
Veteran, 99, says there are ‘not many of us left' ahead of VJ Day anniversary
He said he was out in the Far East at the end of the war and described those who survived to celebrate as 'lucky fellas'.
Mr Shelley, who lives in a retirement housing complex in Southend, Essex, said he will turn 100 next month.
Dougie Shelley joined the Royal Navy aged 17 (Family handout/PA)
'Yep, an old, old sailor of 100 years old,' he said.
'There's not many of us left, mate. We've sailed the seven seas.'
He continued: 'At the end of the war we were out in the Far East but we came into Hong Kong, and that's where it was at the end of the war.
'We went into the China Fleet Club. Boy, did we have a lovely time.
'My god, all those lucky fellas.'
He served on several ships including the HMS Milne, which he described as 'the biggest ship the Royal Navy ever built' at the time.
'And boy what a ship,' said Mr Shelley.
His carer Paul Bennett, who served in the Army and met him at a local veterans club in 2016, said he will watch Friday's VJ Day memorial service on TV with Mr Shelley.
Mr Bennett, 77, said he spends two hours with Mr Shelley each day and does his shopping, cleaning, laundry and other tasks for him.
'I do it out of respect for him and his service,' said Mr Bennett.
'He was in the Arctic Convoys in the war.
'He was in the (HMS) Milne and the (HMS) Armada.'
Mr Bennett said Mr Shelley 'spent his life as an able seaman, he never got promoted or anything – failed his bosuns exams because he had eye trouble'.
'He tells me he got sunk twice when he was in the Arctic and managed to survive both sinkings,' he said.
'Then he was there on D-Day in the Milne supporting the chaps going off to land in craft ashore in Normandy and he was a gunner keeping the skies clear of enemy aircraft and all that sort of thing.
Dougie Shelley turns 100 in September (Stefan Rousseau/PA)
'So, he's done his bit.
'He always says to me he misses the people he served with.
'The problem of course now is there's none of them left.'
Mr Shelley, who has no known surviving family, followed his brother and uncle into the Royal Navy.
Mr Bennett said: 'His claim to fame is he lied about his age to join the Navy and got in, and he said it was the best time of his life.
'He left the Navy in 1947, did a few jobs, then went back into the Merchant Navy for some years.'
He said Mr Shelley worked on ships taking so-called Ten Pound Poms to Australia and also had jobs in security and as a driver for the Ministry of Defence.
One of Mr Shelley's roles on the HMS Milne was as the 'rum bosun', Mr Bennett said, and Mr Shelley would sound a pipe and call 'up spirits' before the daily rum ration was given out.

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Spectator
14 minutes ago
- Spectator
How the second world war shaped the sons of its soldiers
The 80th anniversary of VJ Day today marks the passing of the generation that took part in the second world war. The few surviving veterans must now be a hundred years old, or virtually so. They are departing; most have already left. This seems an appropriate moment to reflect upon the next generation, those whose fathers fought in the war and who grew up in its shadow. Much has been written about the luck of the 'baby boomers', those born in the two decades after the war, who benefitted from post-war prosperity, buying houses cheaply and seeing their values soar. Later generations have envied their affluence. But less has been written about their mindset, which was so much shaped by the recent past. One might argue that as children, boomers were inculcated with one set of values, which as adults they were then pressured to renounce. I am thinking especially of the boys, though of course women played a significant role in the war effort, and what they experienced must have influenced their daughters too. But for boys the war was formative; for better or worse, it sculpted their sense of what it meant to be a man. I am one of those myself, born less than ten years after the fighting finished. I grew up in a capital in which the effects of bombing were still visible in the occasional bomb sites which made exciting though generally forbidden places to play. For us, 'the war' meant the second world war, without need for further identification. War stories were ubiquitous, on the screen and in print; James Bond had served in the war, as had George Smiley. In the boys' comics of my childhood, gallant British Tommies invariably overcame superior numbers of Germans, who were portrayed as mindless automatons and referred to contemptuously as 'Krauts' or 'Jerries'. (This was at a time when the United Kingdom was seeking German help to join the European Economic Community.) We boys played a game called 'commandoes', loosely based on war stories we had imbibed. Our fathers had lived through the war. Many of them had served in the forces; their uniforms could be found hanging at the back of wardrobe. So had most of the schoolmasters who taught us. I remember one who had several fingers missing from one hand, and another whose face was terrifyingly scarred by burns. In my teens I once played squash against the father of a girlfriend, a fighter pilot with a 'gammy leg' as a result of injuries sustained when his plane had come down (he trounced me nonetheless). I am named after an uncle who had been rushed through training as a pilot and was killed in a plane crash on his 19th birthday. All the men we looked up to had been affected by the war, or so it seemed. Even those who had not been in combat had been damaged. The father of a schoolfriend of mine had been in the camps and was still so traumatised that the sight of anyone in uniform, even a humble traffic warden, could cause him to panic. It is a commonplace that sons model themselves on their fathers. For boys of my generation, their fathers' war records could be a source of pride or shame. I was immensely proud of my father's service as a naval officer and remain so, even since I discovered that some of what I had been led to believe was not wholly true. (His uniform still hangs at the back of my wardrobe.) I remember the state funeral of Sir Winston Churchill in 1965, a solemn occasion in which (so it seemed) the whole nation was in mourning. We accepted the myth that Churchill had promulgated: that the period after the fall of France, when Britain had stood alone against the Axis powers, had been our finest hour and that the eventual defeat of Nazi Germany made all the sacrifices worthwhile. What were the qualities we were taught to admire? Courage – obviously, duty, obedience, self-denial, reticence, restraint. These were the qualities that had won the war, or at least these were the qualities that had enabled our fathers to survive it. This is what being a man meant, then. They are not values that resonate today. Rather than keeping a stiff upper lip, we are encouraged to show our emotions; rather than keeping it in, we are supposed to let it all out. Like most of us today, I share these modern, peacetime values; yet I retain a respect for the men of my father's generation. Without them, our lives would have been very different. 'I'm no good at being noble,' Rick tells Ilsa in Casablanca (1942), 'but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.' Rick, played by Humphrey Bogart, renounces his love for Ilsa, played by Ingrid Bergman, so that she can be with her husband, a resistance leader. He sacrifices personal happiness for the greater good. In The English Patient (1996), the moral is the opposite: the protagonist Almasy, played by Ralph Fiennes, is willing to surrender secret maps to his German captors if they will help him to find his beloved. The contrasting messages of these two films show how far we have come.


Metro
14 minutes ago
- Metro
How a remote Royal Navy base celebrated VJ Day - and the horrors they saw after
Bill Jones witnessed the horrors of the war against Japan after the enemy surrendered on VJ Day Each year that August 15 rolls around, William 'Bill' Jones casts his mind back to VJ Day. It was when, 80 years ago, that Japan announced it had surrendered to the Allied Forces. And while thousands of people in the UK held street parties and parades celebrating the end, Bill's memories from that time are far more bittersweet. The 99-year-old was 14 and living in Penistone, South Yorkshire, when the UK and France declared war on Germany in September 1939 a few days after the Nazis invaded Poland. Six years later, he had been sent 8,500 miles away to a remote Pacific Island, waiting for news of a surrender from Japan. Sign up for all of the latest stories Start your day informed with Metro's News Updates newsletter or get Breaking News alerts the moment it happens. Bill Jones joined the Navy when he was just 18 (Picture:Royal British Legion) He had decided when he was 18 he would join the Navy in 1944, which led him being trained for combat and sent into action. But instead of fighting German U-Boats in the Atlantic, he was dispatched to the Pacific, where Japanese forces were stubbornly resisting allied advances. The veteran said: 'I had been an engineer, so they made me a metal worker. We went out in a liner all the way to Australia, where we took a carrier into the war zone. That's when it started.' In March 1945, his team of engineers landed in a little coral island of Ponam, off the north coast of Papua New Guinea. By that time, the war in the Pacific had advanced with ruthless intensity. Bill worked on Ponam (pictured) repairing British aircraft during the last months of the war (Picture: Royal British Legion) Bill recalled: 'The Kamikazes were attacking our ships, so we were busy assembling, maintaining and repairing aircrafts for our carriers.' When the war in Europe ended, there was still no end in sight for Bill and his British comrades. Despite the devastating fire-bombing of their cities and the crippling of their armed forces, the Japanese refused to surrender in Asia. Just as Bill was planning to take a Dakota transport plane to Australia for some well-earned rest, the world changed forever. On August 6, the US dropped a nuclear bomb on the city of Hiroshima, killing 70,000 people instantly. Three days later, another one landed on Nagasaki, killing another 40,000 in the blink of an eye. The moment the Nagasaki bomb detonated, as seen from 9.6km away (Picture: Getty) It took just six more days, until August 15, for the Japanese Emperor to concede his country's defeat in a radio broadcast to his people. So it was in a stiflingly-hot, mosquito-riven island when Bill heard that the Second World War had finally come to an end. The news triggered raucous celebrations across the Navy base – including with one unique tradition carried out across the Pacific. It might seem unusual now, but sailors in the Royal Navy had a daily allowance of rum, called a 'tot', an equivalent to about two shots. But on special celebratory occasions, the order was given to 'splice the mainbrace' and allow for the soldiers to have an extra tot of rum. On VJ day, Bill and his fellow soldiers were delighted to learn they could have an extra tot, and embarked across their own parties on the island. He even has a picture of the day, giving a clue about what they all got up to now that his memories have faded. An image from Ponam, believed to be VJ Day – celebrations in full swing. Bill is bottom right, wearing an American hat (Picture:Royal British Legion) But after several days of celebrations, the servicemen were soon reminded of the horrors of war that people across the globe had faced. Two Dakota jets, originally lined up to take Bill and his comrades to Australia before they headed back to the UK, were diverted to Japan to collect prisoners of war. 'On their way back, the Dakotas stopped off at Ponam to refuel,' Bill said. Japanese treated prisoners of war brutally. Pictured is a Japanese camp for British POWs at Kamburi (Picture: Imperial War Museum) 'The prisoners were as thin as rakes, and covered with bruises where they had been beaten, some of them had been prisoners for over three years. 'The canteen prepared food for them but they couldn't eat it. I've never seen anything like it my life, what happened to them. 'We put them back on the planes as soon as possible, to get them to hospital in Australia.' According to the Imperial War Museum, Japan's early successes in East Asia during the Second World War resulted in more than 190,000 British and Commonwealth troops being taken prisoner. It added that at the time, the Japanese military's philosophy was that 'anyone surrendering was beneath contempt.' This means prisoners were held in brutal camps and forced to work exhausting infrastructure projects. Prisoners working on a railway bridge between Thailand & Burma during the second world war. 26,000 Allied prisoners of war who were forced to work on the project died from ill-treatment, malnutrition & disease (Picture: BBC Picture Archives) One of these was the Burma-Thailand 'Death Railway', of which 16,000 died in the brutal construction. British, Commonwealth and Indian troops meanwhile fought Japanese soldiers during the Burma Campaign from December 1941 to September 1945 in the Second World War. The conditions they faced were unimaginable, said Mark Cann, who is the director of the Burma Star Memorial Fund, which honours those who fought during that time. He told Metro: 'They were in this hot, humid jungle full of snakes and spiders and raging river torrents, and nonstop rain. 'There were diseases: dysentery, malaria and cholera. British Commandos wading ashore at Myebon, Burma from a Royal Indian Navy landing craft in January 1945 (Picture: Collection/ANL/Shutterstock) 'The enemy were absolutely terrifying, uncompromising and initially perceived as the real experts of that terrain. 'The fact that they had all of that, all at once, for a sustained period, is what I think we can never really fully understand.' It is because of all of these challenges that when VJ Day arrived, it was a moment of celebration as much as remembrance, Mark said. 'People were celebrating the fact they'd survived. It was a moment of euphoria. It was a moment of 'Bloody hell, I've survived. Thank God. It's over and we won',' he added. Campaigners and charities have said that this year's VJ Day carries extra weight, as it's likely to be the last opportunity to recognise the sacrifices of veterans while a handful of them are still alive. Bill has never forgotten what he saw when those liberated soldiers landed back in Ponam. (Picture:Royal British Legion) Mark added: 'The opportunity VJ80 represents to lay strong foundations for the future is an opportunity not to be missed. 'The life we enjoy now has always, and will always, be preserved by young people marching towards danger, to stand in harm's way for us and the values we hold dear as a nation. 'The debt we owe those young people is immense and we will continue to do everything possible to ensure it is never forgotten.' For Bill, who returned to the UK on Christmas Eve in 1945, it's the servicemen who never made it home that he pays tribute to. 'I was very lucky that I was in the right place at the right time. If I mark VJ Day, it's for the lads that lost their lives.' Bill will be attending the Royal British Legion's Service of Remembrance at the National Memorial Arboretum, which is broadcast live on BBC One from 11:30am. Get in touch with our news team by emailing us at webnews@ For more stories like this, check our news page. Arrow MORE: The rudest name ever for a video game was a complete accident Arrow MORE: How four people survived one of the deadliest plane crashes that killed 520 Arrow MORE: Meet Britain's Doomsday preppers stockpiling for World War Three


Scotsman
14 minutes ago
- Scotsman
VJ Day : 101 -year-old veteran of Far East celebrated at care home in Edinburgh
Medals polished, Burma veteran Tom Guild will mark VJ Day with both reflection and pride. Sign up to our History and Heritage newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... A veteran believed to be the last living Scot to hold the Burma Star will be honoured at his care home in Edinburgh today (Friday). Stuart Guild, 101, a former Lieutenant Colonel, is a resident of Manor Care Home in the south west of the city where VJ Day commemorations will be held to mark the 80th anniversary of the Japanese surrender. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad A piper and a standard bearer for the Royal Artillery Association, along with several fellow members, will join Mr Guild along with friends and family for the occasion. READ MORE: Ahmadiyya Muslims in Scotland mark VJ day with gratitude and prayers for peace Mr Guild, who remains in good health apart from deafness caused by 'gunner's ear', was in Rangoon in then Burma when VE Day was declared in May 1945, but his return home to Scotland was to remain two years away as war and its aftermath held the Far East. For Mr Guild, the VJ Day anniversary is a chance to remember the 'forgotten war'. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad He said: 'There was a great emphasis on Europe , and they heard about everybody celebrating in London, but we had to just carry on ,which was quite hard. . 'Even now most people know about VE Day, but not so many about VJ Day.' Mr Guild was still at school in Edinburgh when he signed up for war, putting his plans for university, a law degree and a place at his father's law firm on hold. He served in 37/47 Field Battery, later to become 93 ( Le Cateau) Battery, in the Far East from 1944. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad He recalled the conditions in Burma, now Myanmar, as 'very hot and humid' as they fought through jungle to halt the Japanese advance. He added: 'When men died , they were buried very quickly. The landscape was a mixture of jungle and rolling hills. You couldn't go off the path in the jungle or you'd get lost. Also the Japanese could be well concealed. On the hills, the Japanese built tunnels." 'They were a sneaky enemy,' he said. After VJ Day, he remained on active service in Malaya and French Indochina and was not demobbed until 1947, when he returned to Scotland and later worked as a lawyer. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Scottish regiments in Burma included the The 1st Battalion of the Royal Scots Fusiliers, who fought in the Arakan and the advance on Mandalay. Meanwhile, the 1st Battalion of the Royal Scots lost 89 men, with more than 200 wounded, in the intense fighting around Kohima in India. The names of those who fell will be read at a commemoration service for VJ Day at Lauriston Castle, Edinburgh, on Saturday. Around 186 men from the regiment who were taken Prisoner of War died in the sinking of the Lisbon Maru as it sailed from Shanghai to Japan in September 1942. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Today, a 99-year-old Scottish veteran who helped to evacuate Prisoners of War after VJ Day said the horrors of war 'should never be forgotten'. Albert Lamond, who lives in McKellar House at Erskine Veterans Village in Renfrewshire, served in the Royal Navy in the Pacific in the lead up to August 15, 1945. On HMS Rowley, his job was to evacuate allied POWS from remote islands and transport them to Australia. He was 19 at the time and recalled the men appearing like 'living skeletons'.