Come to think of it, I think my maternal grandfather served in WWII; but he died when I was five and didn’t really know him. He was a submariner, but I don’t know how long he served because he had health problems.
D-Day memoirs -my father (a Canadian pilot, from Montreal) was stationed in central England in the Air Force in 1943-45. When on leave, he and a couple of friends would often cycle to a nearby town and its pub. One of his letters to his wife-to-be, dated June 7, 1944 states:
“The night before last [i.e. June 5] at 11:30 pm, I was cycling lazily home [i.e. to his Air Force base] from town alone along the moonlit road. Over the horizon came a “V” of three planes with all their lights on. Seconds later, it was flanked by two more “V’s”, and they in turn by more and more until about 45 degrees of the horizon was full of them. As they slowly came overhead – spearheaded by the leading plane – they sky had a giant Christmas tree in it – all red, green, and gold. It was a stunning sight and I cycled slowly along – with the continuing roar in my ears, and not watching the road as much as I should have. They were transport planes, and I remember thinking that it was rather large scale manoeuvers. Next morning, it was announced paratroops had landed – they were in the planes.”
One of my uncles was in logistics for Dieppe but didn’t land.
Lucky man.