Following his heroic effort to raise more than thirty million pounds for the National Health Service during the pandemic, it came as no surprise that Captain Tom Moore deservedly received a knighthood. His humanity and stoicism in the face of adversity has caused him to become a grandfather figure to the British nation. The twinkle in his eye, clipped military moustache and withered, yet dignified appearance caused me to reflect on my own Grandpa.
Captain Tom Moore’s humanity and stoicism caused me to reflect on my own Grandpa
Every year on 11th November he would sit in his armchair on his own and watch the Remembrance Service at the Cenotaph from beginning to end. My mother recalled as a child that she and her brothers were only allowed to join him in silence. This was one of the rare occasions he remembered the events of the war and those friends and comrades who didn’t survive. Grandpa was a very modest man but before he died, he spoke of his experiences only once, to my uncle and after much persuasion.
In 1936, Grandpa was recruited to a Territorial Artillery regiment on the strength of his golf handicap. Unlike today there was no psychometric testing to select potential officers for the King’s Army. In April 1940, his regiment joined ‘Rupert Force’ and was sent to Norway to help defend against the German invasion. The expedition was a failure and the Force was evacuated. His return voyage across the North Sea turned out to be a lucky one. The following convoy was attacked by submarines and the aircraft carrier HMS Glorious, was intercepted and sunk. About 900 hundred sailors lost their lives.
By October, he was in Egypt. His regiment joined the famed 7th Armoured Division for their advance into Libya to expel Italian forces, who were threatening Egypt and the Suez Canal. They made rapid progress until they were ordered to hand over their field guns to a British expeditionary force that was being sent to Greece to halt the German invasion there. Then, the German Africa Corps arrived in Libya to halt the British advance.
‘In exchange for our lethal guns we were given vintage World War I replacements. When German tanks appeared, our shells bounced off their armour,’ he said. After a series of retreats, Grandpa and his comrades found themselves bottled up in the Siege of Tobruk – a rat and fly infested supply dump and seaport in Libya. Here, they survived or died under incessant ground and aerial attack.
As a child I never questioned why Grandpa had a string of initials after his name. He was simply Grandpa. It was only after his death that my uncle explained MC stood for Military Cross and that he had won this medal for exemplary gallantry at Tobruk.
ArrayAt the height of one action he’d gone out under a frenzy of shell and small arms fire to relieve his sergeant-major, who had come under attack at his Observation Point (OP). Grandpa set out on foot to relieve him, and on his way called the OP, but his call was answered in German.
By midnight Grandpa was cut off and trapped in no man’s land, which was heavily mined and swept by fire. He felt sure another attack would come at first light, so he established a new OP. The attack he predicted came and his reports back to his guns in the rear led the Germans to lose sixty tanks and denied them capturing Tobruk. He was seriously wounded and withdrawn from the desert never to see action again.
My mother has kept many of Grandpa’s belongings, carefully wrapped in small brown boxes. It’s difficult to treat them as real when imagining the tragedy they’ve seen. Among these is a prayer book that Grandpa kept in his top pocket throughout the fighting. It had been a gift from his godfather who had served in WW1. The positioning of this prayer book could well have been a matter of life or death as it contains a sharp piece of shrapnel wedged into its pages.
In another box, I found a blood-spattered page titled ‘Life’. My uncle tells me he also carried this with him. It reads as follows:
Man comes into this world without his consent and leaves it against his will; on earth he is misjudged and misunderstood. In infancy he is an angel; in boyhood he is a devil; in manhood he is a fool. If he has a family and children he is a chump. If he is a bachelor he is unhuman and mean. If he enters a public house he is a drunkard. If he stops out he is a temperance fanatic and a miser. If he is a poor man he has no brains. If he is rich he has all the luck in the world and a crook. If he has brains he is considered too smart. If he goes to church he is a hypocrite; if he stays away he is a sinful man. If he gives to charity or does a good turn it is for advertisement – if he does not he is stingy and mean. When he comes into the world everybody wants to kiss him; before he goes out everybody wants to kick him. If he dies young there was a great future before him – if he lives to a ripe old age everyone hopes he has made a will. It is therefore impossible to please anyone so do your duty and be fearless, use your own common sense and even if you do make a mistake it is better than doing nothing. Keep smiling as nobody wants to hear about your troubles, they have waggon loads of their own.
Why Grandpa should have kept such a profound document I don’t know. Perhaps as a beacon to guide him through the dark days of war. In these difficult times, it’s worthy of publication today.