The book you are about to read is the true story of my father Bert Groves' experiences during World War 2, written by him and in his own words. It highlights the loss of innocence of a generation, with young men being plucked away from their normal lives for, as in my father's case, six and a half years. These were men who volunteered to drive their petrol tankers through the oncoming theatre of war, from France, across Europe, through to North Africa and finishing in Berlin. The memories are both humorous and sad, but incredibly detailed throughout. He wrote these memoirs shortly before his own untimely death at the age of 58yrs in 1976 following a different type of battle, this time against Cancer. When reading this book, bear in mind that it was written in 1976 as different a world compared to today as it was compared to 1945. You may find some of his comments slightly less than what we accept now as Politically Correct, but this man gave six and a half years of his life for his country and defending it's people against tyranny. I certainly don't have the right to alter his words, but he had earned the right to speak them. When I started to compile his account I had no idea what a journey of discovery it would be for me, getting to know and admire a completely different person to the one I had loved as my Dad and my mate. Perhaps it's significant that I am now the same age as my Dad when he wrote these memoirs, this story, that I can now pass on to my daughter, her generation and beyond.
About the Author: This book was the only book written by my Father Bert Groves describing his experiences throughout World War 2. He worked as a petrol tanker driver/mechanic before the war, during the war and upon returning to 'civvy street' after. He married my mother and became a father that I was proud to call my mate. Following a period of time carrying out clerical work in an office he went on to train in Electronics and worked as a maintenance electrician for Printar Industries at their Silver Town, London Depot. This was followed by working for the London Borough of Tower Hamlets servicing all of the boilers in the tower blocks in the borough. This he did until his very untimely death at the age of 56 years from lung cancer and a brain tumour. He passed away on the 26th of May 1976. He was a good man, had a great sense of humour, loved his family and West Ham United who he introduced me to at the age of 10 taking me regularly to watch them at Upton Park.