As we approach Remembrance Sunday, my thoughts go back to the last war - getting out at Dunkirk; later, as a prisoner of war, suffering the friendly fire from Allied bombers which killed some of my mates; watching the degradation and liquidation of the Jews; being on the "Death March" from Poland to Munich.
The only counselling I received on return to England was from a doctor on an airfield near Aylesbury, who, as I stood before him naked, showing him my badly set broken fingers and the multiple boils on my body, gave me a sympathetic smile.
No doubt the poor devils much worse off than us - the prisoners of the Japanese - received the same counselling. Could I, as a man of 78 years, having seen a bit of life, apply for the job of counsellor to the counsellors?
A W AYLWARD
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