A Father’s Day story.
An amusing (sort of) story of my dad and a Luftwaffe pilot.
As today is Father’s Day here in the UK, and my dad is no longer with us, I thought I would write about one of his more amusing wartime exploits.
My dad served the last three years of the war in the air sea rescue branch of the RAF.
During their sorties in the North Sea and English Channel, they not only picked up allied air crew that had “ditched” but on the odd occasion they would rescue members of the Luftwaffe, who had run into trouble.
My dad always told me that like their allied counterparts, the Luftwaffe pilots were only too pleased to be rescued, and rarely caused any trouble.
However, when one young German flyer was hauled up onto the deck of the rescue launch, he stood to attention, raised his right hand in salute and declared “Heil Hitler”.
Well, the crew thought this was wonderful. They gathered around him, grabbed his shoulders, lifted him up high.
Then threw him back into the sea.
The second time he was lifted back onto the deck, his dedication and enthusiasm for the Fuhrer had diminished somewhat.
He not only accepted his fate but also the hot cup of tea they gave him.
For him, the war was over.
But you have to admire his nerve.
