Inspired by Colonel Tom Moore and the unifying spirit of the recent VE celebrations, Steve Russell tells the remarkable story of Tyneside centenarian, Edward Somme Ramshaw (aka Ted), whose bravery and fortitude played an extraordinary role in the WWII Allied victory.
As many good stories are, this one was inspired by a visit to the pub! Aged 101 at the time, my mate Ted cheerfully supped his way through numerous pints, cackled his crazy laugh, and chatted up the ladies with some seriously smooth lines! Simply witnessing this incredible human being’s undiminished lust for life, was a joy to behold. However, knowing of the unbelievable events those 101 years had seen, convinced me that one day, I’d simply have to tell his story.
I visited him a week later, and over a few cups of tea and lots of laughter, we talked of his adventures. He showed me treasures from his box of memories, most collected during the brutal war which has come to define his life. These artefacts included a thank-you letter from a Hollywood starlet he’d chauffeured around Cairo, and a dagger bearing the ominous Nazi eagle, and the inscription “Alles Für Deutschland” on the blade. The latter, he told me matter-of-factly, was “taken from Gerry when I killed him”. His outdated vernacular brought a wry smile to my face, but I guess it’s easy to be judgemental when you haven’t lived through the horror of war.
I left his humble little Byker home that day determined to tell the world about the unassuming hero living among us. Unfortunately, the clutter of life got in the way, and two years have gone by since. I guess having the time to finally do the things you’ve been postponing, is one of the unexpected bonuses of a pandemic.
Ted’s life began in 1916 in Lumley Village in County Durham, in the grim shadow of The Great War. He never knew his father, whose life was lost in the horror of The Somme. In a tragic echo of current events, his mother succumbed to the Spanish Flu pandemic in 1919, and Ted was orphaned at just three years old.
The early 20th century was no time to be an orphan, and Ted’s childhood was not a happy one. He was raised in ghastly children’s homes across the North East, where punishments were usually physical. His daughter, Mary, recalls how one particularly vindictive matron had it in for her dad: “When people would come in looking for children to adopt, she would put a sign around dad’s neck which read ‘naughty boy’, to make sure no-one would want to take him”.
Unsurprisingly, Ted escaped this hellish existence as soon as he could, and having lied about his age, joined the Royal Signals at the age of fifteen. He was sent to Catterick for training with the cavalry, and immediately fell in love with army life. Having no family to visit, Ted spent his leave on the barracks, caring for his beloved horses, and he soon became an accomplished horseman.
His first overseas post was Egypt in the mid-1930s, but it wasn’t long before his tough upbringing landed him in hot water. A bar fight earned him a spell in military prison, but the army eventually found a way to channel his toughness to their advantage. After the outbreak of WWII, Ted was recruited into the Long Range Desert Group; an elite unit formed in 1940 by Major Ralph Bagnold and General Archibald Wavell. Their remit was to penetrate Italian lines in the Egyptian desert, and Ted spent prolonged periods in enemy territory on reconnaissance and intelligence missions. On one occasion he sustained serious injuries when a jeep he was travelling in was blown up. In typical bullish fashion, he shrugged that off and went on to fight alongside the Eighth Army in Operation Crusader, the Allied bid to relieve the besieged city of Tobruk in 1941.
This battle raged for some time, and Ted was still fighting when the front line moved on to El Alamein, where he fought under the legendary Lieutenant-General Montgomery.
After his desert service, it was on to the Persian Gulf, where he fought alongside Russian forces, disrupting Nazi oil plundering operations. Via further spells in Cairo and Italy, Ted eventually returned to British soil after seven years away, and was sent on to Troon in Scotland for invasion training. It was then down to Portsmouth and the perilous journey across to Normandy for the D Day landings. Ted landed on Sword Beach, and incredibly, he would go on to fight through France, Belgium and all the way into Germany. Fittingly, Ted was in Berlin when the war finally ended, facing down the dwindling forces of the Nazi empire to the very last day. Ted is not a man known for hyperbole, and his daughter Mary recalls an episode which typifies his legendary deadpan attitude towards his own endeavours:
“I once asked dad how he felt at the end of ‘The Longest Day’ in Normandy. His answer was ‘hungry’!”
Ted’s regiment was among those to liberate Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in April 1945, something which he has never been able to talk about. After so many years of combat, one can only imagine the toll which that terrible sight must have taken on those brave souls who finally brought an end to Hitler’s horrifying tyranny.
With the war finally over, Ted remained in the army, serving with the Allied Control Council in Germany. He married his sweetheart, Doris in 1947, and the couple would go on to have three children, Mary, John and Stephen, who was sadly killed in a car accident in 1979. They enjoyed a long and happy marriage, until Doris passed away in 2003.
Ted’s post-army career included spells as an ambulance driver, a long-distance lorry driver and he was even involved in the construction of the Tyne Tunnel. However, it was with a paint brush where this remarkable man would once again confound and delight. Ted had trained as a painter and decorator in his youth, but when he took up oil painting as a hobby in his late 60s, it was soon evident that his talents were better suited to canvases than walls. He began knocking out mini-masterpieces at a prodigious rate, with many depicting historical Naval vessels on the high seas. Having seen many of them first hand, I can attest to them being worthy of any fine art gallery you care to mention! Offering further evidence that he is in fact a bionic man, Ted suffered a heart attack at 87, which far from knocking him back, inspired him to become a fitness freak, and he continued to pound the treadmills into his late 90s!
Ted’s proudest moment came when he reached 100. No, not a telegram from the Queen (although he was grateful to receive one of those), but a Legion of Honour Medal from the French government. This is the highest French military honour, and was bestowed upon Ted for his role in the D Day landings. Ted had previously received a number of WWII medals, including the Africa Star, the Italy Star and the France and Germany Star.
Considering his background, it’s perhaps unsurprising that his civvy life was occasionally ‘spirited’. Son John, a retired Northumbria Police Inspector, and now proprietor of Clennell HallHotel in Northumberland, describes this side of Ted’s character: “Growing up like he did, dad had to be a fighter, and alongside his best pal Benny Sharkey [a legendary Tyneside boxer, who won 127 of an incredible 196 fights] he was prize fighting around Newcastle from the age of 14, to make ends meet. Unfortunately, old habits die hard and he was still getting into the odd scrape in his 80s!”
Feisty one is Ted, although that was usually a prerequisite of entry into the somewhat lively taverns of Shields Road, especially so in his heyday! Ted’s wild days are just about behind him now, and these days he enjoys spending time with his ever growing family (which now includes five grandchildren, five great grandchildren and six step great grandchildren) as well as the odd cheeky pint when he can. Sure, he can be cantankerous on occasion, but I think he’s probably earned that right. He’s currently isolating with his daughter Mary at her home in Leeds, and hasn’t been feeling too well, so I’m sure I speak for the whole nation when I say get well soon Ted, you are a hero to us all.
P.S. Hopefully see you for a pint soon my friend!
