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A son remembers a father’s service

Second World War veteran John Rhys pens memoir
John Rhys

Notified by an observation tower that a single-engine plane was spotted sputtering and appeared to be having mechanical problems, John Rhys rushed to a nearby field with two other members of his company.

There they spotted a crashed Me109 that slid into a hedge after making a belly landing. As Rhys approached the Messerschmitt aircraft, considered by many the backbone of the German Luftwaffe’s fighter force, a road maintenance group of German prisoners of war also arrived with their three British guards to help. The pilot looked at Rhys and the uniformed prisoners and assumed he was in German-occupied territory.

He was not. He was in Allied-occupied Normandy.

The pilot quickly saluted Rhys and said, “Heil Hitler.”

Heil Hitler,” responded Rhys. “Sie sind jetzt ein Englischer Kriegsgefangener.”

Translation: You are now a British POW.

This is but one of many detailed accounts of the military service of West Vancouver resident John Rhys, who began his army service in the Second World War in 1942 when he turned 19 years old.

A British subject, Rhys was born and raised in Berlin. He spoke fluent German, and that served him well later in his military career when he worked with the Planning and Intelligence Section of the Control Commission in France and Berlin.

Among his duties was gathering and processing German POWs, mostly at the front lines at first, then at large POW camps that housed thousands.

The POWs were also checked for special tattoos in their armpits that indicated membership in elite combat units such as the SS, parachute regiments, or commandos. Those so identified were separated from the group and sent to England immediately due to higher incidents of escape attempts.

Originally assigned to No. 10 Company, the Pioneer Corps, Rhys’ military service took many twists and turns throughout the war, most of which are recorded in great detail in Memoirs of a Soldier: An Autobiography by John Rhys, self-published in December 2008.

The memoirs were written by John and compiled and bound by his son David. The finished product was presented to John by his son for Christmas about eight years ago. Just five copies were made, meant only for family and friends.

The memoirs include more detail of the Me109 pilot, including the fact that he turned out to be a highly decorated officer with a Knight’s Cross on his lapel (one of the highest German awards for valour). He also escaped the POW camp a few days after his capture, but was picked up by French police later the same day because he looked suspicious despite trying to pass as a local: he was wearing a Sunday suit midweek.

John Rhys received many recognitions over the years for his service and was recently awarded the Legion of Honour, the highest French order for military and civil merit. But his unique story from the war is one that seems unbelievable at times.

john Rhys medals
photo Cindy Goodman

His son Brian recounts his own high school experiences with teachers and fellow students who didn’t believe that his father was a Second World War veteran despite all the medals, documents, photos, and memorabilia the family still has in its possession. Some doubted the tales themselves and some doubted Brian’s stories because of John’s age. He became a father in his late 40s, so there was quite an age difference between him and his sons.

Brian’s 11-year-old son Braden has also encountered some of the same reactions so is not keen on telling stories of his grandfather’s service because he doesn’t think anyone will believe him – this despite the fact that Brian says his son is “very proud of his grandpa.”

At the time of Brian’s interview with the North Shore News, his father John was living in a care centre in West Vancouver. He had Lewy Body dementia and Parkinson’s disease. Three generations of Rhys men gathered at the centre in late January for a photo to accompany this story. It was the last time Braden saw his grandfather. Just days after the photo was taken,

John’s health took a downturn and he passed away last week with his wife Pat by his side. Brian wanted his father’s story to be told as both an homage to his dad’s service and a positive memory for Braden.

Due to his dementia, John was unable to be interviewed for this story, but his memoirs, written over several years, tell an amazing tale.

Born in Berlin in 1923 to a German mother and English father, who both worked at a large flour mill, John witnessed the rise of Hitler’s National Socialist Party after they won the 1932 government election. In his memoirs, he recalls various annual special celebrations, such as Hitler’s birthday, marked with massive parades and stadium rallies.

He talks about the paramilitary groups that became highly visible at these events: the SA (also known as the Brownshirts or Stormtroopers) and the SS (who were black-uniformed elite guards). He recalls details of colourful banners, uniformed Hitler Youth, bands, and “goosestepping marching units.” At night there were fireworks and “light domes” created by anti-aircraft searchlights.

During that time, many didn’t realize the pageantry would turn into the horror it eventually did, notes John.

But by late August 1939, political tensions had reached a boiling point and the family fled Berlin on the last diplomatic train to London with only what they could carry. Expecting to return at some point soon after, they didn’t realize at the time they were abandoning all their possessions, property and assets.

They didn’t know the Second World War was about to begin. The train departed just hours before Britain declared war on Germany.

The family arrived in London with hardly any money and were left standing on a deserted railway platform with nowhere to go. They finally found a place to stay at a house run by the Salvation Army.

Creating a new life in England, John lived through the early days of the war including “the Blitz” (heavy air raids carried out by Germany over Britain in 1940 and 1941). In his memoirs John recalls that many Londoners were still pretty casual about the air alerts and regular pass-overs by German aircraft in the early days of 1940.

One Saturday in the summer of that year, he was attending a dog racing event with his dad at a stadium in North London when air raid sirens wailed. Only a few people left the stadium, which had more than 1,000 fans in attendance.

Seemingly not realizing the fleet of bombers overhead were flying in a swastika formation, the crowd started cheering. John doesn’t know why the crowd cheered. He assumes it was either because they were impressed with the flying or happy they weren’t being bombed.

Not long after that, German air activity increased, culminating in daily devastating attacks and nighttime incendiary raids that caused terrible carnage.

John Rhys
John Rhys poses in uniform in the garden of his London home at the age of 19, just after he joined the army. photo supplied

After enlisting in the British military, John would later join Allied forces on the beaches of Normandy, although not part of the initial invasion.

He describes walking past the dead and injured and states in his memoirs: “These sights were emotionally overwhelming but being preoccupied with our own tasks, and now struggling through the soft churned-up sand dunes, with wind-blown sand sticking to everything that had become damp from the sea water, we became fatalistic and stoic in these extraordinary surroundings.”

Statements like these reveal John’s character.

Brian explains that his father was a very personal man who didn’t talk much about his war experience. When he did, he didn’t glorify it and left out many details. It was only through reading his memoirs that Brian and the rest of the family finally heard the whole story.

It is a story that includes a visit to Hitler’s Reich Chancellery, which was “in shambles” at the end of the war, and accompanying a U.S. intelligence unit entering the underground Fuhrerbunker (Hitler’s bunker) nine metres below ground and topped by six metres of reinforced concrete in a garden in Berlin.

It had already been occupied by the Russians after Hitler and his wife Eva Braun committed suicide, but there was still plenty to witness.

Exploring its 30 rooms, John’s group came upon Hitler’s lounge where they saw the bloodstained velvet couch and carpet where Hitler had reportedly slumped over after shooting himself in the head while biting a cyanide capsule. Braun bit into a capsule at the other end of the couch. All the smells and sights are well documented in John’s memoirs.

After the war, John continued to serve in various roles until 1949 when he sailed across the Atlantic to New York, stayed for a few days, then took a train to the West Coast and arrived in Vancouver. There he met Pat, who had also emigrated from England. They married in 1962 and had two sons: David and Brian.  

Brian calls his father’s memoirs, on file at the Imperial War Museum in London, an important historical account to pass on.

“It was so sort of unbelievable and such a surreal story,” he says adding first-hand accounts from veterans are invaluable in truly understanding the realities of war and the sacrifices made by his father and others who served.

John lived at the care centre for the past five years, and Brian says he had good days and bad days, his memory acting like a series of doors opening and closing. Some unexpected memories would float to the surface, while more obvious ones disappeared, seemingly lost forever.

His dementia symptoms worsened in the past few months, and Brian recalls trying to ask him specific questions about his war experience for this story, including how it was at the end, and one of the phrases that came out loud and clear was: “Hell of a mess, hell of a mess.”

In lieu of a memorial and flowers, John’s family is asking any donations be made to the Salvation Army, as per John’s wishes, since the organization helped his family so much when they escaped Berlin to London.