KEEPING alive an act of remembrance in fond memory of a British Army soldier who died in the second world war has become an important tradition for one family from Buckland Monachorum.

Carol Jessop, who works in the advertising department of the Times, recently came across a letter written by her father Peter's first cousin, Jim Richardson, who at just 18 years of age, was killed at the second Battle of Arnhem in April 1945.

The battle was part of the Canadian First Army's liberation of the Netherlands and was led by the British 49th (West Riding) Division, supported by armour of the 5th Canadian (Armoured) Division, Royal Air Force air strikes and boats of the Royal Navy.

It was in this conflict, just weeks before the end of the war in Europe. that Pte Jim Robinson from Plymouth was killed.

Before the war Jim, was an apprentice at Devonport Dockyard, where his father Jock was a sergeant in the MoD Police. After enlisting, Jim became a member of the British Parachute Regiment.

In Holland, Jim and his comrades took shelter by an old house, where they were defending themselves from a German attack. Jim was killed in a mortar attack.

He is buried, along with his fallen comrades, at Arnhem, where his grave has been visited by Carol's relatives.

Carol said: Every year, on Remembrance Day, I put Jim's picture, which is in a frame, on our mantelpiece and put a poppy on it in his honour. By doing this I like to think it is nice to keep his memory alive because he had such a short life, like so many of his generation.'

The letter to his Aunt Enid and Uncle Les (Carol's grandparents) who went to live in Polgooth, St Austell, after they were bombed out of their Plymouth home, was written in pencil by Jim in Holland. It reads:

Dear Aunt Enid and Uncle Les and family,

Well, it has been a long time since I saw you and a lot longer since I last wrote. But as you may guess I've been busy and also that I'm no hand at writing letters. not being, of course, like my dashing brother William. (His brother Bill, who was in the RAF, flew on bombers).

So first I must apologise for not writing but it is not altogether my fault as mother, in every letter, tells me you are going to write and I have been waiting patiently for one from you. So at last finding myself with a few hours to spare I shall endeavour to start pencil pushing.

First I hope you and all the boys and Mavis are in the best of health, not, of course, forgetting Uncle Les. Mum tells me you are still trying to get a house back in Plymouth (Jim's aunt and uncle's house had been destroyed during the Plymouth Blitz), it's very unfortunate you cannot, seeing now there is no more danger. But I expect you will get one soon now. Myself, though, I would rather live in Polgooth than in Plymouth (I wish I was there now).

I rather expect the boys had a high time during Xmas (sic) back home with all the snow. I cannot say the same though, for me there was a bit too much, although if I remember correctly, I did take part in a few snowball fights in a small Belgium town, in which I was forced to beat a hurried retreat from a crowd of small boys, whose aim was correct and straight and forcibly thrown.

As I write this letter the postman has just given me a letter from Dad (his father Jock). He tells me Duncan (Jim's youngest brother) has just gone down to your place with Uncle Les for his Easter holidays.

Strange as it may seem I was up the front for Easter and it passed me by without me knowing it. I was rather disappointed or I would have tried to dream of Easter eggs — the only eggs I did get were dried ones.

Well I reckon this is all the gen I have for the time. So cheerio. All the best.

Your affectionate loving nephew

Jim

xxxxx

xxxxx

xxxxx

This was the last letter he wrote before he died on April 13, 1945. His commanding officer, Major D Collins, wrote from the front line to his parents on April 22.

Major Collins reassured them that their son was killed instantly in the mortar attack and was buried the next day in the presence of his comrades.

He wrote: 'He (Jim) joined us in January and soon made friends in his platoon. He was young but certainly did a fully experienced soldier's job so that his platoon commander knew he could always rely on him.

'I am very sorry that he should be killed, particularly at such a time of the war, and before he was 20 years old.'

There is an intriguing prequel to this story, said Carol. Jim's Uncle Les, a chief petty officer in the Royal Navy, was allowed leave when his ship was docked in New Brighton, Merseyside. His family, from Plymouth, came to visit him and rented a house there.

After the air-raid sirens sounded the family went into a shelter in the gardens but the house was bombed and flattened. Les came back from his ship to find the street in rubble and was stopped by an Air Raid Warden and told he was not allowed to enter the area. But he insisted and a good job he did because he found his family buried under the rubble — and they were all still alive.

After that the family moved to Polgooth, and Jim spent some of his leave with his Aunt Enid and Uncle Les and his cousins. There he had an idyllic time, exploring the small village and cycling around the countryside. He even found a sweetheart whom he intended to marry once he returned.

However, before he left for war he told Enid and Les that 'it would be a long time before they see him again'.