Elisabeth Gallon ‘My father, Harry Gallon, along with thousands of others during WWII War, was separated from his wife and children to fight for his King and Country. Little more than a toddler at the time, I have no clear recollection of my father’s leave-taking.All I knew was that my tall, handsome, loving daddy had gone away leaving a gaping hole in the lives of his loved ones which no one else could fill. I knew little about him at the time. I might never have known him at all had he not, in his wisdom, kept a record of his thoughts and feelings during the long years of our separation whilst he served in India. It was a country he learned to love during his RAF days, thousands of miles from home. ‘Years later, reading my father’s diaries I realised the depth and quality of his intellect; his dexterity with words. He possessed a mastery over words which came to him as naturally as breathing, allied to a kind of spiritual grace, an awareness of beauty and a power of self-expression.