Hello, welcome one and all to another edition of Family Stories. The special edition of our podcast made all the better because the script is written by you, our listeners.

We're going to start with a lucky escape sent in by Richard Garnett. He writes. Hi guys, I love your podcast and it's accompanied me on many trips there and back for cancer treatment.

This is a story my father typed up and sent me before he died. I hope you can read it. He was in the Royal Navy and won a medal at the second battle of Narvik. At the end he encourages me to always believe in miracles which bearing in mind I was told six years ago. I only had nine to eighteen months to live. I absolutely do.

This is Richard's father's account which he entitled Do I Believe in Miracles. On the evening of May the 12th, 1940 the destroyer was serving him as on her way back to Scapperflow after taking part in the Norwegian campaign in the Narvik area.

My ship was alone and steaming at twenty knots. There was a rough following sea and we were rolling quite a bit. It was still daylight. An Norwegian coast lay 150 miles to the east and Scapper was 250 miles to the south. At 6pm I was relieved as officer of the watch on the bridge and hurriedly made my way along the upper deck towards the stern where my cabin was.

Just as I reached the after superstructure a wave broke onto the waist of the ship and lifted me over the guard rails into a cold Norwegian sea. I blew hard into my inflatable life belt and in a loud voice asked God to save me.

The sailor who was keeping watch on deck and who happened to be looking a stern at the time saw me go over the side. He at once telephoned the bridge and I was rescued after barely fifteen minutes in the sea. Yes, I do believe in miracles.

And this story was sent in by listener Colin Tate. Dear we have ways. I thoroughly enjoy your podcast and look forward to it every week. It's an absolute must listen. I've been reviewed since about episode six.

I've also been really enjoying your family stories. Some poignant, some funny and some utterly amazing and thought I'd tell you of my uncle Joseph Henderson or Josie as he was better known.

He grew up in Stevenston, North Asia on the banks of the 3rd of Clyde and at that time home to one of the world's largest munition factories at our dear.

This was run by the Swedish conglomerate Noble and it employed over 13,000 people with twice daily train services that delivered workers direct to the plant.

Though he worked at the munitions factory like almost everybody in Stevenston, his storm and job didn't save him from conscription.

Like many of his friends, he joined the 6th Battalion Royal Scots Fusiliers. He landed on Juno Beach on D-Day Plus 9. His battalion was part of the 44th Lolland Infantry Brigade, 15th Scottish Infantry Division.

11 days later, his battalion was blooded during Operation Epsom.

The battalion Dari showed 21 dead, 113 wounded and 9 missing and commented that they gave a good account of themselves as this was the first time they had been in combat.

After that, his battalion were kept in line without attacking but subject to shelling and mortaring and the inevitable attrition of men, 4 dead on 10 July, 6 dead on 11.

They moved to the tiny village of Gavruss on 16 July and prepared for Operation Greenline, a diversionary attack intended to draw enemy attention away from the much larger Goodwood battle.

They were heavily sheld during that time and one of the very few stories that Uncle Josie told was then.

They had sat huddled in deep slit trenches, the enemy shelling getting ever closer as if the German artillery had specifically zeroed in on his trench.

He said his sergeant shouted, don't go anywhere, you're safe here, sit it out.

But his mate from Stevenston, who was conscripted along with him, jumped out of the trench.

Uncle Josie told him not to be so daft and to get back in, but instead he ran.

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