We'd love to hear about your experiences - either first-hand or the ones you've heard from relatives, friends or anyone who was there at the time.

Visit the World War II website - http://www.discoverychannel.co.uk/web/world-war-2/

I wasn't born until 1948, so obviously I know nothing first hand about the conflict; but my Father survived the war without any serious injuries.
He was part of the B.E.F. in 1940, In the Middle East 1942 - 1943, North Africa at the end of 1943, and India in 1945.
Although he witnessed all these campaigns, he would never talk about any of them; and I know many people don't want to talk about the bad times.
Having said all that: I think you may get a good response to this forum from people who remember the good times that came out of it all.

Regards

Ralph.

As a kid, I would revel in my grandfather's endless stories of WWII. Granted, I would bug him senseless looking for stories, but I'm sure he enjoyed telling them.

Anyway, the one that stands out the most for me wasn't his D-day landing stories nor even his detailed rememberance of the blitz, it was instead the bitter sweet emotions that he experienced when Germany finally surrendered.

He recalled the pure joy and relief that the Germans had finally surrendered unconditionally and was delighted at the prospect of an eventual return home and being reunited with his new wife (my Grandmother). It was however believed at the time that although Germany had caved, that he'd likely be heading for Japan for what was bound to be an even more deadly invasion of the island.

Nothing was made official but he was terrified and gutted at the prospect of going home and then realising he may die on an even more distant battlefield. Then the Americans dropped the nukes and it was all over.

The story stands out to be because he was genuinely conflicted emotionally. He truly was going home this time, but he felt awful that so many had to die at the hands of such a terrible weapon. Bitter sweet as he put it.

My mother grew up in Holland and came to the US after WWII. She lived through the German occupation and joined the Dutch Underground at age 19 after the allies landed in Normandy.

She told me that right after the Germans invited themselves into Holland, her mom was very upset about this and would voice her opinion loudly to anyone who could her. Especially if there were Germans arounde. Grandpa kept telling her to keep it down but she didn't. One day in a restaurant some Germans came in and sat down. Grandma started up. After a minute a German officer came over to their table and, in fluent Dutch, said he knew how she felt and could sympathize had that happened to Germany. He suggested that she might want to keep her opinions to herself in case someone not so sympathetic happened to hear her. He then went back to his table. Mom said the color drained from everybody's face at that point. Grandpa was livid all the way home telling Grandma he told her to keep her mouth shut.

Well, I just uploaded a story and it's not there.

Will post this and see what happens..

Mum and Dad...

I guess the story of my mother and father and their war-time story isn't all that special, they did what the majority of young people did so in that respect it's very ordinary (by the standards of those days).

To mum - Connie - and her sister - Peggy - joining the ATS was a big adventure that got them away from their strict family life in a small village. In fact, my mother first tried to join the WRENs, but her father would not counter-sign her application - so she tried again and forged her father's signature and joined the Army instead.

Mum served with Britian's anti-aircraft defense, on gun sites around London during the Blitz. She was assigned the role of radar prediction, plotting enemy aircraft for the guns (also 'manned' by women of the ATS).


Above: Mum and some old comrades pose on a British 3.5" AA gun of the type they were assigned to. Taken on an ATS reunion in 2002.

Dad, likewise, came from a modest background so it was something of an adventure when he was sent to North Africa as part of the 8th Army.

Dad's role was somewhat prosaic, being assigned to the RASC as part of a team responsible for the dispatch of supplies to the front. However, supplies were a major factor in the fighting during the North Africa campaign, so he always felt proud of his role.

A Mosque and palm trees on the River Nile. Taken by my father during the North African campaign. Circa 1942. A long way from the tenements and poverty of Dundee between the wars, where my Dad spend his younger years.

My grandpa survived from Japanese terror. He was in Burma when Japanese entered the Burmese border. They started to murder the innocent citizens who were clueless about what was happening (most of them were unaware about war as they were illiterate and they didn't had radio)

My grandpa was tortured for 3 days as Japanese thought he was working with British government. My grandpa couldn't speak English and they couldn't speak Hindi. When they realised that he wasn't working for government, they tied his hands and kicked down from a hill. Some locals helped him survive.