It happened in the immediate months before D-Day. My routine day started normally until mid-morning when I got a message that someone was waiting for me at the Guardroom. It was there I was astounded to meet my Big Brother Duncan. He had hitched-hiked across England to come and see how I was and if I was all right. My three Brothers, two were married and had left their very young families when they went off to War in September 1939, for they, like me, had been in the Territorial Army but they opted to serve in one of the two local Troops of the Royal Artillery. All three firmly declaring that they were not going to march anywhere and that the Royal Artillery was their best chance to be transported to where they were needed! They were right; their words quickly rung true. During those first three weeks of the War whilst we lived at home, The Royal Scots paraded each morning at the Drill Hall undertook rigorous route marches ‘to get us fit’, never once did I hear of the Gunners doing anything so strenuous like a route march! It was widely rumoured whilst we in the 8th Royal Scots turned up for parade at mobilisation, it was reputed that the local TA men in the Gunner Troops didn’t muster to parade but just rolled down the Drill Hall brae into the Gunnery Shed after pouring out of the nearest pub! Duncan had come to spend the day with me, and I quickly disengaged from all that I had to do. The war, the army and, above all, rank forgotten for a special family moment as the kid brother had to fill in his big brother on all he was doing. I suspected he was on a recce for our Mother and Father that he would have to report. True, we got some staring looks as we socialised but not for a moment were we discomforted, rather the contrary as the family was lovingly and laughingly discussed as we held them in our thoughts and my brother filled me in on the time he and my two other Gunner Brothers were at Dunkirk. It was a lovely being together for these few hours and I could tell he was proud of me, but detected he was anxious for me as I was for him as I thought of his young daughter and son waiting back home. If only the War was over and we could all go home . . . I have never forgotten that day; nor, my loving Brother Duncan who undertook such a chancy trip to be with me. Joe Brown.
good day jo brown.ww2 veteran, yesterday 2:17pm.#1.re:lieut brown reports to gunner brown.thank you for sharing a momemt with your brother in ww2.the memory will never leave you.regards bernard85
Joe I had a similar occasion which made a big difference to both of us - I was in Vienna - and brother Larry was with the RAF in Malta never thinking we would meet- one day trying to catch up on sleep as we are doing the Vienna Tattoo at that time - I was woken by a thunderous knocking on my door on getting up swearing a lot - to find Larry standing at the door he had "borrowed" a pilot and Bomber to land in the Russian sector -- we hadn't seen each other in three years - so what a day - finally wrote the parents in alternate paragraphs which confused them-until they figured it all out Nearly met again at Udine as he had been playing football for the RAF-one day - I got there the next day …. Cheers
Tom: not too many happy memories live on from the War. The surprise visit from my Big Brother was surely one and the other memorable time was the night before I was commissioned. My one 'one' pip already sewn on but covered by a white ribbon I wore as an Officer Cadet. Again it was an other surprise visit. A friend from boyhood and teenage days, now a Pilot-Officer, had made his way across country to join me for a night-before celebration. We said goodbye as the night ended and we never met again, as his Wellington was brought down near Roermond on 23 January 1945. Just 12 miles from where his plane crashed I was wounded two days later by shellfire from the heavy guns positioned in the Seigfreid Line, obviously pre- ranged and deadly accurate on the position we were digging in to consolidate the capture of Heinsberg. Of course, I didn't know at the time but heard of his sad death when I was recuperating back in our home town of Peebles in the Scottish Borders. Just 12 miles from each other and if I had been a few feet one way or the other, we would have met our final destiny close to each other. Instead I have lived to Remember him with love and affection, and to mourn his loss these past seventy years. My family now take it on themselves if they are near to where he lies to lay flowers, as he was an only child and his parents died very soon after he was killed. His DFC gifted to his School in Peebles. Warm regards, Joe.
Joe When Larry and I met in Vienna - the war was over and we both returned home to enjoy life for many years afterwards, Larry dying just two years ago - still a tremendous loss Regards Tom
Lotus Many happy stories could be told alongside the sad ones- once meeting two neighbours on a ship heeding overseas then later to find that one had been killed at Cassino…..happy and sad but that is what this forum is all about… happy to see Troop Leader and Tank commander return from short recce of our next battle very sad to learn that both a few hours later they were dead….…that was our life in those days… Cheers
It reminds me of the story my father (and uncle) told us, a few weeks after landing in France after D Day, my father found out his brother was a couple of mile away. So very late one night my father walked to find his brother, and he did, they shared a tin of, I think he said, peaches and a cup of tea then waked back to his unit. Regards
Lotus well worth the walk - only time we ever saw Peaches 'an cream was when we lost a tank and had to walk to the FDS for another on - they invited us to lunch - THEN we found where all the good food was… Cheers
My dad was on the beach at Dunkirk waiting to be picked up and his youngest brother was on a RN minesweeper engaged in the "picking up." It would have been nice to say they met each other at the time but not so. My dad was eventually picked up and after a couple of days leave rejoined his regiment later serving in India and Burma, the RN lad later on convoy escorts. Both survived the war along with two other serving brothers, one of whom was ashore on D Day with a Royal Signals beach party and the other an ex Chindit. Another brother was unfit for military service and spent the war in a tank factory. Sadly all now deceased.
* Uncanny that one of Joe Brown's threads is commented on a year to the day since he first posted it. RIP Joe Brown... A big miss on this forum!
It's a good story by How true! It's a great personal wartime story that will remain of interest to others for a very long time.
