My father was a man of few words. He almost never spoke about the Second World War. He lost his older brother flying a bomber out of Malta, his younger brother in a submarine (HMS TRIUMPH) that went missing in the Aegean Sea. He himself was captured at the fall of Tobruk. The war ended in 1945, and my paternal grandfather passed away during February 1946. It could not have been easy, and I regret not being more supportive of my grandmother when I had the opportunity to do so.
This morning I woke up at 5 AM, and once I had sorted the dogs and made myself a cup of coffee, I sat down at my computer and opened my email. The first email I read was from a gentleman who also had a relative aboard the HMS TRIUMPH. He has tirelessly managed a group representing the families of those who had served on the HMS TRIUMPH. He was also interested in putting together an effort to find the resting place of the submarine.
His email took my breath away, another party had found the HMS TRIUMPH and his email included a link to the Greek news paper report.
My response was, "Thank you for that email and the extraordinary message it contained. Thank you too for all the effort you have put into trying to find Η.Μ.S TRIUMPH. I have been up since 5 AM and have enjoyed/appreciated the experiences surrounded by a neighbourhood that is still and quiet. Most appropriate.
What would my father have said? Perhaps the tattoo on his right arm said it all. It was of an anchor, and the scroll beneath the anchor contained one word, "Bill".
