True WWII story

[Dixie]

My grandfather was still a young boy during WW2, he grew up in Lincolnshire in the midst of several bomber airfields.  Plenty of crashed aircraft were around back then and he and a couple of friends were shown around a crashed Wellington (from an OTU I believe).  The pilot showed them around and showed them how to fly it, which is when my grandfather questioned the flying skill of the pilot as he'd pranged his kite...


I think one of my great-uncles was with the Desert Rats in North Africa.  I've heard stories of him being left behind during a retreat and being picked up later.  I'll have to check with my grandmother later.

[crossy]

Hey folks,

Long time lurker here, but I feel like I might finally have something to add! [:)] A couple of family stories from WWII:

1. My grandmother's brother was killed on the Mt. Hood. (I guess that's really not much of a story, huh?)

2. My wife's grandfather had quite the interesting war career. He started the war commanding a tank under Patton. He was wounded in North Africa but returned for the invasion of Sicily. After that, he was rotated home and served in a training capacity at Fort Knox. He said that while there he and the other veterans were supposed to teach the official army doctrine, which stated that the Sherman could go toe-to-toe with all the German tanks. Having been there, they knew this was b.s. So they ignored their c.o. and taught the men what they needed to know to survive. He said the only tricky part was when the c.o. would drop by the classroom - he'd have to quickly switch to the official doctrine until the guy left.

Towards or at the end of the war he was tabbed for special duty since he held a law degree. He went over to Nuremberg and served with the American delegation. Got to interview a bunch of the surviving bigwigs, including Goering.

[ChezDaJez]

My grandfather was still a young boy during WW2, he grew up in Lincolnshire in the midst of several bomber airfields. Plenty of crashed aircraft were around back then and he and a couple of friends were shown around a crashed Wellington (from an OTU I believe). The pilot showed them around and showed them how to fly it, which is when my grandfather questioned the flying skill of the pilot as he'd pranged his kite...

My mother was born and raised in Middleton, near Manchester, England. She was 8 when the war started. She told of her and her brother being evacuated to the countryside to live with strangers in early 1940. Her mother couldn't stand to be apart from them so she had Mom brought back to Middleton in May 1940. In October 1940, she was at school when the airraid warning sounded. She, along with the other kids, ran for the airraid shelter. All the antiaircraft batteries in town had opened up on an aircraft flying low and fast and she was hit in the left calf by either a spent machinegun bullet or piece of antiaircraft shrapnel. It took a large chunk of flesh out of her calf and she carried that scar the rest of her life.

One of the other things that really affected her from the war was the memory of the severe food rationing that England was forced to do. She was always afraid that there wouldn't be enough food to go around and always ate like a bird even after moving to America in 1952. There were never second helpings at our dinner table. She used to make jam buttees for our lunches when I was young and I swear there was never any jam or butter on that bread! When my mother passed away in 2003, she weighed 78lbs. She never weighed more than 100 pounds in her life.

Chez

[ilovestrategy]

ORIGINAL: crossy


2. My wife's grandfather had quite the interesting war career. He started the war commanding a tank under Patton. He was wounded in North Africa but returned for the invasion of Sicily. After that, he was rotated home and served in a training capacity at Fort Knox. He said that while there he and the other veterans were supposed to teach the official army doctrine, which stated that the Sherman could go toe-to-toe with all the German tanks. Having been there, they knew this was b.s. So they ignored their c.o. and taught the men what they needed to know to survive. He said the only tricky part was when the c.o. would drop by the classroom - he'd have to quickly switch to the official doctrine until the guy left.

Towards or at the end of the war he was tabbed for special duty since he held a law degree. He went over to Nuremberg and served with the American delegation. Got to interview a bunch of the surviving bigwigs, including Goering.

That's amazing!

[ilovestrategy]

ORIGINAL: JWE



He walked out of the hospital, and across Spain, and across France, and up to his door in Wiesbaden: knock, knock, "Frieda, Es ist ich, Otto. Ich bin hier, meine Liebe."

What does that mean in English? I'm guessing it means "Frieda, it's me!"

[mc3744]

Frieda, It's me, Otto. I'm here, my love.
[:)]

[ilovestrategy]

Thank you Mc! [:)]

[makulator1968]

My Granduncle fought in 2 wars.
He was an Arttillerieman in ww1 fighting against the Serbs in Serbia
In WW2 he was conscripted to the Volkssturm to defend fortress Breslau against the Soviet Forces.
After imprisonment in a russian POW camp he was forced to leave silesia and began an new life in Bavaria.
He had quite some interesting storys to tell.
He died 1998 at the age of 99 years...born 1899 in Silesia.

[CV 2]

ORIGINAL: ilovestrategy

ORIGINAL: JWE



He walked out of the hospital, and across Spain, and across France, and up to his door in Wiesbaden: knock, knock, "Frieda, Es ist ich, Otto. Ich bin hier, meine Liebe."

What does that mean in English? I'm guessing it means "Frieda, it's me!"

Frieda, it is I, Otto. I am here, my love.

[RHoenig]

My granddad served in the german army. At first he was an instructor and later on got transfered to the eastern front. He didn´t tell a whole lot about his time in the war, but his unit was put on one of the flanks of the Kursk offensive.
I guess, I can thank the Battle of the Bulge offensive, for him making it out of the war alive, as his unit was transfered to the west in order to, again, cover a flank of this offensive and this was, where he was taken prisoner (he served as VB, Vorgeschobenener Beobachter (basicly artillery spotter) for his battery of infantry guns).

One thing always stuck in my memory.
He said, that even in 1944, he was absolutely sure, Germany would win the war in the end. Then, after capture, he was marched to the french coast. While they marched towards the coast, they were passed in the other directions of seemingly endless columns of tanks and trucks and guns. Dozens, hundreds, thousands in his mind. This was when he went: "Ooooh kaaay, I don´t think we´ll gonna win this after all!"

He pulucked cotton in Texas for a year and a half or so, and then worked on a french farm for another year before returning to my grandma in late 1946

Note: While my granddad belived in "us" winning the war, _his_ dad, my great-granddad, didn´t. He used to put up a worldmap, pointing at all the countries, Germany was at war with, and asked my granddad, if he realy believed, this tiny Germany could beat all those countries.

[JWE]

ORIGINAL: makulator1968

My Granduncle fought in 2 wars.
He was an Arttillerieman in ww1 fighting against the Serbs in Serbia
In WW2 he was conscripted to the Volkssturm to defend fortress Breslau against the Soviet Forces.
After imprisonment in a russian POW camp he was forced to leave silesia and began an new life in Bavaria.
He had quite some interesting storys to tell.
He died 1998 at the age of 99 years...born 1899 in Silesia.

JWE is away working and he lets me use his login today, so it is me MO (Osterhaut) now.

I have a far uncle who served with German army in World War 2. There was Dutch units who volunteered to fight against the Socialist enemy but they were not used in honest ways. His friends were killed in Russia and he was almost killed at Market Garden when he was a AA gunner at Elst. I never knew him except for 10 years ago when I visited Netherlands from the Antilles. I always grew hating Nazis and what they mean and now I have a family who was in the Nazi Army and his name was Osterhaut too. I talked to him and I now understand so much. We cried in companionship even if I am not a soldier. He dies two years later and cannot be put in a family burying plot. I would like to bring him to Saba but that is hard so he will have to stay. Much of old truth is now lost with new correct thought but I will remember Jacob (Jaap) Osterhaut in a kind way.

MO