MY DAD WAS A SMUGGLER

AS DESCRIBEDIN A PRE V IOU SB S HART IC LE ENTITLED'MY DAD WAS A SPEEDFREAK',MY FATHER LOVED LARGE, POWERFUL MOTORCYCLESAND FASTCARSIN HISYOUTH BUT,AS ISOFTENTHE CASEWITH BIKERSIN MY EXPERIENCEH, IS LIFEHAD MANY OTHER FASCINATING FACETS S, O I HOPE YOU' LL FORGIVE A PROUDSON FORWISHING TO COMMEMORATEHIM AGAIN IN THIS FOLLOWUP ARTICLE.

INamongst a package of old papers that I found after the death of my mum in 2011 was this report of my father being convicted of 'Smuggling' or, to be more precise, 'the import of goods on which no duty had been paid, in contravention of Section 186 of the Customs Consolidation Act of 1876'. He served in the Merchant Navy throughout WW2, and this included serving on a ship that was captured, and subsequently sunk, by the notorious German Panzerschiff (also known as pocket battleship by the Royal Navy) the Admiral Graf Spee. together with the rest of shipmates, and the crews of several other merchantmen captured by the Admiral Graf Spee, were later transferred to its supply ship the Altmark to be transported back to Germany to be used as a propaganda coup about the might and superiority of the German Kriegsmarine but, as luck would have it, The Altmark sought refuge in neutral Norwegian waters, with an escort of two Norwegian warships, and she was intercepted and forced to run aground by the cruiser HMSArethusa and the destroyer HMSCossack. At this point Royal Navy personnel swarmed aboard her and freed 299 captive British merchant seamen. (Being in neutral waters, this caused quite a furore at the time, and to this day it is referred to as The Altmark Incident). Apparently, the Norwegians were quite upset at the breach of their neutrality (perhaps they should've picked a side instead of sitting on the gjerdet) and, apparently, Adolph Hitler was so miffed he ate half an Axminster rug and wrote a stern letter to Der Sturmer. Sometime later the Admiral Graf Spee was famously scuttled by its captain, Hans Langsdorff, due to some excellent subterfuge by British military intelligence after the epic Battle of the River Plate, and this, too, apparently did nothing to improve Hitler's mood! Later in the war my dad sailed in the Arctic convoys to Murmansk. On one of these convoys he survived his ship being sunk by German U-boats . Despite not being able to swim a stroke, he survived the torpedoes, the freezing Arctic Ocean, the slick of toxic marine diesel, and pre-NHS healthcare, and eight months later was back on the Arctic convoys again. Now, back to the plot... As his ship docked in Liverpool on August 3rd, 1944, he packed his kitbag with a few treats he'd collected for family and friends and, no doubt whistling a merry tune quite badly (he had a lovely tenor singing voice, but couldn't whistle to save his life), set off across the docks, only to be intercepted by customs officers, who'd probably never seen any action other than harassing a few dockers or banging an occasional dockside prostitute, ('occasional' prostitutes being denoted by their use of bunting and other seasonal decorations). After having his kitbag searched, he was arrested and charged with the heinous crime of smuggling! So what dastardly contraband was my father guilty of smuggling into Britain? A ton of opium? Ten barrels of brandy? A torpedo or two? Here's what they found, and what the court went on to fine him an astounding £100 for (which now equates to about £2,000): five tins of milk, two tins of sweets, 11bof peanuts, a tin of fruit juice, a tin of butter, a tin of jam, a packet of candy, a tin of coffee, 31bof sugar, a field ration, a packet of Powder Puffs, two packets of razor blades, and a (part) packet of pencils. All this '...with the intent to defraud His Majesty of the duties due thereon' Fortunately he avoided the two-year prison sentence they could have given him on behalf of The King. Sadly he died way back in 1988, and none of us knew anything about this shady episode in his life until after my mother's death in 2011 when I found the court documents in amongst the plethora of dusty old documents that she had accrued over her 84 years of life. Reading of my dad's run-in with HM Customs Excise, it reminded me of an incident many years ago when I returned home from a spell of working abroad, and my mum and dad were in convulsions of laughter as I walked into the house. I had to wait quite a while before Icould even ask what was so funny. Mydad said, through barely held composure : "Eddie (my brother) has just been round to introduce us to his fiancee ." "She's a lovely girl," my mum interjected, "and she's from Liverpool." Still none the wiser I said: "I'd have thought you'd be happy to have another Scouser in the family, Dad?" (He was originally from Wavertree). "Oh, Ido, Ido," mydad replied, "but Ican't believe Eddie's getting hitched to a customs officer off the Liverpool docks!" At which point they both set off into apoplectic laughter once again. It was to be more than 25 years later that I unearthed these documents, and finally understood the depth of their hilarity. be fair to Liz,who's now been married to my brother Eddie for many years, she's an absolute diamond, and my mum and dad grew very quickly to love her like a cherished daughter , and on finding this document, just a week after my mum's death, it was Liz that I had to show it to first! My dad was a convicted smuggler ... and so much more. My hero then, as he remains to this day!