“My Father, Alan Williamson, always regarded his war as
six
wasted years. He was enlisted into the Nottingham and South
Derby Dragoon Guards as a gunner and for the first few years of
the war moved about from place to place training. Sometimes he
would be stationed near to Bridlington and when that was the
case he would come home to see my Mother and brother David.
One weekend he brought home a friend he had made called Rayner
Heppenstall. Rayner (Hepp), was very different from the usual
non-commissioned ranks of the army having had a university
education both in Leeds and Strasbourg. My Father always had a
thirst for knowledge and would no doubt latch on to Rayner
recognising here was a man from a world he knew little about.
My Uncle, was an avid reader. Every week he
would go to his village library. One week he borrowed a book
entitled "Lesser Infortune". As Harold read through the
story he realised here was an account of my Father's regiment.
Before his next visit to Bridlington he borrowed the book from
the library to show my Father. The story written by Rayner
Heppenstall outlines the early war years of those in the Notts
and S. Derbyshire Regiment. Rayner never actually saw action as
he had a nervous breakdown and spent most of the war in a
psychiatric hospital. However in the story he wrote a very short
account of my Mother and Father and his painting of his first
portrait.
My Father, he named Perce Whitfield. He liked Perce and his
pretty wife, and was very taken with Perce's ability to season and stain wood.
In fact my Father helped him to make a painting palette. To express his
gratitude Rayner painted his first ever portrait of my Father. Though my Father
is now dead, I still have this painting. Unfortunately my father never liked it
and one day, in the 1970s, he decided to use the canvass to paint over the portrait
his own picture of Bridlington Priory. In retrospect, I wonder if this was an
act of defiance about what the war had cost him. I am now considering the
possibility of having this painting restored.
My Father was one of two soldiers chosen from his regiment to go
with one of his commanding officers into a new commando unit
that was being formed towards the latter end of the war. At the
time they had no idea that this was in preparation for the D.Day
invasion.Towards the end of May 1944 he was sent home to see his
family and when he returned the long awaited invasion was upon
them. Being in the commando unit my Father was on the Normandy
beaches very early on in the conflict. It was an experience he
spoke about rarely but the memories were there.”