Uncle Bill's Heritage of Kindness

UNCLE BILL – INTRODUCTION


This is the story of David Blackie, a twelve year old, his brother Ron, age eleven and his sister Iris, age nine. They were Cockney evacuees from their home in London, England in 1944 during the German blitz bombing of London. They were sent to a small village named Ashprington, a country township near Totnes, Devon, England.

David, far from home, met an American soldier he called "Uncle Bill." He made such a difference in a child's life with his kindness, the memory of which would stay with David forever.

David has been searching for this soldier over 50 years. He only knew him by the name "Uncle Bill" and as a soldier in the 707th MP Battalion. His story and a great poem, as well as a description of Uncle Bill, follows.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

UNCLE BILL’S HERITAGE OF KINDNESS

The American GI in World War II set a standard of courage, stamina, ability, sacrifice, resourcefulness and heroism that will live forever. Often overlooked in the clash of mighty armies, is the humanity and kindness of those men and women towards children.

Far from home, one American soldier with his kindness, made such a difference in a child's life, the memory of which would stay with him forever. That American GI's kindness left such a deep and lasting impression in that child's mind, he would carry and cherish it all his life; and indeed, perhaps that is really the greatest legacy the W.W.II GI left to the thousands of misplaced deprived children in England, during what was known in the early 1940's as the "American occupation of Britain". It was the biggest build-up of military manpower and equipment ever known; and was of course, the precursor to the mightiest Military Operation ever to take place, gloriously blazoned in history as D-Day!

England late in 1940 was a nation besieged, still reeling from the shock and disaster of "Dunkirk", and the realization that the ever ¬victorious German Army was now poised just a few miles across that protective stretch of water, the "English Channel".

The civilian population, children, the elderly, and the sick, were taking a terrible and horrendous nightly battering, from wave after wave of German bombers pouring down a deadly hail of high explosives and incendiary bombs; on several occasions setting the whole of the East end of London and the adjacent dockyards aflame. The fury of the Nazi blitz compelled the government of the day to put into operation a massive evacuation scheme from all the major cities, of children and mothers with babies; relocating them to places of comparative safety into various parts of the English countryside.

David a nine year old Londoner, along with his younger brother Ron and still younger sister Iris, who at the time was just five years old, are sent to the west of England county of Devon; a remote village named "Blackawton" approximately three miles in from the South Devon coastline known as "Slapton Sands" became their new home.

For these three London evacuees life was to prove less than easy for quite some time to come. They were uninvited to a part of England that was considered to be thirty years or so behind the times, amongst people who viewed any outsiders with extreme suspicion almost to the point of animosity. The village itself had no street lighting of any kind, no electricity or running water, oil lamps and water pumped from underground wells were the norm.

Their first foster home, located about one mile from the village itself, was an old farmhouse of mud walls, thatched roof, and dirt floors. It was the middle of the night and pitch-black darkness when they were taken to their new home. It is not surprising that the three little evacuees were terrified. After a three or four hour cattle-like selective auction in the village hall, with most children sobbing and crying for their mothers, towards midnight they were marched off with a male and female adult (their new foster parents to be) to walk in total darkness to the mud farmhouse. Because of David's stubborn refusal to agree to any split up of himself and his siblings, as drummed into him by his mother before departing London, they were the last to be allocated.

Unable to understand anything that was said to them, the thick west of England dialect sounded like a foreign language to their "Cockney" ears, the journey to the farmhouse was frightening. The hooting of owls and the mournful low mooing of unseen cattle, along with strange rustlings and never before heard sounds from the adjacent hedgerows terrified our three evacuees. Finally arriving at their, to them, odd looking foster home and even stranger looking bedroom, all three, scared and frightened, huddled into one another and cried themselves to sleep, David trying all the while between his own tears to comfort his brother and sister.

Their stay at the farmhouse was terminated some six weeks later by the intervention of the billeting officer, a London man Mr. Brabyn, charged with the responsibility of integrating the evacuees into their new community, and at the same time watching out for the welfare of all the London children in the new environment.
The removal of David, Ronald, and their baby sister Iris was brought about by a sharp eyed temporary London lady teacher, who had noticed that the children ate dry bread and tomato sauce sandwiches for school lunch day after day, and who upon questioning David, learned that this was and had been their total diet for the six weeks they had been at the ancient farmhouse, breakfast, school lunch, and evening meal. Horrified and concerned, she wasted no time informing Mr. Brabyn who arrived promptly at four o'clock in the afternoon, school leaving time, in his pre war Austin 8 motor car.

Having not the slightest inkling of what was about to transpire, the three clambered excitedly into the old car for their first ever ride in such a magnificent, in their eyes, motorcar. On arrival at the farmhouse Mr. Brabyn proceeded to give Mrs. S..... a very severe talking to regarding her lack of care and inadequate feeding of the three children. During this time David began to fear for themselves (David remembers wetting his pants) after Mr. Brabyn would leave, but much to their surprise, and David's immense relief, the billeting officer instructed them to pack their few belongings and gas masks and get back into the car. Mr. Brabyn then drove them back to the village, putting them up in his small cottage, provided by the authorities, where for the first time in six weeks they had a decent meal.

After being re-billeted with new foster families life went on as normal as life could be expected to in the prevailing wartime situation. Grim times and bad news was the order of the day. Along with severe food rationing, sweets and chocolate were hardly ever seen. On the rare occasions a limited supply arrived in the tiny village shop, the news went around like a wildfire: the result being that all the kids would crowd outside the shop shouting and yelling excitedly, waving their sweet ration coupons, clamoring pushing and shoving to gain entry and get served before the limited supply ran out.

The contest between the local kids and the evicts from London, and some who had arrived later from the West Country city of Bristol, invariably finished up with bloodied noses, tears and fat lips and much disappointment.

Late in 1943 the wartime government issued a directive that everybody living in the coastal area for a considerable length of the coastline itself, an area known as the "South Hams" district, were to be moved out within a matter of a few short weeks. Farmers, shop owners, trades people, every person without exception.
All livestock, pets, everything and everybody, all goods and chattels were to be taken. Some three thousand people, including the remaining evacs from London (many by this time had been taken back by their mothers) who were of course being relocated for the second time. The ones old enough to realize the irony, and who had received less than decent treatment, secretly enjoyed the fact that now their previous hosts were going to experience the very same discomfort. In the event it was to bring about a spell of happiness to our three Londoners, namely Cornwall, Devon, Somerset and Wiltshire.

As a consequence, David, Ron and Iris found themselves transferred to another small village named "Ashprington" a mile outside the perimeter of the training area, quite close to the country township of "Totnes".

Between the town and the village, a very old English country home known as "Bowden House" and its surrounding grounds had been taken over as an American Army base, the house acting as the various encamped units HQ's, with officer and mess accommodation.

Sheltered beneath the trees in the wooded areas, for camouflage purposes, large numbers of bell shaped six or eight man tents were located on both sides of the small narrow roadway that ran through the estate; these camps were referred to as sausage camps.

By this time David was twelve years old, brother Ron would be eleven next birthday and sister Iris was almost nine. Unbeknown to them life was about to take on a brighter outlook for the three young misplaced cockneys.
The arrival of thousands of American servicemen to their part of England was to bring happier days for all kids. The generosity and easygoing friendly attitude of the GI's won the hearts of kids all over Britain. Christmas parties, parties for sick children in hospital, cash collections to help bombing victims; to their everlasting credit, all were commonplace GI activities. Our three cockney evacuees were no exception; the highlight of the day for David and Ron was the pre-bedtime hours.

The early evening arrival into the village of varying numbers of GI's, who would walk from the base at "Bowden House" to the village pub for a few beers, and to socialize with any locals that were out and about. Being a very small country pub it was nowhere near large enough to accommodate the usually several dozen GI’s, it was the practice of many of them to sit outside on the low stone walls, or the village green, on which stood the stone memorial cross to the fallen of World War 1.
That spring and summer of 1944, certainly at least from the early summer months, blessed the English countryside with lovely sunny days and pleasant warm evenings, of which the children took full advantage, by happily mixing and playing with the gum chewing soldiers from across the sea.

In retrospect, this writer with the wisdom of years, realizes that in almost all cases, the GI's were as happy to welcome the kids into their company to talk and pass the time, no doubt missing their own younger brothers and sisters back home; or in the case of the older servicemen their children. It was at this time the young Blackies fortunes changed for the better.

Without realizing it at first, David was drawn to one particular GI who always seemed to seek out David and brother Ron, treating them in a special manner. He never failed to bring them gifts of one kind of another; "Hershey" chocolate bars, chewing gum, candies, "Jack Frost" sugar cubes in paper wrappers, and as David remembers so vividly the first orange he ever recalled having.
"Uncle Bill" as he said to call him, represented everything they missed in their own father, whom they had not seen in three and half years as he was away helping fight a war; he would play tag with them, tug of war and other games, and tell them stories of America.

The most marvelous happening of all occurred, when one evening, David noticed a mark high on "Uncle Bills" chest, where his shirtfront parted at the second button down; and in the way that children will keep asking, what's that Uncle Bill what's that? At the same time pointing towards Uncle Bills throat. In his good ¬natured fashion, a twinkle in his eye, Uncle Bill in hushed tones declared it to be a secret weapon that only he had to beat the was the practice of many of them to sit outside on the low stone walls, or the village green, on which stood the stone memorial cross to the fallen of World War 1.

That spring and summer of 1944, certainly at least from the early summer months, blessed the English countryside with lovely sunny days and pleasant warm evenings, of which the children took full advantage by happily mixing and playing with the gum chewing soldiers from across the sea.

In retrospect, this writer with the wisdom of years, realizes that in almost all cases, the GI's were as happy to welcome the kids into their company to talk and pass the time, no doubt missing their own younger brothers and sisters back home; or in the case of the older servicemen their children. It was at this time the young Blackies fortunes changed for the better.

Without realizing at first, David was drawn to one particular GI who always seemed to seek out David and brother Ron, treating them in a special manner. He never failed to bring them gifts of one kind of another; "Hershey" chocolate bars, chewing gum, candies, "Jack Frost" sugar cubes in paper wrappers, and as David remembers so vividly the first orange he ever recalled having.

"Uncle Bill" as he said to call him, represented everything they missed in their own father, whom they had not seen in three and half years as he was away helping fight a war; he would play tag with them, tug of war and other games, and tell them stories of America.

The most marvelous happening of all occurred, when one evening, David noticed a mark high on "Uncle Bills" chest, where his shirtfront parted at the second button down; and in the way that children will keep asking, what's that Uncle Bill what's that? At the same time pointing towards Uncle Bills throat. In his good ¬natured fashion a twinkle in his eye, Uncle Bill in hushed tones declared it to be a secret weapon that only he had to beat the Germans, and was known only to him.

After some further teasing he agreed to show them if they promised not to tell anyone else, "we won’t tell Uncle Bill, we won’t tell" said David "we know loose lips sinks ships", whereupon Uncle Bill opened his shirtfront to display the most magnificent American Bald Eagle, tattooed in full glorious colour across his chest, and, by the act of flexing his pectoral muscles, he was able to cause the wings of the eagle to move up and down as though the eagle was flying, WOW! THE BROTHERS WERE BOTH DUMBSTRUCK.

After this mind-blowing revelation he was like a god sent from above, and in David's mind, Uncle Bill was going to beat the whole German Army single-handed. Every time after that, David, upon seeing Uncle Bill would point to his chest and say "make it fly Uncle Bill make it fly".

The affection David developed for this stocky, thickset, powerful looking soldier man, with the deep hearty laughter, warm smiling eyes and such a fun attitude, would remain with him forever. In what was probably all too short a space of time, this un-known soldier with the strange accent brought a big ray of sunshine and happiness into the lives of two displaced young cockney kids. But, more importantly, through his love, affection and kindness, he gave them fresh hope that sometimes at least life could be kind and happy; he would say "David one day this war will all be over, your Dad will come home and then you, Ron and Iris your Mum and Dad will all be together again" I like to think that because Uncle Bill said he would, our Dad did come home safely from the war.

Then, one dark day, David's world collapsed around his ears, Uncle Bill and all the other GI's just disappeared, they left as they had come suddenly and unannounced. Bill's unit, whatever it was, no doubt was restricted to base before joining the thousands of brave courageous soldier men storming the beaches of ''Normandy''; there were no goodbyes, and operational security prevented such emotional luxuries. Consequently David and brother Ron have never seen Uncle Bill again, another sadness in a world in a world full of sadness.

David thought when peace finally came he would come back, he is sure he would have; but David, Ron and Iris were gone, back to London. The war was over and their own father had made it home as Uncle Bill constantly told David he would.
Uncle Bill and countless thousands like him righted the world and quietly went home, many maimed physically and scarred mentally, leaving behind thousands of fallen buddies buried in the soils of France, Belgium, the Netherlands and all across Europe.

The GI’s knew what they had accomplished on the battlefields of Europe would be recorded in history, but they could not know what was being recorded in the heart of a London evacuee, (and thousands like him) in a small out of the way country village, nestling among the gentle rolling hills of the rich fertile red earth of the South Devon coastline.

David finally accepted Uncle Bill was not coming back to England, but he and his brother Ron could not forget the happy-go-lucky GI who had taken the time to show he cared, which was the greatest gift of all during those dark threatening days of World War II.

After David, his brother and sister returned to London, to what was now a totally alien way of life in the huge city, he could not get Uncle Bill from his mind. He began to realize and worry that Uncle Bill may be a maimed veteran, or even did not make it back to America.

The service at St. Paul's Cathedral, in the heart of the bombed ruins of London, to honour the American fallen brought home to him why those strangers had come in their midst. So how do you find one in the multitudes, knowing only he was Uncle Bill, with an American Bald Eagle tattooed on his chest. A young boy doesn't think to ask for an address, or even a last name.

So for forty five years David has searched for Bill, whose smiling face and booming hearty laughter has remained firmly planted in his mind, hoping and praying that the soldier he idolized, with that mighty Eagle on his chest, made it home to his loved ones, or does he rest in the soil of the lands he helped to liberate?

As a young man in 1964 David emigrated to Australia and got on with his own life; still the memory of Uncle Bill haunted him, and the need to find him, and thank him for the joy and kindness he gave to a little boy has become a burning passion.
David, in his older years, has spent countless hours and thousands of dollars conducting a search for Uncle Bill; friends thought him mad and advised him to forget it, telling him time and time again it was hopeless.

In spite of everything he continued, using military archives and government departments in America and Britain, making telephone calls from Australia to numerous World War II veterans in America, men whose names appeared in all the books he could lay his hands on that dealt with the invasion of "Normandy".

That type of determination and tenacity is what carried the Brits through what was described by their inspired wartime leader Mr. Winston Churchill, as "Their Darkest Hour", being the very trait so admired by the vast numbers of G.I’s when training in that battered war torn country, preparing for the day that went down in history as the greatest military operation of all time.

David Blackie Sydney Australia March 1992.


Should any person reading this have access to a computer, I suggest they go online and enter ""Exercise Tiger'" in any good search engine, such as "Web Ferret" or "Google" to bring up accounts of the most tragic training event in American Military History. This tragedy took place off the beach at "Slapton Sands" during the period David was evacuated there. I strongly recommend all American citizens read of this sad controversial event.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"UNCLE BILL" - POEM

Is it really fifty years ago
I met a soldier, a GI Joe,
A carefree smile upon his face,
Like me a stranger in this place?

A mighty war caused us to meet
In a Devon village with just one street;
Along with thousands of his mates,
He'd come from somewhere called the "States"

There was no joy for us back then,
Until we met those brave young men;
From every State in the USA
They came in time to save the day.

Who was this man we grew to love
Maybe sent by God above,
His name was Bill that's all we know
But kindness plus to us did show.

A mighty Eagle on his chest
Caused him to stand out from the rest,
Uncle Bill please make it fly,
Flexing his pecs; the Eagle soared up to the sky.

Chewing gum and Hershey bars
Jack frost cubes and things in jars,
Our Uncle Bill with his heart of gold
He never left us in the cold.

Tag with us he would play
Laughing and joking all the way,
I have often wondered if he knew
I realized he was lonely too.

Often strange things he would bring
Such treasures made our small hearts sing,
An orange I remember well
The first I'd had the truth to tell

No goodbyes were ever said
'Twas all to sudden, no tears were shed
They left so quietly in the night
A deadly battle ahead to fight.

It was so cruel you had to go
Uncle Bill I've missed you so,
When you departed in the dark
A dog, I'm sure I heard him bark.

There is of course a dreadful chance
Bill’s resting in the soil of France,
With all those laughing brave young boys
Whose guns, not long before, were toys?

Such fine young men, so brave and proud
So many soon to wear a shroud,
Their sightless eyes towards the sky
Oh Lord! Why did they have to die?

Mothers, Sisters, and Fathers too
So many would weep before this was through,
We Brits we knew what was to come,
That together, we'd march to the ghostly drum.

So many battles lay ahead
Fields and hedgerows strewn with dead,
But ever onwards fighting hard
Dying for every bloody yard.

No more those pure young men we knew
Now tough and hard, a motley crew,
Their fears, their blood, their sweat and tears
Would stain the soil of France for years.

The roar of guns on the way to hell,
Spewing bullets death and shell,
Terror reigning all around,
As fine young men fell to the ground.

At sixty-two I still do find
Bill's smiling face within my mind,
That hearty laugh I still can hear
It makes me sad, and I shed a tear.

Another year has just passed by
Without success but still I try
I'm sure I'll find him in the end
Uncle Bill my long lost friend.

America, land of the brave home of the free,
Your sons you sent across the sea,
Shout their praises long and loud
Indeed, they really did you proud.

All aged men by now they are
So many gone; and now a star,
For each in heavens bright
God, please bless them all, as I say goodnight.

Can someone help me please to find
That soldier boy who was so kind,
With soaring Eagle on his chest
I need to know if he's at rest,
I loved that man, who took the time
To show he cared, for me and mine.

Written to honour the memory of "Uncle Bill", a WWII GI who befriended two wartime London evacuee brothers. He gave them hope, he showed them wonderful love and kindness, but above all else, whilst on his way to war he took the time to stop and care. Thank you "Uncle Bill" wherever you are, God bless you.
Also dedicated to every WW II American GI, who served his country, and the world; and in so doing, restored peace and sanity to a world gone mad.

David Blackie
Sydney, Australia. August 1993

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN TO FIND THE FOLLOWING WW II GI

The following is a description and limited profile of a World War II American GI who was stationed near the country town of Totnes, in the County of South Devon, England during the months leading up to D-Day June 6, 1944. Totnes sits astride the upper reaches of the river "Dart", at the mouth of which is located the naval seaport/township of Dartmouth, one of the main embarkation points for the American invasion forces.

DETAILS OF THE SOLDIER BEING SOUGHT:

STATION BOWDEN HOUSE, AN ENGLISH COUNTRY MANSION
LOCALITY BETWEEN THE COUNTRY TOWN OF TOTNES AND THE
VILLAGE OF ASHPRINGTON, ON WHAT WAS KNOWN AS THE TOTNES ROAD

TlME PERIOD ANY TIME BETWEEN FEBRUARY AND AUGUST 1944. THE MOST LIKELY MONTHS WOULD BE APRIL, MAY, JUNE, JULY, AND POSSIBLY AUGUST.

SURNAME UNKNOWN

BRANCH OF SERVICE UNITED STATES ARMY

UNIT UNCERTAIN, POSSIBLY ONE OF THE FOLLOWING:

102nd PORT MARINE MAINTENANCE CO.

C Co, 707th MILITARY POLICE BATALLION

29th INFANTRY REGIMENT (NOT DIVISION)
LESS 2ND AND 3RD BATTALIONS

HQ’RS Co 46TH ARMOURED INF. BATTALION

47TH ARMOURED INFANTRY BATTALION

E Co 156TH INFANTRY REGIMENT

445th ANTI AIRCRAFT BATTALION Co's A.B.C.D.

502nd LIGHT PONTON COMPANY

25/37 ORDINANCE MEDIUM AUTO MAINTENANCE CO.


PERSONAL DESCRIPTION:

A POWERFULLY BUILT MAN, BROAD SHOULDERED, THICK SET, NOT THE TYPE ONE WOULD CHOOSE TO ARGUE WITH, BUT WAS VERY EASY GOING WITH A CHEERFUL PERSONALITY, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY ATTITUDE WITH A STRONG LIKING FOR KIDS AND HAD A DEEP HEARTY BOOMING LAUGH.

HEIGHT 5'-10” APPROXIMATE
WEIGHT 175 TO 185 POUNDS (EST.)
BUILD SOLID THICK-SET
COMPLEXION MEDIUM
HAIR COLOUR LIGHT TO MEDIUM
EYE COLOUR UNKNOWN
NOSE BROADISH (NOT FLAT OR BROKEN)
NECK THICK, MUSCULAR

DISTINGUISHING FEATURE:

A MAGNIFICENT AMERICAN BALD EAGLE TATTOO IN FULL COLOUR ON HIS CHEST, HE WAS ABLE TO FLEX HIS PECTORAL (CHEST) MUSCLES, CAUSING THE WINGS TO MOVE UP AND DOWN AS THOUGH IT WAS FLYING. HE SAID TO CALL HIM UNCLE BILL, I WAS TWELVE YEARS OF AGE, AND MY BROTHER RON AND I LOVED HIM.

----------------------------
EDITOR'S NOTE: In December, 2009 David Blackie called me from Australia, where he now lives. He "accidentally" found this blog on the internet. He informed me that he located Uncle Bill but, unfortunately, he had died three years ago.
Robby Campbell