Showing posts with label Second World War. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Second World War. Show all posts
Sunday 10 May 2020
Wednesday 21 November 2018
Monday 3 July 2017
i've found him!
Dear Sheddists,
for several months now I've been piecing together my family history. I would best describe the process as constructing an ever-expanding funnel into the past, with distant ghostly relatives multiplying exponentially before my eyes as I chase down generation after generation.
There have been one or two surprises along the way, including the discovery that a great-great aunt once lived in a house that was subsequently converted into a wool-shop frequented by my dear wife during the early days of our courtship. History truly knitted into place!
But one relative has remained elusive until today, someone I've been trying to find for many years. My late mother always spoke so fondly of her older brother, Malcolm. Not one given to expressing her emotions there was a tear to be seen in the corner of her eye whenever she talked of him. She told me Malcolm had disappeared on his motor-cycle while serving in Singapore during the Second World War. Her biggest regret was that she never knew where he had died.
Well today I found out, and a whole lot more. My early searches had all chased down blind alleys but this afternoon I tried out one combination after another until at last I hit gold. It turns out 'Malcolm' was but one of my late Uncle's three Christian names and from this precious scrap of information I've since discovered he was born in 1913, served in Singapore as an army signalman and died in 1942. His name appears on a commemorative column in Kranji and he left an estate valued at the princely sum of £169 14s 7d to his widow, Kathleen. I've even looked at the house where he lived courtesy of Google maps.
This may not seem much in the great scheme of things but to me it means a lot. Malcolm is a ghostly figure who connects the line of sorrow for my mother between the horrors of a jungle hell to the premature death of her daughter, Hilary beneath the wheels of a passing car. She grieved deeply for them both and in a way it feels like putting some bitter memories to rest.
Rest easy mum, I've found Malcolm.
Yours as ever,
electrofried(mr)
for several months now I've been piecing together my family history. I would best describe the process as constructing an ever-expanding funnel into the past, with distant ghostly relatives multiplying exponentially before my eyes as I chase down generation after generation.
There have been one or two surprises along the way, including the discovery that a great-great aunt once lived in a house that was subsequently converted into a wool-shop frequented by my dear wife during the early days of our courtship. History truly knitted into place!
But one relative has remained elusive until today, someone I've been trying to find for many years. My late mother always spoke so fondly of her older brother, Malcolm. Not one given to expressing her emotions there was a tear to be seen in the corner of her eye whenever she talked of him. She told me Malcolm had disappeared on his motor-cycle while serving in Singapore during the Second World War. Her biggest regret was that she never knew where he had died.
Well today I found out, and a whole lot more. My early searches had all chased down blind alleys but this afternoon I tried out one combination after another until at last I hit gold. It turns out 'Malcolm' was but one of my late Uncle's three Christian names and from this precious scrap of information I've since discovered he was born in 1913, served in Singapore as an army signalman and died in 1942. His name appears on a commemorative column in Kranji and he left an estate valued at the princely sum of £169 14s 7d to his widow, Kathleen. I've even looked at the house where he lived courtesy of Google maps.
This may not seem much in the great scheme of things but to me it means a lot. Malcolm is a ghostly figure who connects the line of sorrow for my mother between the horrors of a jungle hell to the premature death of her daughter, Hilary beneath the wheels of a passing car. She grieved deeply for them both and in a way it feels like putting some bitter memories to rest.
Rest easy mum, I've found Malcolm.
Yours as ever,
electrofried(mr)
Friday 21 April 2017
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