It happened almost nightly, just before dark. The whine of sirens pierced the air as a woman and her two daughters gathered up their blankets and pillows and walked quickly to the nearest air raid shelter. Air Raid Wardens would go door to door, making sure no one was left in their homes during this time. It was Belfast, Northern Ireland and the year was 1940. The woman and her two daughters were my Grandmother, my Mom and my Aunt. They would spend the night propped up against a wall in the shelter, or curled up on the hard floor trying to sleep, hoping that when they returned the next morning, their house would still be standing. My Grandfather had died in 1938, so the onset of WW II came as yet another troubling event in this young family’s life. One night the bombs felt like they were falling frighteningly close. The next morning everyone hurried out of the shelter, fearful at what they may find. Sadly and traumatically, my family found only rubble where a warm and welcoming home had once stood. They lost everything, as there was nothing left to salvage. The combined experiences of losing a husband and father one year and their house the next year, had a long lasting effect on my Grandmother and her family.

At age 17 my Dad had been eager to join the British Army. He showed up at the recruitment office and was told he was too young. But he was encouraged to come back again the next day when he would be “older”, wink-wink-nudge-nudge. He signed on in 1937 and proudly served in Field Marshall Montgomery’s 8th Army. When he first joined up, he learned how to take care of horses, which were once a necessity in any battle. But things quickly changed and soon he was driving tanks and other army vehicles. In June of 1940 he was on the beaches of Dunkirk, where two of his childhood friends were blown up beside him. He was wounded in that battle and was fortunate to be rescued by a British naval boat. Dad was also involved in the Battle of Normandy, a battle that went on for 3 months in 1944. His physical and mental reserves were challenged on a second to second basis during this time.

After the war, when my parents met and married, they were both working in Germany for the Intelligence Branch of the British Control Commission. The work they did during that time was full of tension and high risk, but they were young and their life seemed to be romantically exciting. The fact that the work was highly stressful didn’t even enter their minds.

The experiences that many people had during WW II and shortly thereafter redefines the word that we all over-use on a daily basis. Stress. Their stressors were life and death situations as opposed to the sometimes self-created stressful lifestyles we have chosen in generations since. Yet, with the unique type of stress that only war can trigger, came some good times, as everyone made sure to celebrate the important things in their lives. The small daily annoyances of life became unimportant in the light of trying to survive another day, or week, or month. People were forced to focus on the things that really mattered. I think there is a lesson here.

I am in awe of anyone who has fought in a war. I am so very proud of my parents and their individual contributions in helping to keep their country safe and free. They both gave up a lot in this effort as did many others like them. My heartfelt thanks to all of you who have taken part in any war that has assured the freedom of others.

Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
The long and the short and the tall
Bless all the sergeants and W.O. Ones
Bless all the corp'rals and their blinking sons
For we're saying good-bye to them all
As back to the barracks we crawl
You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads Bless 'em all,

www.afunnybusiness.com

Carole Fawcett is a Stress Management Consultant and Laughter Therapist. Her workshops are interactive and fun. Everyone who is lucky enough to attend these workshops leaves feeling energized and with methods on how to cope with the stressors in their lives.

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