My WW11 paradox resolved with Dad's Service Records

My Father and Father in Law served in RAF Bomber Command and were both in the 50% of aircrew who survived the war. I am very proud of both of them (both deceased in later years). But my clothing preferences have always been USAF / USN (A2/G1/B10/MA1 etc etc). I have come to terms with this since getting his Service Record and starting to decode all the RAF acronyms(!!) and seeing just how much he, and his fellows, put up with in the cause of saving us. By this, I mean the fact that neither man talked about, or complained, about their experiences; the way that the few relics of Dad's uniform ervice that I played with as a kid(dress holster/belt, flying helmet, forage hat etc) all gradually dispapeared from the familiy home; and the lack of much familiy chat about the War and the years they were away from home (SEAC) . Of course, this wasnt about the RAF at all, this was dealing with stuff and drawing a line under it all.
I guess he would have approved of my interest in Americana as he was a Jazzist in the 50's and was, for a School teacher, quite influenced by the Beats. So, I rest comfortable in my sweats, jeans and Ivy; wear my MA1 and chinos happily; and continue to sport tweed and C&J boots/shoes when in town (!). In the meanwhile, with my Wife, Sister and Son, I'm looking forward to trying to construct the rest their wartime timeline (cant get any more detail than bare bones of postings) from hi-res blow-ups of the records and celebrate the bravery and fortitude of these two young men and all the others.

a lot of the Stories would have been Tragic.

Losing close friends.

Very good point, thanks. They dealt with the certainty of losing comrades and a high probability of losing their own lives daily. All they said were generous generalities like "The Gurkhas were so loyal and Brave" " The Canadians were totally reliable" " The New Zealanders were good blokes" They shielded their families from the horror.

I have known two very close friends who were WWII vets. One from the European Theater via D-Day(just recently placed in convalescence home unfortunately and just lost his wife) and one from the Pacific Theater, who died maybe ten years ago. They didnt know one another but the similarities were striking. Niether would talk about his experiences, nor their awards, only their friends who made it back and that they kept in touch with. I knew all about what they did from either their children or their wives. Both had their outfit pictures out, neither displayed the Silver or bronze stars or the Purple Hearts they both had. One was from D-Day the other from Guadacanal. One drank the other didnt, but at least the one who drank would talk a tad after a "highball"
I bet there was as much PTSsyndrome in WW II as there was in Vietnam but they just didnt talk about it.

Hi

The ONLY story that my Dad told that was in any way bad was about a pilot who wouldn't pay attention to the Weather briefing (Dad was a forecaster). There was a storm that was supposed to hit Finschhafen New Guinea about the time he was supposed to be there. The pilot whistled and looked at the ceiling. Both Dad and the Operations officer asked him to consider an alternate landing site, but nope.

The pilot called in at Finschhafen and asked permission to land, but they never found the plane. Dad always said he didn't feel all that bad about the pilot, but did for the co-pilot and the other crew members in the Mitchell (I think).

Later

At the end of his life, I spent some time alone with my father in law, whilst my wife was resting, and he started chatting reguarly with me about the war, not to his son or daughter. Not so much about the horror but more about the daily stuff of service life and about his colleaques.
Then, I learnt that some years before my own father, at the end of his life, had talked in the same way to my brother in law , rather than to me or to my sister. Again suggesting that the immediate family was still being protected. I am so glad that Simon, my brother in law, was there so Dad could unburden himself a bit at the end.

My Grandad served in the Wester Desert. He never spoke about the War to us (he was invalided out due to ill health). All he told my G-Ma and Mum was that he didn't do anything dangerous, just drove a water truck.

It wasn't until much later that it dawned on them what a dangerous job that was.

My dad was a tail gunner on Lancasters at 17. He never talked about it and it was only after he died that his partner told me that he suffered from terrible guilt over the people he had killed. I keep meaning to get his records.