Mistaken Identity-twice

In 1942 my father, Albert Frank Coster, was called up to go into the Navy.
He was 42 and postman/sorter at King Edward Building in London. He was also a Fire Warden stationed on the roof of that building, so one can imagine what his nights were like. He was very surprised to receive his calling-up papers for he was considerably older than most of the men being called-up at that time. He had been mistaken for Gilbert Coster, who was 29 and had already been refused by the RAF. The other coincidence was that my father was a postman/sorter at King Edward Building in London, and Gilbert was a postman at Eastern District Office, also in London.
My father realised that an error had occurred, but the naval officer did not, and at first he refused to read my father's papers, his discharge from the Army in WW1, his birth certificate, his identity card et al. After some heated discussion the officer agreed that my father was who he said he was, but, nonetheless, he was in the Navy, regardless!
The second case of his mistaken identity was set during the few days before D-day. I understand that movement of any of the forces was limited. But on June 4th a doodlebug landed on the Coster home in Bethnal Green and the whole family killed - the Navy in their wisdom, contacted my father through his Senior Officer and arrangements were set in motion to expedite his departure from the Orkneys.

( I should add here, that my father was the Captain's personal steward, and had been for nearly two years).

However, travel was limited to senior ranks only. The Captain issued him with a pass anyway and some other documents. He was flown to Kirkwall and thence to Aberdeen or Prestwick (I am not sure which it was). However, there was no seat available on the first flight. My father produced the documents his Captain had given him with the result that a Colonel was turned off the plane and my father duly climbed aboard. When he looked more closely at the pass he saw that he was actually a member of Naval Intelligence
and on a vital mission.
He was flown directly to London, where a cab awaited him and brought him to Bethnal Green. It was here that he discovered that it was his brother and sister and their families that had been killed, not us. We were alive and well in Mile End.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.