Morning all......

Now here's some thing from me.

Dedicated to my Dad - Albert Raper

Here is a picture of my Dad, in the second world war.
He's on the far right on the second row.

I never knew what he did during the war, he never spoke about it.
Millions of them came back, no therapy, no support. He came back on the Monday and back to work on the Tuesday.

My mum and my Dad brought 6 kids into the world, unfortunately, not all of them survived.

He was far from perfect, but as I get older myself, I recognise the patterns in his personality.
A victim of his past, a survivor of war, a worker, a provider, and like many of those who came back from foreign lands a drinker.

I wish I'd had the chance to ask him the questions I should have, but life got in the way.

He wasn't an easy man to talk to and had a wicked tongue. As time has gone by, I realise I share that trait. I suspect it was all a smokescreen to hide, to defend to deflect.

As a child we see so much, but understand so little. We take everything on face value but do not have the maturity to see below this.

Now, as I read more about PTSD and the struggles of returning soldiers, I realise that my Dad, did more than a "term" of duty, he was at war from the start to finish. I have forgiven him for his faults as I hope those who know me forgive me.

Non of us are perfect, but then again, not many of us have been to war.

God bless Dad....

Albert Raper

Here is a poem to the fallen....

A Poem For No-One

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust

Your transient youth

Is naught but rust

Beneath this mouth

Of broken teeth

White carved signed

With wet grief

Your birth, your death

In one harsh phrase

Belays the cost of those

Dead days

This rest, this place

Eternal sod

Lies told to an

Uncaring God

The truth, the honesty

The killing joke

Is you're not here

Somewhere else, scattered and broke