Carn Brea

Story

Samuel John, popularly known as "Jack", was born in Pool near Redruth in Cornwall.  He had four sisters and one young brother.  His father was a tine miner.  Not much is known about his early life except for the letters he sent during the war. One military search site has a record for him in 1914.  If that is true he mus have joined up at the age of 15 and presumably lied abouth his age, perhaps explaining why he joined the Wilstshire Regiment rather than the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry which would have been the regiment of choice for a Cornishman. It would appear that he met a nurse, Sally, and she became his girlfriend. His letters home are very poignant and written very much as he would have spoken in a Cornish dialect; "I don't want for you to send me any fags..." The letters are from a young man perhaps excited to be travelling but still very much thinking of his father and mother at home. The letter card he sent from Southampton was the last he sent. The letters from Sally reveal the anguish of so many so-called ordinary families at this time. The letter from the army telling Mrs James he was missing is written on a little scrap of paper, in pencil and comes from the Chaplain. There is also a letter from one of his friends to Sally highlighting his annoyance that his girlfriend has got married while he was away.  It also contains this very telling sentence; "...I saw nothing of poor Jim (Samuel John) after we went in the trenches on the 21st of March 1918". Samuel John was one of many millions who gave their life in the dreadful conflict that was World War One. He died at just nineteen years of age.  The letters from his friends show he was cared about and remembered. He still is and, like all the others, should never be forgotten.   Courtesy of Jeremy Julian - great nephew of Samuel John James

Story

Sitting alone in a pew towards the rear of Illogan parish church, Bernard Gronert’s thoughts travel back to 1944 and the day he skipped in from school to find his father and mother wracked with grief. Their home in the village of Tregajorran, on the slopes of Carn Brea, near Redruth, would never be the same again. Bernard’s twin brothers, Claude and Tommy, had been cut down by a German sniper within moments of each other as their platoon attempted to storm a position in the Dutch town of Oosterbeek during the Battle of Arnhem which began 70 years ago yesterday. (SEP 17) “I remember it very clearly,” said Bernard. “A telegram had been delivered. Mother was crying and father was comforting her. Everything changed. Mother never really got over it and she cried a lot for the rest of her life.” Tommy and Claude, like many young men, had left their protected jobs underground at South Crofty mine to fight fascism. “They didn’t tell my parents what they were planning to do, and when they came home and said they’d joined up it broke my mother’s heart,” he said. “I can still see her crying and asking them why they’d done it. They didn’t have to go because they were miners at Crofty, but a cousin of ours who was already in the army came home with a lot of stories and I think Tom and Claude were just attracted to the fun of it.” The Battle of Arnhem raged from 17 to 26 September 1944, German forces eventually defeating the Allied attack. Tommy and Claude, who were aged 21, were with 6 Platoon, B Company of the 2nd Parachute Battalion as British and Polish troops took part in an ill-fated action named Operation Market Garden. On Sunday 17 September 1944, the twins parachuted on to Drop Zone X near Heelsum in Holland. It was while attempting to take a railway depot that the platoon came under heavy machine gun and sniper fire. There were numerous casualties, including the commanding officer. Claude and Tommy are buried next to each other in the Airborne Cemetery at Oosterbeek. Their names (sadly, misspelt) are recorded on a memorial in St Illogan churchyard. Now 82, their younger brother says he will never forget the lads’ exuberant characters and zest for life. “They were talked about often in the years afterwards,” said Bernard, who at the time shared a cottage at Tregajorran with his dustman father Robert, mother Lylie, and four step-siblings. “We tried to think of the good times, but Christmas and birthdays were awful.” After the war ended in 1945, and in spite of her terrible grief, Lylie Gronert was certain of one thing: she would never let another son take up arms. So when Bernard received his call-up papers for National Service a few years later, she went straight to the door of her local MP and demanded he be excused on compassionate grounds. “She got her way, too,” recalls Bernard. “Though it made no difference in the end – because I failed the medical.” Joining in the hymns and prayers at a special remembrance service in St Illogan Parish Church, he added: “I think it is important for my family to continue remembering my brothers and for everyone to remember all the boys who gave their lives.” Primarily a commemoration of those who lost their lives in the Battle of Britain, the service was led by the Reverend Charles Sargent. Various branches of the services, including the Royal Air Force Association, Royal British Legion and Veterans’ Association attended the service alongside veterans and serving personnel from RAF Portreath. West Briton dated 17 September 2014 After receiving our orders, Lieutenant Cane led us through a few back gardens towards the railway viaduct. We turned left on to a track opposite the railway station. Tommy Gronert and I were the forward scouts and we were shot at almost immediately. We took cover behind a rise. The order came through to push on, which we did. virtually straight away a bullet hit the track exactly between Tommy and myself. it looked as if there was a sniper in the vicinity. We again took cover. Tommy carried on and reached the end of a sort of railway barrier made of upright railway sleepers. I heard Tommy shouting that there were Germans approaching from the other side of the railway track. Again the order came to advance and Tommy moved on to the railway track with others. At that moment, Claude Gronert, Tommy's twin brother, was nearby. Our lads were in the open with absolutely no cover. I had just got to the end of the upright sleepers, but every time I showed my head I was fired at. Then I heard Tommy call out that he had been hit. Apparently he had been shot in the mouth, the bullet passing through the back of his neck. It all happened in a few seconds. Nobody had a ghost of a chance in that open space. There was no way we could get help to the men and the rest of us who were not in the open decided to move back under cover of a wooden barrier, which was the only available protection. We had no way out. A German machine gun caused the most damage and any move we tried to make was met by fire. When we returned after the shooting had died down it was a terribly sad sight that met our eyes, Lieutenant Cane said a few words and then died. Tommy and Claude Gronert, the twins, lay close to one another. Both dead. Claude had received three bullets through the top of his tin hat. For me it was a shattering blow because we had been friends for a long time. All three of us came from Cornwall and had joined the Paras in 1943 from the same unit. Their army numbers were 5511523 and 5511524, while mine was 5511508. Taken from The Western Morning News dated 13 September 2014.