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Chapter Five
- page 10
Nowhere in this ‘letter’, by now my father had clearly forgotten the original purpose for which he began writing and was perhaps almost reliving experiences which he had found exhilarating, does he mention the tragedy of the loss of his great friend, Captain Goldstone.
On Tuesday the 4th of Augus the ‘Richmond Castle’ whilst in the North West Atlantic was torpedoed and sunk. The crew took to the lifeboats and experienced very bad weather, amongst those that died of exposure was the Master, Captain T.C. Goldstone. This must have been for Geff a great personal tragedy. ‘Icky’ Goldstone and he had been junior officers together, shared barracks in the R.N.R; Icky had been Geff’s best man and was Godfather to my sister Penelope.
(For a more complete account of the sinking of the ‘Richmond Castle’ see The Life of John Cutcliff)
Another feature of my father’s reminiscences that illustrate him as a person is that his comment about his aging that night of the ‘Stirling Castle’ fire is the only reference he makes to the strain of his life. Always is he ready to mention the bravery and devotion to duty of others, never himself. Whilst many were decorated or rewarded by promotion for their efforts during the war my father began it as Marine Superintendent, Southampton and retired years later in the same position. He received no decorations, no letter of thanks, no recognition of any kind for his contribution to the war effort. But it is a fact that one may say that almost single handedly Geff set up and ran the Liverpool organisation and as such ran the Union-Castle Line. Although he never seemed to care about this I think deep down it did hurt, he often used to say ‘I am an O.B.E. (the Order of the British Empire) yes I’m the only blooming exception!’ The medal was one awarded to many for specific or general services and bravery hence all and sundry seemed to receive it, but not Geff.
Compared to many in those years we as a family were fortunate. We had no close relatives in active service and thus my parents did not as so many live in daily dread of the telegram boy. Neither did we like those people in occupied countries live in daily fear nor suffer undue deprivation as far as food was concerned. Yes we lived a nomadic life, living in one house for just so long then moving on to another. Food and clothing were rationed and sometimes when the shops were empty even that ration difficult to obtain but we never starved and indeed because so called ‘junk’ food was unknown to us, sweets and sugar a luxury our diet was a very healthy one. As children we saw wrecked aircraft, bombed buildings, convoys of military hardware heading to the docks, wounded men and our lives revolved around air-raid warnings, all clears and blackout regulations. It was ‘the war’ and that was that, it was the way we lived. My father became a remote figure, a man who came home late and left again early or often didn’t come home at all. It was my mother who kept the home going, often in fact I think always seeing to our various house moves on her own, it was exhausting for a fit person and my mother was far from that. Looking back today I think how wonderful both she and my father were.
As the war progressed my father spent more time away from home, much of it in Southampton where the build up for the invasion of Europe was in progress. Dad told me later of the roads leading to town being clogged with tanks, lorries and ‘ducks’, amphibious landing vehicles. Even peoples gardens were pressed into service as ‘parking’. In the port it was almost possible to walk across the decks of landing craft to the opposite side of Southampton Water, the port was packed with invasion craft.
Before the war ended we made yet another move, I recall a much smaller house in a suburb of Liverpool but not a great deal more. But this move I do clearly recall my mother and us children making on our own and this I think was when Geff was away at Southampton. I do not recall air-raids and I think it must have been after the Normandy landings, the German army in retreat and Southampton again safe to use as a port. Now my father spent even more time away making arrangements for the Company to return to Southampton.
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