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My father, Ron Coverdale, was a rear gunner (Tail end Charlie) in a Lancaster bomber. He volunteered for service even though he was in a “safe” job — train driver.
The following two short stories epitomise my father’s attitude/experience during WW2:
1. Brought up in the era of “Hotspur” and “Victor” comics, my brother Neil and I were often asking Dad about the war. He never spoke about the fighting but told us great/funny stories about the people and the tricks they got up to. So we were very surprised when one day we asked if he had ever seen a German night fighter on any of his bombing missions. He replied that he had. We couldn’t believe our ears. Typically gun ho, “Did you shoot it down?” we asked. “No” was the reply. “Oh you missed” we said. “No” he stated flatly. “How come?” we asked. “He was going the other way — why should I attract attention to us?” At the time we were puzzled but later realised how humane and wise his statement was.
2. Years later (after Dad retired from the railways) Mam and Dad were on holiday in Italy. They went on a sailing tour for the day with a group of young Dutch people on board. Dad was sat with feet dangling in the sea. We often joked that he looked liked a German and one of the Dutch people asked if he was. Having explained that he was English, the young lady and Dad exchanged information on where they lived etc. Dad made a passing remark that he had flown over their village during the war in “Operation Manna” (RAF bombers dropped food to starving Dutch people cut off by the fighting). She was very excited by this information and shouted to her friends. What followed still brings a lump to my throat/tears to my eyes. The story of the food drop had been passed down the generations and the young Dutch people treated Dad as a hero. He was moved to tears and fair choked by their adulation.
I think that the above stories describe how ordinary people carried out extraordinary tasks yet, almost unbelievably, still kept their humanity.
Steve Coverdale.

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