Dawn service
This is a story of someone's Great-Grandpa
that we had to recreate. We go clues from the poem. I put myself in the shows the writer
My mum told me about my great-Grandpa was one of the flyers in the war. Grandpa didn't have a laugh he had a wheeze like croke, when he rarely found something funny he would give out an exasperated wheeze that sounded like wheels and pulleys turning in his chest,you had to pat him firmly on his brown jumper that he loved to where so that he wouldn't choke, he had little bits of hair like small white feathers sticking out of the top of his head.
In the war my Grandpa loved to read letters that he got from home. he would wait eagerly for the mail cart to arrive
When grandpa was nineteen he had a little note log book and that he would write in with a soft pencil. In his book he wrote that he a really nervous about flying.
“UM” he hated the word “UM”once he made her mom's brother write it out and then bury it in the garden.
Why I never knew how My Grandfather felt about the war.
I never meet my Grandpa because he died before I was even born.