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C/Sgt Herbert Arthur Livett . British Army 1st Battalion Kings Royal Rifle Corps
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P/O. Gordon Archie Livingston . Royal Canadian Air Force 419 (Moose) Squadron from Vancouver. British Columbia (d.14th Apr 1945) P/O Gordon Livingston a Flight Engineer based at Middleton St George.
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Pte. James Govan "Jock" Livingston . British Army 2nd Battalion. F Coy. Scots Guards from Ayrshire, Scotland Do not know much about my father, James Livingston's war service. Only that he was with the 8th Army in North Africa and was later in Italy and Europe.
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S. G. Livingston . Royal Canadian Air Force 419 Sqd.
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Flying Officer B A "Rocky" Livingstone . RAF 59 Squadron
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F/Lt. David Livingstone DFC.. Royal New Zealand Air Force 154 Squadron. from Cambridge, New Zealand
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F/O. Ian Frederick Livingstone . Royal Air Force 83 Sqd. from Stirling, Scotland (d.9th Mar 1942) Ian Frederick Livingstone was my Mother`s first cousin, their mothers were sisters. Ian volunteered for the RAF and flew many raids over Germany with the 83 Squadron, including night raids over Essen. It was on this last raid on 9/3/1942 flying an Avro Manchester, he was returning home and was shot down off the coast of Holland. All crew were killed.
His dog tags were retrieved by a young Dutch man, who hid them for the duration of WW2. When the War ended he handed in the Dog tags to the relevant authority, who were able to pass on this information to his Mother, my Great-Aunt Katherine Livingstone. She was able to visit the Dutch family for many years after, thanking them. They looked after Ian's Grave and then as each member grew older, the task was handed down to the next generation. Ian was 25 years of age when he died and is buried in Bergen Cemetery, Holland. He is commemorated in a stained glass window in his local Church in Stirling and also in Edinburgh Castle in the RAF book.
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Gdsm. James Anderson Livingstone . British Army Scots Guards from Hounslow, Middlesex James Anderson Livingstone of the Scots Guards won many boxing championship cups.
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Pte. John Livingstone . Seaforth Highlanders 2nd Battalion from Newtongrange (d.31st January 1943) Today, 25th October 2017, I opened up a Midlothian New Battle Newtongrange history post. On looking at the first picture I saw the name John Livingstone on a short list of the dead.
John died on 31st of January 1943 long before I was born, but I remember my family mentioning my dad had an elder brother who was killed in the Second World War. I decided to investigate further and found this was indeed my uncle John, son of my late grandad Adam and gran Margaret Livingstone from Mansfield Newtongrange.
John died of war time injuries in Tripoli, Lybia and his grave is in the war cemetery of Tripoli.
I was glad to have made this discovery and there was, if my memory serves, me correct mention of John receiving some form of medal. To my knowledge no one in our family has been to Tripoli and honoured my uncle John. One day when all the recent conflict has ceased perhaps I can rectify this and place a token of some gesture at his marked grave.
God bless the uncle I never knew but can still honour and be proud to call my uncle. Sadly I own no photos of my uncle John.
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Maj. John Affleck "Sheriff" Livingstone BSM.. US Army 65th Infantry Division from Arlington, Virginia John Livingstone was the Divisional Provost Marshal in 65th Infantry Division.
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Pte. Neil Livingstone . British Army 1st Btn. Highland Light Infantry from Milngavie (d.21st Jan 1945)
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R Livingstone . British Army Loyal North Lancashire Regiment R Livingstone served with the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment British Army. I have his unissued dogtags, made in preparation for deployment to the Far East and would love to get them home to his family. I am happy to cover all costs. If you are a family member or can put me in touch with them please get in touch. Update: The Wartime Memories Project is no longer in contact with Dan , his website, facebook page and email have all ceased to function. But if you can add any details about the person listed, please use the add to record link below.
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RS Livingstone . British Army RS Livingstone served with the British Army. I have his unissued dogtags, made in preparation for deployment to the Far East and would love to get them home to his family. I am happy to cover all costs. If you are a family member or can put me in touch with them please get in touch. Update: The Wartime Memories Project is no longer in contact with Dan , his website, facebook page and email have all ceased to function. But if you can add any details about the person listed, please use the add to record link below.
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W Livingstone . British Army Lancashire Fusiliers W Livingstone served with the Lancashire Fusiliers British Army. I have his unissued dogtags, made in preparation for deployment to the Far East and would love to get them home to his family. I am happy to cover all costs. If you are a family member or can put me in touch with them please get in touch. Update: The Wartime Memories Project is no longer in contact with Dan , his website, facebook page and email have all ceased to function. But if you can add any details about the person listed, please use the add to record link below.
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Sgt. William Robert Livingstone . United States Air Army Force 334th Bomb Squadron 95th Bomb Group from Los Angeles Last Flight of the Worrybird, by Bill Livingstone.
At two o'clock that sunny afternoon of 2nd of November 1944, our "big-ass bird", as we lovingly called the World War II Boeing B-17 bomber, The Worrybird, limped along on only two of its four engines, barely holding 2,500 feet of altitude. An hour earlier, our tail gunner died from antiaircraft fire over the target, the Leuna oil refinery at Merseburg, Germany. Half an hour earlier, our radioman bailed out believing we were on our way down. With two engines knocked out by flak over the target, and without radio or use of gun turrets, we now we struggled back toward England.
Because of the danger of flying so low over the enemy lines in Holland and Belgium, our pilot, Willis Pozolo, decided to land at a small airstrip he spotted. With the electrical system shorted out, the engineer tried to crank the landing gear down manually while we circled the little airfield. But one landing gear jammed and the engineer told me later he, "Sweated blood trying to turn that damned crank."
As a substitute bombardier and nose gunner (commonly called the togglier) with the Worrybird's regular crew, this was my very first combat mission – the rest of the crew was on their 17th mission. But now my job was to drop the highly secret Norden bombsight out of the forward escape hatch because we weren't supposed to land in enemy territory with it intact. About the size of a casaba melon, I still remember the weight of the 30 pound bombsight cradled under my arm. I crawled to the escape hatch, turned the hatch handle, pushed the door open against the slip stream, dropped the bombsight through the opening, and watched it fall toward the earth where it would be destroyed upon impact. It became smaller and smaller as it fell until finally I could see it no longer.
I closed the hatch door and started to crawl back toward the front of the plane when, at the top of his voice, I heard the navigator shout over the roar of the engines, "Bill." I glanced up and he pointed back over my shoulder. I turned my head and saw our copilot, Bart MacNeill, who had just come down from the cockpit above. He crouched in front of the escape hatch door I'd just closed. With a look of intense concentration in his eyes, he reached for and pulled the red escape hatch jettison handle. This pulled the hinge pins and the door flew off, and he rolled head first out into thin air.
When I looked back at the navigator, who was in a position to see what was happening outside, he shouted, "Go Bill, go," and signaled me to follow the copilot on out. With no idea why the copilot bailed out, but without thinking about it or even having time to be scared, I crawled back to the open hatch, crouched in front of it, and I too rolled out into thin air. Then, as I fell, I realized what had happened.
With the whistling rush of wind in my ears, I fell head first. I saw my feet and our B-17 beyond them, perhaps less than 100 yards away. It nosed down at about a 45 degree angle, its right wing trailing flames that stretched back as far as the tail assembly. Beyond the plane I saw the belly of a Luftwaffe Focke-Wulf 190 fighter, obviously pulling up from what must have been at least a second attack on the Worrybird. And I saw the rest of the crew that had successfully completed seventeen combat missions over Germany, drop out of their beloved "big-ass bird" like peas out of a pod.
Well clear of the plane, I grabbed the rip chord, gave it a hard yank, and the parachute trailed out above me while I continued to fall head first. Then it quickly blossomed open with a loud pop and whipped me around with violent jerk. Suddenly everything went quiet while I drifted silently toward earth. I still recall how fresh the air smelled after the hours of the odor of hydraulic fluid in the confined nose section of The Worrybird.
My eyes riveted in an almost morbid fascination on that magnificent hulk of machinery called the "Flying Fortress," while it angle ever steeper toward the earth, its left wing lower than the right. Within 30 seconds from the time I bailed out it slammed into a hedge row about a quarter-mile away, exploded in a great ball of flame, and was instantly enveloped in a huge cloud of black smoke. My God, I thought, what a humiliating end to such a proud aircraft.
In little more than two minutes from the time I bailed out, I hit the ground hard with my feet, my butt, and then my head. I rolled over, got to my knees, collapsed the chute, stood up, and got out of the harness. I looked around and saw the crew strung out in the middle of a large plowed field, only about 50 yards apart. Then I heard my down-wind crew mate shout that the man beyond him, had broken his leg. I passed the word along and jogged over to him. It was our co-pilot with a grimace of pain on his face. Soon the remaining seven of us gathered around him.
While we tried to figure out what to do with the copilot, a grizzly little old farmer ran up to us and waving his arms and shouting at us in either German or Dutch. We couldn't understand what he said, but we understood his frantic gestures to get the hell out of there. He didn't want us caught on his farm where he might be suspected of aiding the enemy.
But we didn't know where we were -- Germany, Belgium, or Holland, so I walked up to the little farmer guy and held up my hands until he stopped jabbering. Then I pointed in a northerly direction and said, "England." Then I point toward the west and said, "France." Then I pointed straight down at the ground and asked, "What is this?" He didn't understand those last three words, but he certainly understood what I wanted to know, because he turned his shriveled face up to me and answered, "GEER-mony!" That was his way of saying "Deutschland" in English.
About then, someone said, "That's it. We've had it." I looked up and saw a cloud of dust rising from behind a small camouflage painted panel truck, headed in our direction, right across the plowed field.
The little truck bounced to a stop twenty feet from us and, I swear, at least a dozen German Wehrmacht soldiers spilled out the back door. They aimed their rifles at us and shouted, "Heben, heben!" Clearly, they wanted us to raise our hands. This we did, in complete surrender.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a dozen and a half civilians ran toward us to gawk at the "Yanki Terrafliegers" (Yankee terror flyers). But these people were more curious than hostile. As country folk, they lived far removed from the terrible destruction of war in the cities and were more curious than angry.
Finally, the soldiers put the co-pilot in the truck, instructed the rest of us to gather up our parachutes, and marched us down a country road. I remember the worst part of that march was constantly trying to keep my silk parachute and it’s shrouds from slipping out of my arms and trailing on the road where I'd trip on them. After about three miles we came to a little Wehrmacht garrison near Gottingen, Germany where we officially started our six-month tour as prisoners of war.
That night, miserably billeted in a cold damp stable, we talked about our fate and the last flight of The Worrybird.
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"Law" Llewellyn . Royal Canadian Air Force bomb aimer 419 Sqd.
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Sgt. Frederick Llewellyn . British Army 1st Btn. South Wales Borderers from St Ismaels I have been told that Frederick Llewellyn was one of the escapee's at the Battle of Tobruk and he evaded capture. He also has the Palestine Clasp and Northern Frontier Clasp from 1936-1939.
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Lt. Hubert Creighton Llewellyn . Royal Navy HMS Penelope from Pontyrpidd (d.18th Feb 1944) For Hubert Creighton Llewellyn
A time to remember.
I never knew my father.
No warrior, he.
But he, answered his nation’s call to arms.
To defend the country, he loved,
And protect its freedom, for Mum and me.
I never knew my father.
A Welshman from the valleys,
A doctor, who loved life.
HMS Penelope, his destination
The sea, his battlefield to be.
Reluctantly, he left Mum and me.
I never knew my father.
The war went on and on,
the land screamed with the pain of soldiers,
the sky turned red with the blood of airmen,
And the sea—
the sea, submerged the bodies of drowned sailors,
And raged in fury at the folly of men.
We feared for him, Mum and me.
I never knew my father.
And, it was not to be.
The knock, the telegram,
the cacophony of grief.
He had died fighting for us, his King and Country.
A black and white photograph of a laughing, happy man,
Life had changed forever, for Mum and me.
I never knew my father.
The fighting did stop,
Surrender did come,
The armistice was signed, and humanity wept with relief,
But, all this came too late for so many, many, more,
Than, just Mum and me.
I never knew my father,
The decades pass, peace and forgiveness prevail
Happiness returns and life goes on.
When, on a grey November day,
as a nation mourns its dead,
a laughing, smiling shimmering face, and time stops still.
An old black and white photograph has sprung to life,
Resurrection, perhaps?
Too late for Mum to see, but there, for me.
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Cpl. Iorwerth George Llewellyn . British Army Welsh Regiment from Bonymaen, Swansea Is anybody still alive who knew my father, Iorwerth Llewellyn? He is still alive, 85 years old now. He went to Burma at latter end of war and he often talks of the Irrawaddy River and Rangoon. He said he was involved in the liberation of POW camps.
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CSM. John Frederick Herbert Llewellyn . British Army 12th Btn. Hampshire Regiment from Winchester Jack Llewellyn served with the Hampshire Regiment from 13th of October 1924 until he was invalided out on 27th of February 1943. During his 18 years of service he did 3 home tours and further tours in Germany, India and Palestine.
He was awarded the GSM with Palestine clasp.
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MT Llewellyn . British Army South Wales Borderers MT Llewellyn served with the South Wales Borderers British Army. I have his unissued dogtags, made in preparation for deployment to the Far East and would love to get them home to his family. I am happy to cover all costs. If you are a family member or can put me in touch with them please get in touch. Update: The Wartime Memories Project is no longer in contact with Dan , his website, facebook page and email have all ceased to function. But if you can add any details about the person listed, please use the add to record link below.
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PO Thomas William Llewellyn . Royal Navy Thomas William Llewllyn was born in East Stonehouse, Devon on 14th May 1913. He either joined the Royal Navy, or he was seconded from the Merchant Navy at the start of the war. He was in the Merchant Navy at some stage before the war, hence the O.N. at the start of his RN number. He was demobbed in 1946 and died in 1996 in New Zealand.
We know he was in Scapa Flow in 1939 when HMS Royal Oak was sunk by a German U-boat, and he was in Portland in 1943-44, then in Gibraltar in 1945-46. I don't know any of the ships he was on, I think they may have been supply ships. He was also torpedoed and spent 17 days in a life boat and wash up somewhere on the coast of Ireland (probably in 1940-42). Does anyone remember him or have any information?
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Tommy Llewellyn . Home Guard Feltwell Btn.
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Sgt. John Llewelyn . Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserves 88 Squadron from Glanaman, Wales (d.21st July 1942) John Llewelyn graduated form St Davids College Lampeter Wales in 1939.
He joined RAF in Oct 1940 and killed on the 21st of August 1942 he was 24 yrs old. He trained as a pilot in Terrell Base 1 BTFS Dallas, America in July to December 1941. He was in 17 OTU then 88 Squadron then 19OTU. He was a sergeant pilot.
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LAC. Harold "'H'" Llowarch . Royal Air Force from Ellesmere Port I believe my father was based at Bardney and other stations during the War and was a member of the Ground Crew which serviced the engines on either Wellington or Lancaster bombers. His is not a remarkable story, just someone getting on with the job in hand.
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AG Lloyd . British Army AG Lloyd served with the British Army. I have his unissued dogtags, made in preparation for deployment to the Far East and would love to get them home to his family. I am happy to cover all costs. If you are a family member or can put me in touch with them please get in touch. Update: The Wartime Memories Project is no longer in contact with Dan , his website, facebook page and email have all ceased to function. But if you can add any details about the person listed, please use the add to record link below.
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Sub.Lt. Brian N. T. Lloyd . Royal Navy HMS Malaya My late uncle, Brian N.T.Lloyd, joined the Royal Navy prior to WW2 and served as a Midshipman and Sub Lieutenant on HMS Malaya. In 1941 he was in Fort St Angelo, Malta where he joined the submarine HMS Urge for a mission to Sciliy to pick up a secret agent. Alas, he never returned from that mission.
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D Lloyd . British Army Royal Artillery D Lloyd served with the Royal Artillery British Army. I have his unissued dogtags, made in preparation for deployment to the Far East and would love to get them home to his family. I am happy to cover all costs. If you are a family member or can put me in touch with them please get in touch. Update: The Wartime Memories Project is no longer in contact with Dan , his website, facebook page and email have all ceased to function. But if you can add any details about the person listed, please use the add to record link below.
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