Eric was conscripted into the army at age 18 and was assigned to the Royal Armoured Corps. He trained on a flail tank, which cleared mines, in readiness for the Normandy invasion. They landed on D-Day with his tank driving through shallow water, clearing mines as it went and supporting Canadian infantry. During the action he realised his shoulder was wet with blood. His commanding officer, above him in the tank, had been wounded. Eric helped him out of the tank and the officer was picked up by the medical corps. The remainder of the crew realised that their rations for five would now go further as there were only four of them! While mine clearing they drove very slowly with a good view of the carnage taking place during which his attitude was one of self-preservation and ‘Thank God it wasn’t me’. Later, in Germany, he was ordered to machine gun farmhouses in case they housed enemy troops when a young mother holding a toddler ran out. She jumped into a trench and the child survived but the mother died after being hit by their gun fire. Eric is still upset by this as it was probably his gunnery and thinks about it now, speculating on how old the woman would be if she had lived. He served the entire campaign in western Europe and was later sent to Palestine during the Zionist insurrection. He considers himself to have had the luck of the proverbial cat with nine lives.

When Peter Waddington turned 18, his National Service call-up papers arrived and soon after he found himself training with the 1st King’s Liverpool Regiment. Like many young men sent to Korea, he admits he knew almost nothing about the country or the conflict before he landed there. His memories capture both the strangeness and the stark reality of service: from being greeted on arrival by a band playing the Saint Louis Blues March to the harsh daily grind of trench warfare along the 38th Parallel.

In his interview, Peter recalls moments of humour, the ever-present rats and lice, and the rare relief of rest and recuperation in Japan. But he also speaks candidly about loss — the friends killed in action, the fear of attack, and the brutal fighting at the Battle of the Hook. Out of all his close comrades, Peter was the only one to return home unscathed.

Back in post-war Britain, he reflects on the challenges of returning to austerity and his determination that Korea should never be the “Forgotten War.”

Conscripted into the Army, Peter Matthews completed his basic training at Shorncliffe Barracks before being posted to Berlin as part of Operation Plainfare, the British element of the Berlin Airlift. A bout of illness delayed his journey; by the time he recovered, the Russians had closed the roads, railways and rivers, so Peter had to be flown in — a dramatic introduction to a divided city.

In his interview, Peter recalls the Queen’s Royal Regiment’s role in maintaining order and containing the Russian threat during the blockade. He shares vivid memories of a riot at the German Chancellery, of seeing former concentration camp prisoners working alongside SS men, and of being billeted at Berlin’s Olympic Stadium — a poignant billet for a sports lover.

Peter talks candidly about joint guard duties at Spandau Prison, the danger of infection from bodies still buried in the rubble, and the stark contrasts between British and American rations. His reflections on Russian behaviour at the end of the war underline why so much effort was poured into keeping Berlin’s people fed and fuelled — and why this story remains so important to tell.