From Brecon to the Baltic is a collection of autobiographical narratives recounting the stories of my father as a young man from Llandrindod Wells, a small town in the heart of Radnorshire, and his journey through adversity to the eventual triumph of World War II.
For a long time after the war鈥檚 end, my father would not, or perhaps could not, talk about his experiences during those years; such was the effect that this 鈥榯he second war to end all wars鈥 had on many millions of ex-servicemen throughout the world.
In time, I imagine, the experiences of war become much the same as any other traumatic event that befalls an individual. The good times such as the unparalleled comradeship, the moments of high adrenaline and the pretty girls in exotic places are all highlighted; whilst the fear and memory of a friend鈥檚 death must be confined to a revered corner of the mind.
A few years ago whenever my father and I would go out for a drink on a Friday evening he would, after a pint or two, recount his war years. Unfortunately, it was at a time when we, like many fathers and sons did not always see eye to eye. To be honest, I did not always listen to what he had to say, preferring maybe to think of rock music, fast cars and members of the fairer sex.
It is often said, when referring to aching bones and the like, that old age does not come alone. I can bear witness to the fact that when you are approaching middle age thoughts and aspirations change.
It becomes possible to have an open mind about a myriad of things that in the past may not have seemed worth a second thought.
With this in mind, and with a view to the photographic opportunities of such occasions, I began attending army reunions and parades with my father. I met many of his friends and comrades who were always very considerate, taking the time to relate their experiences with those of my father.
Gradually, I began to see my father as more of a human being with his own strengths and frailties rather than just the person I called dad.
In 1995 we went to s鈥檋ertogenbosch for one such reunion. This will always stand out as being very special. I met some wonderful people, including one lady who, at the age of 17, was shot and invalided whilst serving in the Dutch resistance. During a reunion dinner she gave me a present. I vividly remember the emotion of that moment and thinking 鈥淲hy is this lady giving me a present? - surely this is the wrong way around!鈥
My Father passed away shortly afterwards following a long and courageous fight with ill health which I am sure was typical of his resolve during the war years.
It is for these reasons that I am compelled to submit his account.
To my father, his friends and comrades, thank you.
I shall not forget.
Rob Reynolds
10 July 2005
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