by Janis / 2 comments - Orginally published:10th March 2020
Is this where my love of travel stems from?
I feel that this personal story of my Grandad’s World War II journey, through the lens of his old Coronet camera, may be more for my benefit, than yours.
However, for anyone that shares my love of history (particularly family or military history), photography and travel. As well as the closeness that only comradery in battle can bring will hopefully enjoy this read.
Why not Pin it for later?
From a young lad to a Grandad
Most of us nowadays have a smartphone with a camera, that within the blink of an eye you’ve captured that ideal shot. It’s there stored to memory for as long as we wish, the image is crisp, perfectly aligned and nobody’s head is chopped out of the picture.
Job done! Yep, “Bob’s your uncle”, well he’s my Grandad actually but let’s not be picky.
Robert 'Pop' Bailey
To the Army, my Grandad was Robert, to his mates he was Bob, although, to my brother and me, he was ‘Pop’.
Pop would always be winding us up one way or another, so, the antics he and his mates must have got up to during army downtime, I shudder to think.
Pop and Buddies
Pop in uniform
The Coronet Camera
Well, the reason this post has come about is that my parents are moving to a new house and are having a bit of a de-clutter. They came across the very travel-weary Coronet camera which my Grandad must have purchased in 1940 when he enlisted.
A compact travel camera - from the 2nd World War
This particular model of the Coronet camera folded flat, the bellow lens popped back in, and it was only about two inches in depth. The Birmingham based company produced them to be pretty hardy and reasonably cheap, 48 shillings was about the going rate.
Great Sphinx of Giza, Eygpt
The camera turned out to be very sturdy as Pop ended up heading to El Alamein, Monte Cassino and Greece (where he became a Prisoner of War, more on that later).
My Grandad was in the 23rd Armoured Brigade, which like so many other divisions, brigades and units, they were often part of a larger hierarchy. In the case of the 23rd Armoured Brigade, it was part of the 8th Army.
The 8th Army had a few different Commanders during the Second World War, the most well-known, was probably Bernard Montgomery ‘Monty’.
A statue to ‘Monty’
Our copy of the Eighth Army by Robin Neillands
The nostalgic photo album
I have spent time carefully pondering over Pop’s photo album. Gazing at each black and white photo, from his time around the Mediterranean and North Africa. It felt like I was flicking through a personal journal all with meaningful notes written next to them.
A page from the photo album
Every photo has a tale, and as the saying goes “A picture is worth a thousand words”.
What must have been going through his mind when he was told where he was being dispatched to?
They were so young, venturing into the unknown. For me Pop was always my Grandad; so, looking at the photos knowing he was in his very early 20’s, is strange.
Tanks from both sides
Looking at the photos, you can just sense the friendship and comradery that built up between him and the other guys in his regiment.
It’s all in the words
What I do love about Pop’s photo album is that my Grandad wrote a remark next to each shot, which he meticulously fixed in the album.
Photos from North Africa
In one picture he’s standing next to a camel in the middle of nowhere. He apologises for the way he was dressed, in his dirty uniform. My Nan obviously wanted a photo of him next to a camel as he explains how he rushed over to be next to it, and nearly got bitten.
Four different aircraft in the photo album
Wartime photos
The Egyptian police force on camelback
During his time in El Alamein, the Army obviously let the troops visit the Ancient Pyramids in Egypt. As he took photos of the Great Pyramid and Sphinx at Giza.
His photos also include local families that they had met and built up a rapport with. He mentions chatting with children who wanted to go to England.
Pop with the locals
There are black and white photos of streets through Alexandria and old Egyptian barges sailing along The Nile.
A Felucca on the Nile
There is also a photo of Tripoli Cathedral in Libya, which in later years became a mosque. He also took shots of Halfaya Pass in Egypt, which he refers to as “Hellfire Pass”.
An Egyptian goatherder on pyramids road
It’s good to talk
Do you have any family tales that you’d love to share? Perhaps someone you knew was also in El Alamein in Egypt, drop us a comment below.
Prisoner of War
We knew my grandfather had been a POW (prisoner of war) and that luckily for him, it was only for about five or six weeks.
Al-Rifa'i Mosque, Cairo
However, on reading through his correspondence, we came across a letter that a fellow Army colleague had written to my Nan. It explains that the British Army had my Grandad’s kit and some personal items. However, the treasured Coronet camera was with him, along with a locket my Grandmother had given Pop prior to his departure.
I think it must have been a tough Christmas for my Nan in 1944. As she was informed on 20th December 1944, that my Grandfather was captured on 13th December in Athens.
She was later informed to some relief I can imagine, that he was repatriated on 24th January 1945. We have the War Office telegram that my Grandad was able to send back to her on 1st February 1945. It was short and to the point and read “Safe and well back with British”.
Never to be forgotten
Pop never really spoke of the war, just like so many returning soldiers. Which of course, you can undoubtedly understand and appreciate why they wouldn’t.
Just on the rare occasion that my Grandfather did reflect, it was very touching. I can remember him getting choked up (and I did too) about a group of Welsh lads he had become good friends with.
I believe they were part of the same Armoured Brigade as Pop but were in the tanks. Devastatingly they lost their lives when their vehicle took a direct hit. He said how he use to remember them singing “Land of my Fathers”.
It was over 20 years ago he told us about the Welsh boys, and I still remember where we were, when he explained it all.
Discovering our history
Perhaps it’s through these shared moments that fuelled my interest to discover more about the World Wars.
Our travels have taken us along the five Normandy Beaches, through the poignant WWI battlefields of the Somme and Ypres and to the memorials at Tyne Cot and Thiepval.
The Cross of Sacrifice in front of the Thiepval Memorial, Thiepval
I also try and make a point when we are travelling to visit the cemeteries which have Commonwealth War Graves. We actually went to one in Reykjavik whilst in Iceland.
However, closer to home, we have spent time tracing the last resting places of the young men who lost their lives from our little village in Eccles, Kent.
The Eccles War Memorial and Clock
Thinking back now, my Grandad would encourage me to travel and always see the positives in it. Whereas I remember my nan would always be so cautious. Nevertheless, she must have enjoyed flicking through his photo album and seeing these weird and wonderful places.
Thanks Pop for capturing your memories to film.
* This post may contain links to affiliated sites where we earn a small commission at no additional charge to you.
Leave a Reply
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
Wow! I loved reading this account, thank you. My grand-dad (who incidentally I always called ‘Pop’ too) fought in both WWs.
As a young woman I was always asking Pop to tell me about when he was in the war! He seemed to be able to talk about it comfortably enough, although you never knew for sure what he missed out of course… . I never asked him if he had to kill anybody, no, but rather assumed he may have done as he was in the trenches and also involved in hand-to-hand fighting with the Japs at some stage. Not sure of the historical details on this, but he said they were absolutely quick and evil when they came at you out of nowhere with their knives. interestingly I seem to recall him talking about being in Eygpt too, ilke your Pop.
Pop quite liked telling the tale of when he was in the trenches and his pal next to him got shot at by a Gerry and his ear went missing, but otherwise both of them remained unharmed. He always seemed quite amazed at such a close call.
My grandmother was a postwoman during WW1 and could identify the envelopes that would contain the ‘missing presumed dead’ or ‘killed in action’ letters, always dreading she would find one addressed to herself. We were blessed and she never did. The worst he seemed to have suffered was dysentery and he was sent home to recover.
My brother, who did his National Service in the RAF and was a Reserve, is a huge war-interest person. With the help of websites like Ancestry he has done detailed research into Pop’s wartime records, so knows a lot more than I do on the subject. Brother, who is now 86, has given instructions that when he dies he wants to be cremated and his ashes scattered in a tiny memorial garden for fallen soldiers from Folkestone, where he lives. That’s patriotism for you eh?
He was returned to England in WW1 as he had dysentry.
Hi Ann,
Thanks for your kind words and for sharing your stories.
I hope you don’t mind; I will send you a direct email with my reply, as it was reasonably long.
Take care
Janis