- Contributed by听
- Alfred Neale
- People in story:听
- Alfred S Neale and John Neale
- Background to story:听
- Army
- Article ID:听
- A2057762
- Contributed on:听
- 17 November 2003
I am convinced that survival in war is a matter of luck.
I have an identical twin brother, John, and in 1940-41 we were both involved in North Africa, Greece and Crete. I was a gunner and he flew Fleet Air Arm Swordfish bi-planes from HMS 'Illustrious'.
Lucky wartime meeting
By sheer luck we met up. A local fisherman sailed me out to 'Illustrious' in Alexandria harbour, where the quarter deck Lieutenant hailed me with, "Hello, Neale. What are you doing in that rig?" Unluckily, my brother had just gone ashore but contact had been made.
Alcoholic reunion
Later, when he was shore based for a brief rest after the FAA raid on Taranto, which crippled the Italian fleet in November 1940, he landed near my gun position on the way to Mersa Matruh. Lucky! We had a very alcoholic reunion and I had my first ever flight in a very patched 'Stringbag'. Lucky!
Mistaken identity
In February 1941 we were both in Greece and another sailor from 'Illustrious' mistook me for my brother despite my army rig. My hasty rendezvous next day was delayed by my rapid dispatch to the north of Greece with an anti-tank gun. Unlucky.
Lucky telephone call
We were both lucky to reach Crete: brother John from a tiny airfield in Greece and me from the rearguard at Porto Rafti and the destroyer 'Ashanti', via a caique in the dark. As I stumbled ashore in Suda Bay I passed a tent with nobody in it but a telephone on a table. Something made me pick it up and ask for the FAA. John鈥檚 CO told me he had just left for Alexandria in a barge with 120 German prisoners. Lucky.
Crete surrenders
On 1 June 1941 the island surrendered after heavy fighting and I was a POW for two and a half years. Unlucky.
For well over a year my parents had no idea whether I was dead or alive and I have always felt that they were the really unlucky ones. My twin reassured them by saying that he was sure he would know if the worst had happened.
Safely home
We both reached home safely. I landed in Liverpool from the British hospital ship 'Atlantis' on 26 October 1943 with the first ever batch of repatriated POWs, travelling via Poland, Stettin and Sweden. Lucky. The British medics saved my leg.
Brother John flew bi-planes for six years without a scratch. Lucky?!
Lucky support
I kept in touch with my POW pals until family commitments took over, but I can never forget the support they gave me in those dark days.
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