As a child growing up I use to tell friends, “… my dad kicks bombs for a living.” when asked the inevitable stupid question, ‘what does your dad do for a living.’ One because I was never sure at first what it was my dad did actually do and had overheard him talking to someone, one time, and say, “I kick bombs…” and giggling to myself though, oh, that’s cool. Never once, at whatever tender age I was at the time, realising what kicking bombs for a living actually meant or, entailed. And two, because I loved the look on the other kids faces when I told them that.
It wasn’t till much later it all made sense when one of my older brothers explained to me dad had worked in Bomb Disposal during the latter part of the war. Later, I asked my dad what exactly it was he did now. By this point I was about 8 years old and we were living in Singapore, and I vaguely knew he worked putting bombs on planes. Though why they needed to carry bombs in the first place was still a little beyond me.
My dad had laughed for a good five minute when I told him what I told my friends. Yes, it was true that at one point he had kicked a single bomb, a dud he told me, when being pranked in his early days in the Air Force. It turns out this was a phrase they guys used to pull the ladies in with when dating just after the war. Not that my dad mentioned this at the time, this was again, something I learnt from my mother much later as an adult teenager about to join the military myself.
Still, I have fond memories of grinning when I told other kids that my dad kicked bombs for a living and seeing their faces light up in glee and then, fear, seconds before one or two might call me a liar. But those kids were mostly civvy kids who didn’t know any better. Kids in the Air Force all knew their fathers could be doing some sort of scary job involving weapons and explosives. And, for me, as a kid, it seems wild and exciting, as I grew up, I began to understand the humour people like my father used when talking about some of the work they did, because it was far from exciting or glamorous. It was down right dangerous.
My dad had the physical and metal scars to prove it. For one, he had a three inch gash along his scalp where a missile fell on him from the undercarriage of an airplane during load-up.
He never did tell me if that was when he had his first heart attack. But, I often wonder.
NaBloMoPo: 18/30
[grey_box]This post is part of NaBloPoMo where I write 30 blog posts in November. Thank you for reading and leaving me a comment, which is encouragement for me to finish this challenge. To follow along you can subscribe using the form provided in the sidebar or use RSS.[/grey_box]
I cannot imagine what those men and women endured; and now we watch news reports of people all over the world going through equally tragic and unthinkable situations.
It’s hard to comprehend from my comfortable, heated, safe home. The world can be such a scary place and too often we forget the sacrifices to many make to keep peace. And, also, how despite best efforts, evil still seems to prevail far too often…
But I love the job description 🙂
It reminds me of the time I told someone I was related to Braveheart – as in the actual William Wallace. Everyone thought that meant I was related to Mel Gibson. When they learned the truth, they weren’t nearly as impressed – haha.
Agreed, when I think about where my dad started, and then, where he ended up at, in a bomb disposal unit just after the war. It was all munitions and frightening situations. I’m surprised it took so long for him to have his first heart attack.
I can’t imagine standing in front of a bomb wearing your work uniform, with no protection, listening to 1000 pound bombs to see if they were live, and then, either trying to diffuse them and or, blow them up.
Now, they have suits, equipment, robots even to help.
Oh, how funny that they thought you were related to Mel Gibson. But how interesting you are related to William Wallace. My mother is related to Mary, Queen of Scots. Here’s to our shared Scottish blood.
What a terrifying job. I cannot imagine. I like the way you described it to the other kids though.
Supposedly I am party Scottish too, but it’s not for sure. The Stuarts I think. Is that Mary? I’m trying to remember the family name that came forward, maybe Upton.
It took me till my teens to understand what it meant, and then, when he had his first heart attack, the consequences of such a stressful job.
And yes, Mary was a Stuart by way of her father, James VI. Her mother Mary of Guise, French. Looks like we can stat our own Scottish blogging branch here! ☺️
Your dad wins the “what does your did do for a living” contest for sure. But I can only imagine what level of stress that was to deal with every day for your parents. My dad was an emergency services first responder and I know that drove my mom crazy just as that was.
He sure did. But like your own dad, he was just one of many doing a stressful and dangerous job. First responders have to deal with no less dangerous situations all the time. And our mothers? Yeah, just as stressful for them too.
Well, it doesn’t get much cooler than that! It’s so interesting how different your family and situation were from mine- my parents were both teachers (no bomb kicking there!) and we lived in the same town my whole life.
I guess the kids of military families do have quite a different life. Their parents all doing something a little different to the norm. It’s just how things are. My best friend when I got to the Brit version of high school had lived her whole life in one place and her parents farmers. Which, for me, was endlessly fascinating. Dealing with all those animals.
I just want to say that I really love the way you write. It’s such a personable but vivid writing style and I feel like I was right there when you were talking to your dad!
I would definitely had told all my friends my dad kicked bombs, too! But what a frightening job. And such an important one. We need those “bomb kickers” for sure.
Awww, thank you for saying that. And it means a lot to me coming from your good self. You write some wonderful newsy posts about your life. To be honest, I’m having fun doing this NaBloPoMo challenge, reminiscing and taking a quiet trip down memory lane.
Oh, I know. It’s scary what they did do and still have to do. My dad had pictures of him and his mates stood next to huge 1000 lb bombs. They really were heroes.
Well, that is a job I didn’t think about… ever. But I guess that happens.
I love that you said that to other kids. it sounds almost magical – for kids. And then when getting older it’s so scary, rights.
There are so many jobs like this which are really dangerous and yes, very scary too that we never really thing about. Anyone who is an emergency responder for a start. Such hard difficult jobs.
And yes, it was great fun at the time to shock the other kids. All without really fully understanding what it actually meant for my dad, till I got older.
Uff, kinda glad you didn’t understand what it meant at the time… it just sounded cool, but man, your dad DID have a dangerous job.
Yeah, so was I. I think I would have been stressed out, like my mum, if I had understood what it meant. His whole career was weapons, no wonder he was so happy to retire.