Hey Dad------Let’S Talk

By June-Violet Spragg

This is a story of the loss of a father in World War II and the lifetime loss felt by his daughter at not having a father. She is in her twilight years now. She has felt his loss all her life, and this is her story, told in a conversational version.

A conversation she never had and often regretted not havingshe is fulfilling that wish in this story.

This is June-Violets story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris NZ
• Release date: Nov 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493192656

June-Violet Spragg

June-Violet Spragg (nee Halliwell) was born on June 16, 1940, in Auckland, New Zealand. She is an author of animal stories, an avid cat lover, and has several cats. She lives by the number 8 wire Kiwi method of fixing things in the north of the North Island in Paradise.

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Copyright © 2014 by June-Violet Spragg.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014919285

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4931-9264-9

                Softcover        978-1-4931-9263-2

                eBook             978-1-4931-9265-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/28/2014

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HEY, DAD—let’s talk

Well, Dad, I’ve been meaning to do this for years. Finally, I have gotten around to it. It is about time for us to have a father-daughter talk. I need to get a lot off my chest. A meaningful talk with you and about you and my long life. I can assure you it will be informative and rewarding to both of us. It has taken a long time for this moment to arrive, over seventy years to be exact.

I visited your grave in the El Alamein War Cemetery in Egypt way back October 1992 during the 50th Anniversary of the Historic Battle of El Alamein. I went straight to your grave, through all those seven thousand odd other graves. How? I had memorised the chief landmarks that I had studied over the years from various books the Government presented to Mum. I took over the care of those treasured books and they became my special library. One was on the war graves Their Name Liveth (1956), a copy of the Official History of the 6TH RMT (your regiment, Dad), also a copy of The War Dead of the British Commonwealth and Empire. All three books have become my ‘Bibles’ over my lifetime, as I have read and re-read them, looking at the pages several times, and each time I got another understanding of your time in Egypt and how brave you were. I am one very proud daughter.

There is also another booklet given to me many, many years ago by an uncle of my late husband, Battle for Egypt, the NZ Division in Action, which describes the battles of Ruweisat Ridge where you were killed in July 1942.

I also visited that site when I was on a pilgrimage to visit your grave in Egypt, Dad. It was so quiet there and peaceful in a foreign way.

Were you aware of my presence at your graveside? I sat with you for quite some time at the Alamein War Cemetery.

I thought the word ridge was rather strong as it didn’t appear to be a ridge at all, at least not by my understanding of the word. I tried to envisage the battle that took your life but all I saw was desert, wide expanses of sand and the odd camel weed blowing or I should say rolling around, with camel tracks meandering kilometre after kilometre—endlessly.

I was always curious as to how you were killed, as there were several versions. I have read several books on that particular battle over the years, and I have come up with a conclusive explanation that I am satisfied with.

Whilst in Egypt I visited as many places as time would permit. Places that you mentioned in letters home to Mum. Maadi, Cairo, Alexandria, Fuka, I even visited Rommel’s headquarters in Mersah Matruh where he hid out during the war. It was a cave, Dad! Very interesting to visit in peacetime. I hope that you are not disgusted with me for visiting your murderers’ hideout?

I wasn’t prepared for the culture shock, Dad. My first sight of Cairo was a disbelief. I thought I was back in biblical times as the buildings reminded me of that era and all the people riding around on donkeys. Plus the locals were always trying to take money off me. I’d never seen so many people in one place and the noise was incredible. I kept pinching myself to see that I wasn’t imagining things.

Whilst in Mersah Matruh, Dad, I had to be very diplomatic several times as the people seemed so touchy. One time, I was only patting a donkey and the owner approached me with a gun, pointing it at me. I got away from that poor donkey—fast.

I should mention, Dad, that we (I was