Connections

Today my grandad and I emailed the woman who is seeking info on her uncle killed in World War Two. She had a series of records detailing various facts of his war record but did not understand the abbreviations. So my grandad went through explaining them to me and I typed them into an email and we sent it off. It was very interesting to learn more about the day-to-day reality of life in Bomber Command. The woman's uncle had a slightly baffling career though and my grandad was puzzled by some of the gaps in his service record. At one stage he was admitted to hospital and following his discharge there was a five month period where no details are recorded. Presumably a medical convalescence. As we sat together I could glimpse my grandad's raid reports. As I mentioned yesterday, this woman contacted my grandad because her uncle served in the same squadron. In one of the reports my grandad's Lancaster is listed directly above the other chap's meaning they took off within minutes of each other. And yet they did not know one another from Adam. Both of them bound for Berlin - the most hazardous of destinations - to try and deliver their own little nail in the coffin of Nazi Germany. But only one would return.
It's strange the connections we make. Tentacles stretched out over time bringing together people who ordinarily would never have any reason to communicate. My grandad may never have exchanged a single word with his former comrade but now, in death, he becomes real for the first time. Alive. The chap he passed at breakfast or brushed shoulders with on the dash out to their bombers barely registered then but now he does. He has become more than a name on a letter or a gravestone. He is someone who shared the same experiences as my grandad. He can't come to know him but at least now he can acknowledge him.