My grandpa’s war diary connects me with the human side of conflict

You can never ask your loved ones enough questions while they are still with you. Perhaps Jewish families know that feeling more than most, with stories of survival, often full of trauma, passed down through generations.

I admire the tireless commitment of Holocaust survivors who have educated generations of children, for whom that period in history grows ever more distant.

My own family was lucky.  We had no horror stories of loss. My Grandpa Sam was already a young man in Britain when he joined the Army to fight Hitler.

As young children, we’d ask him: “What was it like fighting Hitler?” while counting our penny coins, collected and gifted to us by my grandparents’ best friend, Linda — who herself was a survivor.

His answers were appropriately jovial for a grandpa. Most were designed to make us laugh.

His favourite story – who knows if it was true or not  – was about being shot in the bum while fighting the Germans and living to tell the tale.

Now, with a greater appreciation of what war might have been like, do I value that answer even more. I wish I had asked him more as I got older, how it felt to be handed a revolver in your twenties.

Luckily, we have the gift of his diary.

He served in the Royal Tank Regiment, previously known as the Royal Tank Corps, and was stationed mostly, from what I can tell, in Britain, although photos do show that he spent some time abroad.

Of course, I looked up key dates in the war and cross-referenced them with his daily entries.

On January 24 1943, for example, at the Casablanca Conference, Franklin D. Roosevelt and Winston Churchill had just declared their commitment to the unconditional surrender of the Axis powers (Germany, Italy, and Japan).

While Churchill was pledging to fight until total victory, my Grandpa Sam spent the morning “cleaning out the gun” – and not using it.

He “packed up about 10:30 a.m, came back and finished my F.S.M.O.”

After some brief research, I discovered that stands for Field Service Marching Order – essentially preparing all his gear, including ammunition pouches, water bottle and bayonet.

Later that afternoon, he went to the theatre and saw Balloons in the Dusk. According to his diary, he “stood all the time. Came back, wrote a letter and cleaned my shoes,” before going to “bed at 10:00 hrs.”

I find it strangely moving that Grandpa recorded his bedtime at the end of each page — almost always 10pm and no later than 11pm

It is amazing to have this record of what life was like for him during one of the most significant periods in history.

A council cabinet member at Dacorum Borough Council in Hertfordshire recently made headlines for suggesting there should be no VE Day celebrations, claiming such an event would only be for the “elite.”  How ridiculous. It is not the “elite” who get dragged into fighting wars – it is ordinary people like my grandpa. And ordinary people want to honour their sacrifice.

It is thanks to them that peace has been the default for my entire life. VE Day reminds us of the cost of conflict and marks the defeat of one of the most brutal regimes in modern history.

But this is an example of a growing problem. For many, especially younger people, VE Day feels so distant. Unlike older generations who heard first-hand stories from relatives who lived through the war, many today lack that personal connection.

Since reading my grandpa’s diary I’ve reflected on how much our understanding of war is shaped by the seismic events – the dramatic moments of defeat, death and destruction.

But war is also boring. For many soldiers days were spent in monotonous routines. And perhaps that helped them cope with the stress and trauma of war — and still does.

I find it strangely moving that Grandpa recorded his bedtime at the end of each page — almost always 10pm and no later than 11pm. Something about knowing he was asleep at that time in 1943 connects me to him now.

Young people in Britain don’t worry about war. Instead they fear never being able to afford to live independently and support a family. It’s hard to imagine bigger worries.

When I was taught about the war at school, it was always through a series of dates and facts. But it’s the human stories that capture your heart and imagination and stay with me.