War, it’s a terrible thing, one that has caught many of us within its grasp and never let go. Soon it will be the 100th Anniversary of the 1st world war and for the majority of us, it will be a time of remembrance for those of us that lost their Ancestors or those that fought in the war and lived to tell the tale.

The same can be said for the 2nd world war, however many of those amazing fighters are still alive today and without them we wouldn’t be where we are now.

Almost 100 years later and we’re still fighting, it may be a different war but it’s still the same, every day we read the newspapers, watch the TV or listen to the Radio and we all think: Is this my friend, relative? Or: I feel ever so sorry for the family of this person.

However I wish to go back to the 2nd world war. My family (who shall not be named) took part in this one and I wish to pay homage to them. My paternal Great- Grandfather fought in first the Army and then the Navy, my maternal Nanna’s Father trained men to fight in the Army despite his own previous war injuries and my maternal Grandfather also fought in the war and it’s him that I truly wish to talk about.

During the war my Grandfather was stationed at Kiora Hall, Stockton-On-Tees, Middlesbrough. Normally when I tell people this story they don’t actually take me to be very serious at all. What man goes to war but doesn’t fight?! My Grandfather, that’s who, funnily enough he was only stationed a few streets away from his home and not once did he ever go back, preferring to wait until the war ended like every other man/woman or child who had taken part within the war.

I’ve heard many stories about the German P-O-W’s that were kept at Kiora, heck they even named the Hall! Kiora Hall was basically in the centre of an estate, Roseworth to be exact and those that lived there during the war had many stories to tell. One example was this:

“Kiora Hall wasn’t a P-O-W camp, it can’t have been it was more of a holiday camp than anything else! The only time that we ever saw anything remotely dramatic was when the Prisoners were marched into the camp. Then they became one of us, wore our clothes but they had diamond patched on their clothes to say they were Germans, they also worked on out farms and made our toys for the children at Christmas. No one ever forced them to do it either; they did it in order to re-pay us for the kindness we’d shown them”.

It turns out that one man appreciated it so much that he created a cigarette box for my Grandfather, sadly it’s gotten lost over the years. Now do you see why I wanted to talk about him? He took part in the war but didn’t take part in the war at the same time. He was a Chef at Kiora Hall but was actually classed as a soldier, confusing I know but that’s Granddad for you, he always loved to confuse people.

So ends my little story about war, can anyone guess why I would add my Grandfather’s rather unique story here?

I wished to show that not every enemy is bad and not every war included death. There are always two sides to a story.

Note: Granddad’s army regiment was the Durham Home Guard, a sub- catagory of Durham Light Infantry, which would explain why he stayed at home.

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Before the Royal party arrived a guard of honour provided by the 1st Battalion of the Durham Light Infantry marched up to the bridge cheered by the crowds. Granddad is somewhere in that crowd, or at least we think so. One of those houses is also where his G G Grandfather lived and where I now attend a course hehe..