Recently I read A God In Ruins by Kate Atkinson for my
book club. It is the story of Teddy and his life pre, during and post WWII.
While it flipped backwards and forwards from Teddy’s childhood, through the
war, his marriage and children the part of the novel that hit home most with me
with was Teddy’s wartime experiences as an RAF bomber pilot. I continually
transposed Teddy with my Uncle Frank.
Frank Trevor Kelf was born
on 28 March 1923 and joined the RAAF in 1941 as a Flying Officer When he left
for training in Canada on one of the US Army troop carriers Frank carried with
him a diary and a small camera. Frank, aged 18 travelled from Sydney to
Dunnville, Canada via Cuba, Guantanamo, the USA, Montréal and finally arrived
in Dunnville, Ontario where he did his major training in flying and map reading.
Later he went to London and
finally was stationed with the RAF in Grangemouth in Scotland in 1943 where he
was shot down once, crash landed twice, once after an engine failure at
takeoff. By the end of the War he had 510 hours flying and 65 hours operational
flying. After his last crash he professed his nervousness during operational
flying and was somewhat doubtful of ever wanting to fly again. His Commanding
Officer said “he has however at all times been and extremely good officer.”
Initially his diary
entertains us with his “Contiki holiday”. Frank was continuously chronicling
the minutiae of his tour of duty. The stuff a young backpacker would write in postcards
or posts on Facebook to the friends back home.
We heard about most the thrills and spills, girls and pubs. He
celebrated his 20th birthday and reminded us he had missed two Christmases at
home but was welcomed into the homes of others.
His annotated collections of
photos take over from where the diary leaves off and are a mixture of larrikin
and perhaps the dawning horror of war.
For example, his squadron photos begin to be a countdown those who are “lost”
with “x”s through the men’s pictures.
His artistically composed
photos of aircraft are interspersed with smoky lines of a friend’ aircraft after
being shot down. Interspersed with graphic photos of dead Germans and injured
Japanese planes are shots of the “Boys Own Adventure”, a visit from the King
and Churchill, dead Germans, crashed planes and photos taken on missions.
Later in March 1944 when he
is posted to India, Libya and Burma he revels in the sights of snake charmers,
camel trains, Hindu culture the Taj Mahal and the Himalayan foothills amongst
other things.
At the conclusion of the story
Frank’s life departs from Teddy’s. (Both are shot down and while Frank moves to
India, Teddy is a prisoner of war.)
A
God in Ruins continues to chronicle Teddy’s life through
marriage to old age. It is clear both Teddy and Frank suffered from their
experiences and memories of that time. No doubt Frank came back a very
different person to the beloved son who went away to serve his country. Back in
Australia in 1945 he married Betty and later Aileen and fathered three lovely
children: Jillian, Airdrie and Chris. He joined the N.S.W. Fire Brigade and
went to the airport fire service. Sadly the demons of war haunted this man who
charmed people all over the world and his life ended too early in 1960. Frank
succumbed to his Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Our finest memory of Frank
is his portrait in the Australian War Memorial painted by war artist Sir William
Dargie. He was attracted Flying Officer Frank Kelf by the kerchief he wore.
Overall we have some strong memorabilia, his photographs, his diary, his
observations and sense of humour. Teddy’s story was fiction but Frank’s is
real.
We are thankful for Frank's
legacy of his diary and his annotated photos.
The night my book club met I
couldn’t wait to get the discussion of Teddy’s exploits over. I wanted to pass
around my “show and tell”- Flying Officer Frank Trevor Kelf’s memorabilia.
11/11/2016 Lest we Forget
