William Killey
As a child, I was one of the first in our street to have a T.V.
It had a beautiful walnut cast and it had the name ‘Ferranti’ emblazoned on the front. There is no doubt that it transformed the life of my family, bringing into the living room such treasures as Bill and Ben, The Lone Ranger and the very first episode of Coronation Street. However, there was one gap in out T.V. lifestyle. This happened around tea time on a Sunday when both channels (there were only two in those days) broadcast a range of religious programs. These couldn’t compete with Tonto or Popeye so our family devised many wheezes to overcome this gap. Board games, table tennis, or listening to Radio Luxembourg all provided a solution, but the best way to cross the gap was to get dad to tell us about his war exploits. He’d been an aircrafstman with the R.A.F and had been stationed in North Africa. Sometimes; on a good day, he’d take out a brown leather portmanteau and show us his wartime mementos. Pictures of pyramids and camels, shot down Spitfires, medals soon spilled across the table, but there was also a little bit of sadness amongst the collection. This was a newspaper clipping that told the story of my father’s next door neighbour. There was a faded picture of a young sailor, looking about the same age as my dad in his war-time photographs. It told the story of his loss at sea.
Well, as the years went by, sadly I lost my dad and having an older brother, I also lost that portmanteau, although, I did manage to scan all of the treasures before passing it over. Then, one day, something very strange happened. I was on holiday on the Scilly Islands; the last day of a wonderful week. Unfortunately, the weather wasn’t too good and having nothing else to do I decided to take a short walk to the churchyard at Old Town, having been told that I would find the grave of our old Prime Minister, Harold Wilson lying there.
Well, I hunted and searched for quite some time in the steadily increasing drizzle, all to no avail. I was just about to give up and to retreat to somewhere more dry when suddenly, I tripped. My hand went out automatically to stop myself falling. I found that I’d steadied myself on a gravestone, but when I looked down and saw the name on the grave, my heart missed a beat. It belonged to seaman Killey. It was as though he wanted to be found.
Following the discovery, I undertook a little more research. Killey had been a member of the crew of H.M.S. Warwick, a World War 1 destroyer that had been returned to service for World War 2. On the twentieth of February 1944 she had been on patrol off the coast, near Padstow when a German u-boat, U-413, launched a torpedo and sent her to the bottom. Half of the crew were lost. Evidently William Killey’s body washed up on the Scillies.
Sometimes we bump into friends and relatives in the most unexpected places. It was just such a shame that I couldn’t share this story with my dad. He’d have loved to have heard this tale.
Written by: Philip Edwards
Tattyjacket
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- William Killey - July 2, 2014
