George Bruce was the uncle I never met. He was the much elder brother of my Father, and all I ever really knew about him until a few years back was that he had died in WWII whilst flying (he was a pilot) in his Wellington bomber.
In recent years, my father had shown me a picture of George as a young man in RAF uniform, standing with his mother, with my father as a young child at their feet.
All that we really knew about his death was that he had been killed whilst flying his Lancaster - somewhere over the UK. Rumour had it it happened on a training flight, rather than active service, but other details were sketchy.