the same friends and neighbours and used the same shops, cinemas and churches as they had done before. The dangers and difficulties of war were simply "bolted on " to normal life, as it were. I have mentioned before that wartime civilian life in the UK quickly became the "norm"; "before the war" soon became a distant memory; and "Don't you know there's a war on ?" became the stock answer to any grumbler.
But in the Forces it was vastly different. The recruit left behind him, not only the comforts (such as they were) of civilian life, but the whole framework of his former existence. All the old rules and conventions were turned upside down, for example, "
Thou shalt not kill" became "
Kill or be killed !"; a former settled life turned into a gypsy existence, in which you might be sent right across the country, or half way across the world, a helpless pawn in some Great Game which was being played by elemental forces which you could not possibly understand, still less control. You had the novel, salutary experience of realising that other men were actively trying to kill you, and it was your duty to try to kill them.
In place of your former coterie of friends and family, your life was now centred on the other men of your unit, on whom you had absolutely to rely (and who in their turn had to rely on you) to keep alive. It is not surprising that the comradeship which developed in consequence ("
the one great golden thread", as I think of it), which went through Service life, was the one thing that helped to make it all worth while.
And it
was worth while. We knew what we were doing in those years, and that it was all part of winning the war. And the war had to be won for we were fighting an evil thing (if ever a war was a "just war", it was WWII). We believed in what we were doing. Referring to the whole nation, Churchill put it into imperishable words: "
If the British Empire ..... lasts a thousand years, men will still say 'This was their finest hour' ". And for many of us who served, it was
our personal Finest Hour, too. By no means our happiest, or most fortunate, or most successful, or most rewarding, or most satisfying - simply our Finest. We could echo Dickens' Sydney Carton: "
It is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done" (and, as many of us thought when it was all over: "
or will ever do again").
The cumulative force of all these experiences made us feel that we had almost been "on another planet" during our war service. Many of the things we had had to do were distasteful, even shocking or revolting; when we "got back", and tried to explain them to our nearest and dearest, our stories were often met with incredulous horror, anger or disgust: they simply could not comprehend how their husbands, sons or brothers, whom they thought they knew so well, could have been capable of such things. Dad or Grandad soon learned to keep his mouth shut. And there was another, I suppose subconscious, feeling, that our time "away" from life as they knew it was in some way "special" or "precious" (even "sacred", in a way) to us: it would not be "right" to talk about it now that we had left our "planet" and could never return to it. We must close that book, and never open it again.
Reunions, and old comrades' associations proliferated, as for a few hours you could exchange reminiscences with others who knew how things had been and understood why they had been so. You spoke a "common language", as it were, which was incomprehensible to civilians, even to your own family. But, even then, many avoided them, in the belief that we should "savour" our past, but not try to exhume it. Best to let it lie and forget about it.
What do other PPRuNers think about this ?
Danny42C
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ADDENDUM
________
Support for this analysis is contained in the following excerpts which have recently appeared in Posts on the "Gaining a R.A.F. Pilot's Brevet in WWII" Thread in the Military Aviation Forum (
block text mine):
SOURCE
---------
(p.6 #111 - Jun 2008)
------------------------
BRICKHISTORY
...As has been related here, many from that generation are exceedingly reluctant to tell their tales. And far too many of those stories have disappeared forever with the passing of the storytellers.
Having interviewed numerous WWII veterans, British, Canadian, Australian, and American, most had never really talked about their experiences and their families were amazed what quiet, unassuming Dad or even white-haired Granddad had done in his younger days, both on and off duty...
(p.389 #7768)
----------------
(From the memoirs [No.6] of Tempest Pilot Flt.Lt. Jack Stafford (RIP), DFC RNZAF, submitted by
Geriaviator 3.12.15), under the heading:
"A NEWLY MINTED PILOT FINDS ALIENATION AT HOME"
.
..But I could hardly believe the gulf that had opened between me and most of the people with whom I had been so close only 12 months earlier.
My single-minded devotion to the Air Force was beyond them; they could not understand my experiences in the air. At first I was keen to discuss my flying in great detail, but I could not get through to them. Our lives had taken very different paths, and nothing was the same. I found it very hard to accept that their interests were still centred on the weather, the stock, the fragile old fence on the back boundary, who would be at the dance on Saturday night, and so on.
Christ! Didn't they realise what an exciting world it was? If I spoke about life in the Air Force people would listen politely but before long their disinterest became obvious and they would remember that the ewes had to be shifted in the top paddock or business had to be done in town...
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From Google the following:
LIE IN THE DARK AND LISTEN - AIRCREW REMEMBERED
aircrewremembered.com/lie-in-the-dark-and-listen.html
BOMBER BOYS REMEMBERED (Nöel Coward).
(Last triplet):
...Lie in the dark and let them go;
THEIRS IS A WORLD WE'LL NEVER KNOW
Lie in the dark and listen
...
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(p.406 #8120)
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PULSE1'S NEIGHBOUR
...Until now he has always been reluctant to talk about his war experiences for reasons which will become apparent to those who will labour through my attempt to share his story...
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(p.405 #8096)
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TIM00's FATHER
.
.. & never really talked about it...
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(p.406 #8120)
----------------
PULSE1 ON BEHALF OF HIS NEIGHBOUR FRANK
...This left Frank “feeling a bit like a murderer” and with a growing perception of the total brutality of the war in which he was engaged. It is one of several experiences which have led to his reluctance to talk about his wartime experiences...
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And no doubt a more extensive trawl would reveal more examples of a similar nature.... D.