This document is a snapshot of content from a discontinued BBC website, originally published between 2002-2011. It has been made available for archival & research purposes only. Please see the foot of this document for Archive Terms of Use. 27 February 2012 Accessibility help Text only BBC Homepage Home Welcome home Last updated: 08 June 2006 BBC Local North West Things to do People & Places Nature & Outdoors Religion & Ethics Arts & Culture Music TV & Radio Local BBC Sites News Weather Travel Neighbouring Sites Mid North East Related BBC Sites Cymru Gogledd Orllewin David Stanley Roberts from Colwyn Bay experienced a great deal during the war, but nothing will eclipse his final vision as it came to an end. Listen to David's story "I was born to Welsh parents in Wallasey in 1926. I joined the Royal Welch Fusiliers in April 1943 and served continuously until 1969, when I transferred to the Royal Army Pay Corps towards the end of my service. I did my reserve training in South before going over to Normandy in August 1944. I was seen off by the Germans a few weeks later, returned to the UK where I spent some months in Newtown in a holding battalion. On a noticeboard in company office one day there was a request for volunteers to go on a special job to the Far East, so I put my name down and reported to the London District Assembly Centre in 1945. So off we went to Sri Lanka, or Ceylon as it was then, up to Darwin in Northern Australia, over to New Guinea and ending up in Manila in the Philippines where we were attached to the American Army. We were given the job of documenting prisoners of war who'd been held by the Japanese for three and a half years. What would happen is that we would get a signal or phone call that there were 200 more ex POWs coming in and no matter what time of the day or night it was, we were there. We would line them up or sit them down, depending on what they were capable of, take their number, rank, name, next of kin, address and they would be given a billet and a good meal. more from this section Maritime memories Broadcasting Family history Celtic heritage Castles People in Industrial heritage Telford's legacy Black World War II Abolition of slavery Restoration More treasures Useful links more from North West Society and Culture Volunteering Broaden your horizons and give someone a helping hand. Newsletter Sign up for weekly updates to find out what's new on the site. Activities Head for adventure Your guide to pursuits on mountains, rivers and at sea. By this time their health had improved quite dramatically from what they were when they came out of the camps, because the American army had fed them well - maybe too well. They were given tins of peaches and things like that and after three years on just rice their tummies revolted, but they got through it. We would then send off signals to the UK to say Sergeant Jones or Private Roberts is alive and well and we'd get a few replies back to say that Sergeant' Jones' family had been killed by the buzz bombs. To give that news to a soldier who was looking forward to going home was quite dreadful. We'd leave it for the officers to do because they were better equipped to do it. Sardinia: Cymry yn 'ddiogel' Pontio: Dim prif weithredwr Another sad thing was that many were very poorly, so they'd be sent to the local military hospital and one or two of them
died, after all that time. They were so badly gone, they just faded away. We weren't there all that long, just three months, but I want to think that we did a little bit to lift their spirits. One of the lads luckily enough had taken a newspaper with him from England, and this was devoured - it was passed, round and was almost in bits when everyone had finished with it. It was a very rewarding job and I was never sorry I'd volunteered for it. We left at the end of November 1945 to come home with the last batch. We came across the Pacific on an American Liberty ship called the General Brewster and landed in San Francisco and went to Angel Island, across the Bay from Alcatraz, which was a huge American camp. There they made all of us very welcome, especially the ex-pows. We went up to Seattle, then Vancouver before travelling across Canada by train and coming home on the Queen Elizabeth. My lasting memory was catching the train at Paddington station and in the compartment was one of the POWs with whom I'd struck up a friendship. He lived in Shrewsbury, and he said 'Taff - (I am a Taff really!) I hope my wife's waiting for me, I hope she does know I'm coming.' We pulled into Shrewsbury station. He asked me to hold onto his samurai sword and opened the door, and amazingly, right opposite was this lady. I've never, ever seen such happiness on a lady's face, not even on my wife's face when she saw me coming home - it was as though she was aglow, and they just got hold of each other. The guard was blowing the whistle so I said 'hang on', held the train back, got his kit out and off I went. I've never seen him since but it was such a perfect end to a long journey. I'd do it all again. I'd always volunteer for anything. I've got other memories of the war, some very painful, but none like that. I'm glad we did it, went to war, even though we left a good few friends behind in Europe and all over the world. I don't want anyone to ever forget it. We've just had this terrible bombing in London and as a boy I was in the blitz of Liverpool. But they never beat us, any of them."
27 February 2012 Accessibility help Text only BBC Homepage Home How was the war for you? BBC Local North West Things to do People & Places Nature & Outdoors Religion & Ethics Arts & Culture Music TV & Radio Local BBC Sites News Weather Travel Neighbouring Sites Mid North East Related BBC Sites Cymru Gogledd Orllewin Last updated: 31 March 2006 Eleanor Roberts from Garndolbenmaen recalls village life, lodgers and prisoners of war in the 1940s. "My grandchildren recently asked me 'What did you do during the war years grandma'? So here's what I said. I used to live with my grandparents and mother during the war. My grandmother, my mother's mum, was born in 1872 and was privately educated in Miss Rimmer and Miss Katie's school in Caernarfon. I had 15 years of grandma's company and she taught me lots of wisdom. 'Try not to let anyone take advantage of you' was the main thing - my only sex education in those days. My grandfather, Hugh Owen, was a deacon and treasurer of the Methodist chapel. Money counting and banking was done by them both on the farm house kitchen table and I was allowed to watch from a distance. But as it was the Lord's money I was not allowed to touch, just watch the piles of pennies, sixpences and shillings going up in tiny rows beside a long, white paying in book. During the war, the darkness was the worst of all. We had no electricity or gas, and paraffin had to be carried up from the shop in the hamlet. They also sold yeast for making bread and sweets which one had to have coupons for. Mother milked the cows, the waterwheel churned the butter and there were always orders for buttermilk. Old ladies pounced on me on my way to school; 'Tell your mother I want a pound of butter'. more from this section Maritime memories Broadcasting Family history Celtic heritage Castles People in Industrial heritage Telford's legacy Black World War II Abolition of slavery Restoration More treasures Useful links more from North West Arts Be inspired Release your creativity with a look at local art and artists. Find out what the empirebuilding legions got up to. Entertainment Days and nights out Find events for all ages, indoors and out, all year round. Mother once bought some material from the local woollen mill to make me a dress. We went through the upland village to the dressmaker's longhouse where two sisters lived, Kate and Laura Pritchard. Kate sewed and Laura farmed, milked the cows, fed the calves and supplied Kate's customers with tea and cake after each fitting session - the real treat of the whole saga for me. Apart from the cake, I hated it. Miss Kate used to command me to 'turn round, turn round' with pins in her hands and mouth and she used to pin where I could not see. I didn't like that. Sardinia: Cymry yn 'ddiogel' Pontio: Dim prif weithredwr
Then it was out of their home in total darkness, down the lanes, mother in front with me in tow. Crash bang, my poor skin was stuck on the stone wall, blood and tears. I hate new clothes to this very day and no wonder, it was a bad experience. The childless local vicar and his wife also had two boys to stay, named Harry and Tommy Oaks. They learned Welsh in no time, knocking on grandma's door saying 'Give us some sugar sandwiches', quite abruptly. She was not used to such demands. More than likely the pair at the vicarage had no idea of growing boys' appetites. Grandma also let her front room to a Miss Lewis, a cook and a native of Britton Ferry, south. Miss Lewis was bombed out of her place in London and not on good terms with her family, though her niece, Mrs Blake, did come to visit from London. They spoke no Welsh. When on her own in the long winter evenings, Miss Lewis would ask me to a meal with her. No water was allowed with the meal. Games followed, like 'hide the penny'. So as not to cheat, my head was covered with a newspaper, but Miss Lewis let off lots of wind. I would follow the trail and find the penny and be given one or two wine gums as a prize. Christmas came. Mother never gave me a reason to wait for Santa Claus - she said he was non-existent, and that was it. She'd had such a shock at eight years of age when told by a manservant it was a myth that she didn't let me believe in him. But Miss Lewis said to me there was a Santa and I had to be in bed early. I went but could not sleep. Up and down they came. Miss Lewis, like all cooks, was heavy - you could hear her far away, struggling up the stairs. When I woke up handmade gifts by Mr Blake were in a pillowcase beside my bed, including a soft toy monkey with red trousers and a small pipe. I had him for years. On her seventh birthday, Mrs Blake was given a Germanmade doll, all smartly dressed in purple velvet. On my seventh birthday she gave it to me - it's a family heirloom today. The German prisoners came to work on the farms from the camps nearby. Grandpa was very glad of some help on the farm. Our hand, Max Schwarz, could speak very little English and neither could we, being Welsh speakers and thinkers. On Max's birthday on May 22 grandma made pancakes. He was happy to have the treat with butter and lemon and jam. Max came to see us 40 years on and said 'in Mr Owen's words, I'm as weak as a cat'. It's what my grandpa used to
say - it's an old Welsh saying and Max still remembered it. We had to go to chapel three times on a Sunday, walking there and back, and were given tea by kind friends. We had to learn verses and hymns and look up to our elders. Max asked me once what we learnt, how could I explain about the Mount of Olives to him in my English? But I did remember a little poem in Welsh. Grandma would not have the words 'shit or vomit' spoken in her house - there were better ones than those in Welsh. One would not dare say 'shit', but Max was eager to hear about religion. So I taught him a Welsh poem that translated comes to 'Dog shit, cat shit, pig shit - all the same'. But of all the people he could have recited it to, Max went to grandma! Dear me, I cannot remember the consequences, but Max recited it in perfect Welsh to us all 40 years hence."
27 February 2012 Accessibility help Text only BBC Homepage Home Keeping watch BBC Local North West Things to do People & Places Nature & Outdoors Religion & Ethics Arts & Culture Music TV & Radio Local BBC Sites News Weather Travel Neighbouring Sites Mid North East Related BBC Sites Cymru Gogledd Orllewin Last updated: 18 May 2006 The important job of stopping vital Army reserves from being pilfered fell to Raymond Davies from Holyhead and his comrades in the 8th Army. I was away in the Army from September 1939 to April 1946, serving in Egypt, Palestine and North Africa. But I began in Northern Ireland with 16 months training with the 6th Battalion Royal Welch Fusiliers, D Company - the local company of Holyhead. We were known as the Holyhead boys, but then lots of us were scattered when we returned to England. When I returned, I was transferred to a newly formed unit, the Army Fire Brigade - a special unit for deployment to the Middle East. Mr Churchill was very concerned about the great loss of the reserve ammunition, petrol and oil in the Middle East - millions of tons of stuff was being lost by enemy action or sabotage. So we were sent out there in connection with the 8th Army. We looked after the reserve oil and petrol which was piped from Haifa in Palestine. I was in number 3 base ordinance depot, stationed all over Egypt and Palestine. We were often attacked by Arab gangs, often led by German officers who'd try to crawl under the barbed wire and sabotage our reserves. Some of them were experts at setting fire to things but they'd also pilfer things from us too more from this section Maritime memories Broadcasting Family history Celtic heritage Castles People in Industrial heritage Telford's legacy Black World War II Abolition of slavery Restoration More treasures Useful links more from North West Nature Going wild Get under the skin of Snowdonia wildlife and habitats. Hall of Fame Public life Meet heroes and historic figures raised in the region. Eye on the ball Find out where you can watch or get involved in sport. I was there until 1946 - there was plenty of activity after the end of the war because the Jewish and Arab terrorists were fighting each other so we had to stay and try to keep the peace between them. Tai Hanesyddol O blastai crand i ffermydd gwledig, camwch dros drothwy rhai o dai mwyaf hanesyddol yr ardal When I did come home, I returned to my old job as a house painter. Holyhead had changed since I'd been away, but there was plenty of work, especially during the summertime. Unfortunately, our bosses used to give us the indoor jobs in the summer so some of us had to be laid off during the winter, which wasn't very clever.