When I Was In The War: An Illustrated Memoir

My grandfather never spoke of the time he spent in the war. Whenever I, as a young and inquisitive boy, would ask him of the head-spinning adventures he had surely accumulated in those antique days, he’d just smile coyly, pat me gently upon my head and tell me in a warm voice that he would tell me the instant it became declassified. Then he would turn away and chuckle softly to himself for the rest of the evening, avoiding further conversation.

My parents were evidently only slightly less ill-informed than I on the subject. If questioned, they would become agitated or worried and quickly change the topic of conversation to Christmas lists or, in later years, hormones. All I managed to learn was that there were a good few years of my grandfather’s life that were unaccounted for by anyone.

As I matured, my fascination with my grandfather’s mystery life subsided a little, but never completely faded from consideration. Throughout high school and college, I always held out hope that he’d someday call me over to his mansion and tell me at least one war story. Those little moments of hope became a bad habit of mine that I just could not break, not even after my grandfather died in an earthquake. At his funeral, I wondered whether anything would be revealed in his will or that his death would prompt my parents into spilling some hitherto hidden secret.

It was only when the Cartilage Foundation approached my parents for permission to explore the ruins of my grandfather’s mansion with a scuba-diving team and recover his remains that I, to a small amount of ghoulish shame, finally got my childhood wish. In the attic of his mansion, the divers found a trunk full of what turned out to be souvenirs from his war days. There were old telegrams and official documents, a copy of his draft orders, a small flute, ceremonial trench knives, a leather suitcase, assorted knick knacks of unknown sentimental value and - the undisputable jewel of the collection: his handwritten war memoirs.

Many of the pages were waterlogged and unreadable, and some had apparently been purposefully removed, but I felt it was my duty to publish them. Not just because my grandfather played such an interesting part in the war and witnessed several key events, but also because so little written documentation exists to tell our future generations that it even happened.

It is my belief that these memoirs will serve as an important asset to historians and war enthusiasts for years to come. Though no photographs were found in the trunk, many sketches made by one of his comrades-in-arms were recovered and I have done my best to accurately portray the events my grandfather describes with my own illustrations.

For me, this is a lifelong dream come true. I hope that it can enlighten you and many others to this crucial and little-discussed part of our history and encourage others to research more deeply and widen the field. Thank you for reading, and I hope it proves educational.

Sincerely,
Tom McNally