This morning I watched as my Grandfather passed peacefully away at the age of 89. He had been taken ill on Christmas Day. Born in Liverpool in 1918 and a life long fan of Liverpool FC he joined the RAMC in 1940 and served through to 1946. He first saw action with the BEF and came back through Dunkirk with the evacuation. When he married aged 22 he was already a Sergeant (having been busted and come back up). He then fought through North Africa, Italy (including Monte Cassino) and ended the war in Austria. He only really talked about the war when I was cap badged to the RAMC as a TA medic and had gone on Telic. His stories included lying over the injured whilst being strafed on the beaches on Dunkirk and having his kit kicked back over the side of a ship because there was no room for it after he had waded out and climbed the netting. Also getting into landing craft as their transport ship was sunk and then getting shot at by the Germans in the olive groves as they landed in either Italy or North Africa. I was able to speak to him before he became unconcious and joked that after all the years paying his taxes he was at last getting something back with the hospital care - he actually laughed and agreed even knowing that he was probably on his way out. I am also thankful that I was able to go in and say thank you and goodbye just before the end. I had just had his medals mounted and framed with his photo before Xmas. He still got up every morning at 6am to shave and still wore a tie every day. They don't make them like that anymore. He was my hero.