This week Rocky and I are enjoying a rather unplanned personal retreat in the village of Liñero, near Villaviciosa. When we returned to Gijon following our Spain Hiking & Yoga Retreat we found out our elevator was going to be repaired for ten days and would be inoperable. Since we live on the tenth floor, we decided it would be more fun to explore another part of Spain than to cart our dog Wilma, and our groceries up and down ten flights of stairs every day.

Coincidentally, we were introduced to a woman named Donna about a month ago, who had short-term rental properties in the area and welcomed dogs. I gave her a call and she told me that one of her rentals that was about forty minutes outside of Gijon would be available when we needed it. Since buses and trains do not stop anywhere near Liñero, we took a taxi. The taxi ride was cheaper than taking a train to Madrid, which had been our first idea. Anyway, we welcomed the possbility of a quiet week in the campo (countryside) instead of the kind of frenetic week we might have had in a big city like Madrid .

When we arrived at the complex, called La Valdesa, we were speechless. The property which had been nothing but a cow barn when Donna’s father purchased it just over twenty years ago, is gorgeous. Situated on a hillside, both the family’s home and the two attached rental apartments have expansive views of the river, Ria de Villaviciosa, far below. Lemon, apple and orange trees dot the terraced gardens.

Our apartment has a private, red-tiled terrace with baskets of flowers hanging from a gate that separates it from the family’s gorgeous outdoor eating and lounging area. The cushioned patio furniture begged us to sit and stare, mesmerized by the view of the water far below. Rocky, who had been skeptical that I could find a place on short notice that would be suitable, was forced to admit he was WRONG. This peaceful, bucolic place is just what we needed to recuperate from the fun, but busy, retreat season we had just completed.

The morning after we arrived, Donna offered to take us to the nearest town to buy groceries since we don’t have a car. Once in town, she told us she usually starts with a cup of coffee before shopping. That sounded wonderful to us. We found a sunny table outside of a coffee shop and chatted for a few minutes to get to know each other better.

Donna is the type of person that moments after you meet her, you feel you’ve known her for years. In fact as we walked through town towards the coffee shop, she waved and smiled at  just about everyone we passed. If my Spanish translation was correct, she yelled across the street to the mayor of the little town, grinning the whole time, and telling him he was more handsome now that he was married. She hugged a couple of shop owners who popped out to see her and promised they would get together soon. Turns out she lives in an apartment above a lingerie shop in this town of Villaviciosa and because she is so friendly, and outgoing, she knows everyone.

Over our coffee and croissants, we learned that Donna was currently staying with her 99 year-old English-born Grandma Iris, who she calls Nan, in the family home next to our rental. Nan lives with Donna’s parents and an adorable 14 year-old Portuguese Water dog, Bobby. Donna’s dad who is Spanish, from Gijon,  and her mom, Nan’s daughter, are in their early 70s, having started their family very young.  They are currently on vacation in Germany so Donna is helping out while they are away.

When Donna was growing up, her parents owned a large language school in the UK. Her facility with languages speaks to the bi-cultural household she grew up in although she said they usually spoke English in their home. When we first met, I wasn’t sure if Donna was Spanish or English because she switched back and forth so effortlessly. Apparently she speaks German as well, a talented linguist.

Donna’s eyes lit up when she talked about her Nan. I could tell they had forged a very special relationship. Donna also has a way of drawing you in with her stories. We hadn’t even finished our coffee when Rocky and I found ourselves getting choked up over one of the most touching love stories we had ever heard: the story of Nan’s wartime romance.

That night, every time I woke up, I found myself thinking of Nan’s story. I wondered if Nan would be willing to share it with people outside of her family? After all, she is 99. Maybe it was time to tell the world…or at least my blog followers.

Thursday, with Donna’s help, I sat down with Nan (Iris Linnitt) and interviewed her. I am honored to share a story she has kept close to her heart for most of her life. Nan is sharp-witted and beautiful and smiles as soon as I see her. Her hair is brown and stylish and she is wearing a soft, gray sweater with white lettering that says Smile on the front of it (as if anyone meeting her would need a reminder to smile!)

She is petite and walks easily without assistance. No one would guess she is almost 100 years old. She wears a gold dog tag around her neck in memory of her son Michael, who died unexpectedley of a heart attack at age 52. Losing Michael was one of the great losses of her life. Donna shares, “Michael was Nan’s right eye, they were so close.”  On Nan’s left hand is a wide gold wedding band and diamond engagement ring from her husband Ron, that she often spins unconsciously on her slim ring finger when she is thinking or talking.

Nan has done yoga for over 40 years and still does her own practice every morning. She and her daughter Carol started taking yoga in Paignton, England and even introduced Donna to it when she was just 11 years old. When they moved to Spain, Nan continued practicing on her own. She also spends hours on her iPad everyday watching educational YouTube videos, many about WWII, and checking up on her friends on Facebook.

To prepare for this meeting, I emailed some questions to Donna for Nan to answer. Nan struggles to hear well and this allowed me to interview her without having to shout. Her voice is clear and her ability to tell a good story is not unlike her grand daughter, Donna’s. I am immediately entranced by her every word and gesture.

“I first met Ron, my husband, when I was in Sheffield in the Woman’s Royal Airforce. I joined up when the war broke out in 1939. I was 18 years old.  I worked as a balloon repairer and also as an entertainer. I used to teach the other girls some dancing and how to do some tap dance routines and we put on these shows every Saturday night in Sheffield. And that’s where I met Ron. We made dresses out of balloon fabric. We had big sewing machines to work on the balloons so the wing commander let us make dresses when we should have been working.”

She giggles, effortlessly remembering something that happened more than 80 years ago.  “The wing commander was all for entertainment so he let us get on with it. One night we were at this dance and I met Ron. We started going out together. He was very handsome… like Tyrone Power.  He was a good dancer also. I took him home to meet my parents and he took me home to meet his dad. Unfortunately, his mom had died two years before I got there.

I remember my wing commander invited Ron to my 21st birthday. Ron had been drinking. We were all sitting down in this big living room. He showed me up something terrible. He had too much to drink and stood up and said, ‘You’re all sitting here like you’re in a holiday camp while we are being shot down one by one, losing mates, being taken prisoner of war.’  My face was red. I had to apologize to all my mates and the wing commander. I was really embarrassed by him. He ruined my 21st birthday.

And then he went on a course to be an air gunner. He went up to an RAF station in Snaith (southwest of Yorkshire, England) and we would write letters to each other. In 1942, when I was still 21, we got married. Too young.  We’d been writing to each other because he was flying by then. All of our letters were censored so you couldn’t tell what was really going through. My mom was very ill at the time. She was dying of cancer and he would always write, ‘I hope Mum’s getting better’ and things like that.

Then just a year later, in 1943, Ron was shot down near Dusseldorf and taken prisoner of war. There was a man working in Germany named Lord Ho Ho (She could be referring to Lord Haw Haw, a nickname applied to William Joyce who broadcast Nazi propaganda to the UK from Germany during WWII). He gave out the names of the soldiers they captured after they bailed from the airplanes and were now prisoners of war. The telephonist working in my station received the information over the wire and told me how Ron had been captured.

He had jumped with a parachute into a field because he had just bombed Dusseldorf. His helmet was reflective so when dawn broke there were German farmers all around him with pitch forks. They had him carted off on a bus to be interrogated. The Germans told him, ‘It’s alright. we know all about you. We know all about your station. We know what you’ve done.’  All of this with Dusseldorf burning in the background.”

After Ron got shot down, Nan kept working for the Womens Royal Airforce repairing balloons. She knew Ron had been captured but she did not know where he was being held or what was happening to him. The war raged on with no word from her husband. It was a very difficult time for both of them.

Her friends tried to help. She reminisced about what she did to try to keep her mind off of Ron being held captive, “My friends and I, for a night out, because now my husband was a prisoner of war, we would go to the Midland Hotel in Birmingham, UK. Before that, there was a guy I used to work with in Bonneville. He went to Canada and he sent me a parcel and it was full of the newest Helena Rubinstein’s cosmetics. So we all used to meet at the hotel and go up to the powder room and make ourselves up and then go and have a drink in the hotel. For a little diversion.

There were these guys…these Americans. They were all Captains and we got to know them. They invited us to the mansion in Coventry where they were staying. Every Saturday night, they would pick us all up at the hotel either in a bus or in the jeeps and take us to Coventry. The tables were groaning with food that we hadn’t seen for five years and there was a lovely dance hall. Heaven-sent during a bleak time with no word from Ron, and with no idea if he was still alive.

So, eventually, I coupled up with Roy. He was a gentleman through and through.  He had studied medicine at the University of Iowa.  When the war broke out, he went into the Forces and was sent to Coventry.  Roy and I got to know each other very well. I used to take him home to see my family and he used to take parcels to my Dad of cigarettes and food. My mom had died by then.

So every Saturday night we had something to look forward to. I went bike riding with Roy all around the grounds in Coventry. We played tennis together and took long walks. Always a lovely Saturday night. So of course the romance got better and better and eventually…a bit serious.

What did I love about him? He was a real gentleman, a real handsome gentleman. He was six foot three and ten years older than me. A Captain. We got very friendly and fell very much in love. We decided to go on a holiday to Bournemouth together for a week. (Bournemouth is a coastal resort town on the south coast of England.) Which was very, very nice. I know he loved me very much.

At the end of the war I felt dreadful. Very mixed feelings. I finally heard that Ron was alive and he was coming home. And of course, Roy was leaving, being sent back to the U.S. now that the war was over.

Ron had a tough time as a prisoner of war. He could’ve been shot on the 100K march towards the American base at the end of the war because our own planes were tracing them thinking they were Germans. I was a nervous wreck.

I was very, very emotional when Roy and I had to leave each other… when Roy left for America. He left me his address and told me to contact him if I changed my mind about my commitment to Ron.

Then life started over with Ron. But I held on to the photograph of Roy. I could not contact him… I knew I had to stand by my husband, Ron. But I held onto Roy’s address and I kept thinking about him.

It was a bit of a struggle when Ron came home because he had been cooped up for 2 or 3 years as a prisoner of war. He was very shy to go out anywhere. Very jealous of me. If we went out for a drink, I had to hold his hand and lead him to a table and if men stared at us, he’d say, ‘Do you know him?’ And I’d say, No! We had many, many a row.

So anyway, we had a doctor who lived down the street who was a psychologist. I told him, when we were in bed at night, Ron kept jumping out of bed because he thought he was in the airplane. The doctor met with him and asked Ron to share everything he could remember about that mission from start to finish. After that session, he found some peace.” Turning to Donna, she added,  ‘Yes, your grandad found some peace, at the end.'”

Ron and Iris had three children and created a full life together. In the mid-50s they owned a pub and lived in an apartment over it. Donna shared that Nan was always working, sometimes multiple jobs at one time to make ends meet. Donna’s mom used to take her to see Nan and they would wonder where they were going to visit her…which job was she working? As a result of her hard work though, she’s been able to collect a pension for over 35 years.

Donna remembers her Grandpa Ron as a man of integrity and honesty; a hard worker who was also accident prone as a result of PTSD and chronic vertigo following his years as a prisoner of war. Ron died of emphysema in 2008.

It wasn’t until two years ago, however, that Iris decided to look for Roy. She had held onto his photograph and his address for 74 years. With the help of her grand daughter, her son-in-law,  and Google, they located Roy’s family. Ron had been a prominent doctor in Maryland after the war and had married and had three children, one daughter named Carol who had died very young. Interestingly, Nan’s youngest daughter, Donna’s mom was also named Carol.

The search also uncovered Roy’s obituary. He had died at age 90 in 2009, just one year after Ron. There would be no long-hoped-for reunion for Nan and Roy.

Nan was hesitant to reach out since she didn’t expect his family to know anything about her. Her son-in-law persisted though. When he reached Ron’s daughter Barbara, they were surprised to hear that she already knew the story of Iris and Roy’s romance.

“I spoke to his eldest daughter Barbara, two years ago and she said he always carried the photograph of me in a secret compartment of his wallet… till the day he died. After his wife died, he spoke to his daughter about our romance. It was so nice to think that he spoke about me when he was dying. He was in a home for some time at the end. She even said he told her how he wished he could’ve married me. That meant everything to me.” Staring off wistfully, she repeated…”That meant everything to me.”

“I do dream about Roy quite often. Not long ago I dreamt that I was in the camp and a tap came on the door and I opened it. There was Roy. I fled into his arms and he said to me, ‘You’re divorced and I lost a wife, so now we can get married.’ ”

After several long minutes, Nan lifted her head to look at me and said, “I didn’t want to wake up from that dream.”

Roy’s family, his son Edward, daughter Barbara and their children, are making plans to visit her soon.  Nan seems delighted at the prospect of meeting them, such an important part of her beloved Roy.

“Where’s all the time gone?,” Nan says with a big smile.  “I think I’ve had a good life. I’ve traveled. I’ve done so much.” Donna added, “And you’ve always lived with your family, Nan. That’s been wonderful, right?”

“Yes, yes…that’s been wonderful,” she says with a big smile.

Nan has experienced the loss of both of her sons and her husband and she never had the chance to reconnect with the love of her life, her American, Roy. Her smile is contagious though and so is her enthusasm for life. She also seems as peaceful as her surroundings here in La Valdesa. Maybe being 99 years old has given her a unique perspective, one in which she chooses to focus on the love she had and not what she lost. Thank you for inspiring us all with your story of love and resilience, Nan!

Notes from the Author:

In Spanish, there is a phrase, “es mi ojito derecho.” In English: It’s my right eye, or my favorite. Donna used the phrase in English to mean Michael was Nan’s favorite or that they were very close.

In interviewing Iris, I realized how little I knew about the details of WWII in Europe. If you want to read more about the 100K march that she refers to, here is one source. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_March_(1945)

I also was fascinated by Nan’s mention of working on balloons as part of her job with the WRF.  I didn’t know how important the balloons were until I did more research. https://airandspace.si.edu/stories/editorial/protecting-beaches-balloons-d-day-and-320th-barrage-balloon-battalion

My research into Lord Ho Ho kept bringing me back to William Joyce. I am not certain this is who Nan was referring to but he seems to have been one of the “Fake News” reporters of WWII. It is possible he gloated about the British who were captured by the Germans after bailing out of their planes but this is only a guess on my part. https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/the-rise-and-fall-of-lord-haw-haw-during-the-second-world-war

I hope, like I did, that you will enjoy this story as one woman’s account of love and loss and resilience rather than an exact history of WWII.