Harold was my maternal grandfather (Pop). My mother was his eldest daughter (of four), Doris Rene Saxon. We lived just 4 houses away when I was growing up, Pop's brother Percy lived across the road from him. I spent much time with Nana and Pop as a sickly kid, left with him to fill in the days. He taught me card games and how to appreciate a good western book. He was a great man, fun to be with and loved a few whiskies and a laugh with the extended family. So many fond memories of him. He never once spoke of his time in the war. Apparently when his youngest daughter (Pat) once asked about his time in the war his words were "It was bloody grim". That was it, end of conversation. A truly great gent and it was my honor to have been his grandson.

Harold was my Great Grandfather He was a tough Bushman before the war & cooked for 26 men in the bush at the age of 13. He had the biggest bullock team in Northland & owned his own timber-mill at 21. He then volunteered for the army at the outbreak of war. He was about to lead his squad over the top at the start of an attack at Gallipoli when a shell landed in their trench killing all but him & nearly severing his leg. He was buried alive for 10 hours & only accidentally rescued when he was discovered as they were re-digging the trench. He was shipped out to hospital in Egypt and then sent to England to recuperate where he met our Great-Nan, Ethyl Langford, while he was recovering. She worked at the London War Office. They married & came back to NZ after the war where he discovered his business partner had gambled away the Timber-Mill in his absence & they had lost everything. He then go