Dad in the Mediterranean in WWII

My Dad never talked to me about the war. Any information we had was from snippets that came from other people, especially his younger sister, Hilary, who was so proud of him! As we have delved more into the family history in general, we have found that some of the stories that we grew up with had been embellished, forgotten, confused and even made up! I was so pleased that Dad started to write down his stories about his World War II, which he started so that his grandson Tim would get the idea that war was not as heroic as it sounded.I just wish he had lived long enough to finish it.

At the start, he wrote letters to both of us:

"Dear Anne, 
Here are the first two chapters in "Gramps’s War” – I hope you can decipher them. 
Knowing as you do my antipathy to letter writing, you will be surprised to learn that so far it has been fun – how long that will last I don’t know. 
It is surprising how many forgotten episodes suddenly come to life – I think these so far are in the right order. But I expect the next few bits are likely to be less so. 
Equally surprising is how unbelievable some of these happenings are. I mean – 40 inoculations with one needle – I assure you this is true – I was standing watching – and eternally grateful to begin with “C”.
And the Bayonet lunge at my belt – you may think I was very brave – but not a bit of it – I had no idea what he was going to do!
Anyhow, more in due course. We are off to join the Beach Battalion – and become proper Marines.
Fondest Love,
Dad."

“My Dear Timothy,
I have a feeling that when you think of me going off to War, you have a vision of me on a white charger, riding off against the bad guys with banner flying and sword held aloft – or something similar.
Unfortunately, war is not like that. Someone once said that “War is long periods of dead boredom interspersed with short spells of total fear”. This is much nearer the reality.
My war certainly included much boredom, some acute fear but also a great deal of interest, laughter and many slices of luck.
I hope these pages can help to paint you a picture of your Gramps as a much younger man than you ever knew – and certainly not as a hero (far too dangerous!).
Love,
Gramps”