My uncle Terry went out to fight in WW2 the place I don’t know for certain, but they ran out of ammunition for their weapons and were told to roll the guns over a cliff and then surrender. This they did and he was taken into a camp in Italy. Terry was not keen on this and managed to escape into the Italian countryside, along with another Englishman and a young German deserter. They found themselves in an area of caves, it must have been summer as there was a profusion of wild berries to eat. They used one cave to sleep in or hide and a second one as a toilet, this was much used as their diet consisted of berries and more berries. One day while Terry was in the toilet cave a German patrol came by and spotted his companions. Terry heard a commotion going on and stayed hidden, his companions did not let on that there was a third escapee. He was now alone with no Italian knowledge and with deteriorating health due to the poor diet.

 He decided to seek help from a local family who took him in at great risk to themselves. They fed him and kept him hidden until he was well enough to leave. While making his way across Italy he walked into what he thought was a large force of German soldiers. Strangely they did not approach him he knew that they could shoot him if he ran so he raised his arms and surrendered. Still the soldiers did not speak but just watched as he walked towards them. As he got close to them they all smiled and greeted him as friendly Americans are prone to do he had mistaken them for Germans because of the shape of their helmets.

When he asked why they did not speak they explained that he had just walked through the minefield they were laying, they did not want to shout to him as he may have panicked. They thought it better that he did not know.

The young deserter that he escaped with was shot. This was the second escape that Terry made from the Germans.

Sometime later after the war he was asked about his lack of medals he explained that he was not given any and was told he could apply for them. His response was if they can’t give them to me I’m not going to bloody-well ask for them. He spent a bit of time after the war having a problem adjusting to being home. Then settled down and had a large family he loved his kids and they could do no wrong in his eyes. He taught me to ride a motorbike when I was fourteen while I was holidaying with them. A 1940,s Matchless 350cc single cylinder ex-army despatch riders machine.

He was my mum’s favourite brother I think, and my favourite uncle.