ANZAC Day ~ Lest We Forget

Today, here in New Zealand, it is ANZAC Day, we remember those who fought for our freedom, we remember the fallen, so I'm sharing a post in remembrance of my grandfather, Fighter Pilot Instructor, Vaughan Göthrik Welsby Engström, 1913-1943.


My grandfather was born in Rangitumau, to Kiwi mother, Ellen Mabel Engström née Welsby, who was a school teacher and Swedish father Carl Göthrik Engström, a farmer in the Masterton District of the Lower North Island of New Zealand.


There are a couple of listings online that include references to my grandfather and his service record. My grandfather's rank was Flight Lieutenant and his service number was 41687. A few more details can be found of my grandfather in this online service listing. I also found a listing here, which honours 40 Squadron Blenheim, who my grandfather flew with and was shot down over France with, most becoming POW's. My grandfather was a harrier and my grandmother Hilda retold stories when we were young of his heroic run for days across France to reach safety. The rest of his crew became Prisoners of War and knowing there was nothing he could do to help them, he ran for his life from Normandy to Paris. He reached the air base in Paris and took the last seat on the last plane that was leaving for London before the German invasion. 


It was in England, at the hospital where he was convalescing, that he met my Grandmother Hilda Bennett from Hull, Yorkshire. They met in Matlock Derbyshire, where my grandmother was living and caring for Professor J. Fletcher Ray, author of the book 'The Hand That Drove The Nails'. He had asked my grandmother to accompany him while he visited the hospitalised soldiers in Matlock, to minister to them and raise their spirits. My grandparents met and fell in love and my grandfather proposed, but was a little taken aback when my grandmother declared he'd have to marry the Professor too, because he was elderly and she wouldn't leave him, having promised to care for him until his passing. My grandfather wasn't sure this was what he wanted and they went their seperate ways, but he returned about a year later and declared 'he would marry the Professor too'. They married and were very happy together, Grandma gave birth to twin girls, my mother Barbara and Aunt Christine Engström on January 8th 1943. 


My grandfather was tragically killed taking a young fighter pilot up for his 'last spin' before he was due to receive his 'wings' the following day. The Tiger Moth stalled at the height of a turn and failed to recover, killing my Grandpa and his young trainee, Canadian pilot Walter Donald Williamson on impact. They are buried side by side in Ibstock Cemetery in Leicestershire, England, which my mother and I had an emotional visit to, together a few years back. The accident date was 16th February 1943. My Grandpa was 29 when he died and his student was 20. My mother and aunt were just over 1 month old. The epitaph on my grandfather's grave, as per my grandmother's instructions, reads 'My God, My God, Why?'.


Determined to honour the memory of my grandfather, my stoic grandmother wanted to bring them up in the country my grandfather was born, the country he loved. The Professer had passed and the twins were 3 1/2 years old when Grandma set sail for New Zealand, with her twin girls, on her own.

The World Wars left a legacy of loss and pain, which affected so many lives. I wish I could say we as a race had learnt our lesson, but wars rage on today, some determined to dominate, conquer and kill. I live in hope that the war in Ukraine ends soon, that humankind learn to live and let live. The fighting continues elsewhere too and much like my grandmother I do wonder, in this day and age, 'My God, My God, Why?'.

Our first release at Whimsy this month was a wonderful tribute to all those men and woman who have served, who have fought and lost their lives and who are currently in active service. I've not been able to get any of this stash yet, but wanted to share with you the wonderful creations made by our talented New Release team, honouring those in service and in memory of those we've lost, lest we forget.


I'm keen to get my hands on the lovely stamp set with the poppies as I think it will be beautiful for remembrance cards, but will work for many occasions besides and I do love Poppies. If you've read until the end, thanks for your visit and your patience, this wasn't really a post to include one of my creations, more a sharing of my heart on this day of remembrance. Hugs to you all, Wends xoxo


Comments

I hear you Wends - my father was in the Air force also - as a navigator. He was sent to England after doing patrols in the Pacific for months on end. Apparently he was a matter of months 'too old' to be selected for the Battle of Britain...
He ended up invalided out to Ireland, and eventually got home. In the meantime the Air force 'lost ' him, so the family thought he was a POW or dead... they got a shock when he turned up! My mother included, as they were engaged then.
The new release is wonderful - I too love the poppies!
Blessings
Maxine
Sarah said…
"My God, My God, Why?" indeed Wends. What a beautifully written piece. My Maternal Grandfather was unable to serve in WW2 as he'd had a stroke in early life and my Paternal Pop was a Farmer so reserved occupation. My Great Uncle, however, did serve in the British Army and was captured and POW in Bergen-Belsen. He never spoke of his years there so we deduced from that the atrocities were too much to bring to mind xx
Dawn T said…
A very moving post Wendy. My father in law served in WW2. And yes with all the conflict going at the moment, that question is still relevant.

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