- Contributed byÌý
- Norman Percy Adams
- People in story:Ìý
- Norman Adams,George William Adams,Doreen Adams
- Location of story:Ìý
- Tyneside
- Background to story:Ìý
- Civilian
- Article ID:Ìý
- A3201300
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 30 October 2004
I was 17 years old, and an apprentice compositor in a small printing firm when the front door bell rang. I went through to the front office--part of my duties was seeing to customers. What I wasn't expecting to see was a burly soldier, with a stony expression, his face bisected with a huge moustache. I looked at him, he looked at me, still expressionless.
Was it? Could it be? I thought it might be but I wasn't 100 per cent certain. After all, I was only twelve the last time I saw him, three weeks before war was declared.
"Hello Dad" I said rather weakly. Then the moustache split into a huge smile and my young sister stepped out from behind his broad back. He flung his arms around me and said "Hello son".
Post script-the moustache had to go, Mam's orders.
© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.
Recommended story
Story with photo