My grandfather. He died Veterans Day two years ago, but since I'm only discovering this thread now, I'm posting it late. He was in his 80s. During the War he served with the RAF from the Battle of Britain through the duration of the war. He was a great guy.
Alright, I will, but unfortunately I don't know much about his wartime years. I know he was at Heathrow for a while, but I think that was towards the end of the war. He was born in Ballyhaunis, Ireland in 1917. He moved to England and then the war broke out. He joined the British Royal Air Force. He then met my grandmother, Margret Hopkins, a nurse in London and they got married after the war. In the 1950's they moved over here on the Queen Mary (I think?), but it might have been the Queen Elizabeth. After the retired and their 4 sons grew up, they moved to suburban Philadelphia. I would spend my days with them before I was old enough to go to school while my parents were at work. It was a lot of fun, they thought me a lot, like history, and how to be a proper gentleman (lol, but that actually turned out to be VERY useful with the ladies). I actually have a cool story about when he died. As soon as he died, in bed with his family near him, there was a ladybug we saw on his bed post. At the viewing we found one on his coffin, and then at the burial there was one on his tombstone. Whenever I tell that to my friends, I expect them to laugh because of the way some of them are, but they actually take it with respect.
