One of the most poignant things we saw on holiday were the graves for unknown merchant sailors; victims
of war, their bodies washed up and buried far from home. My father was from a
Fleetwood fishing family and during WW2, aged 15, lied about his age and joined
his brothers on ships carrying food convoys across the Atlantic. I’ve never
forgotten how he reminded me when watching “All Our Yesterdays” that the men
seen on a sinking German vessel “were all somebody’s sons”. He was very much
alive to the suffering of all families affected by the horrors of war.
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