When my dear old dad Shemuel Benyamin Greenberg (above right) passed on he wished to remain in his beloved place, Clyne Gardens, Swansea. (here) 

His wish was granted one day in May when my elder brother David and I spread his ashes. I hope that he died a happy man and remains so.

He was a big brave man and was quite handy right up until the end of his 86 years.

He was a chemist who joined the British army at the outbreak of war. He concealed his faith and joined as Samuel John Green, from Leeds. He served in India and the Far East, and had a fantastic knowledge of those parts.

He had a particular love for India, and was there at Bombay when eleven Allied merchant ships were lost as a result of the two horrendous explosions aboard Fort Stikine at Bombay, on April 14th, 1944. (here)

By then he was a Colour Seargeant in the Royal Artillery, having just returned from Wales after marrying my mother. There, he was in charge of a platoon of airgunners over Margam Steelworks where coincidentally my son works now as an engineer.

I was two when he left the army in 1948, and he filled my head with exciting stories about hero’s and villains. He used to describe how brave the Sikh and Hindu soldiers were, and that there was another war going on in India at the time with rebels from the North. My imagination used to run wild with excitement.

I never understood what he meant by that Rebel bit that until a few years ago.

“You see the plans for this Islamification are not new” he once told me".

“I sometimes wonder if Ghandi was altogether right in what he achieved", he continued,

"Maybe we should have stayed on just a bit longer”.

I too often wonder what really happened at Bombay that fateful day in 1944, where my dad lost so many of his brothers in arms.

Just what or who started the chain of events that blew a whole dockland town to pieces, and why?