Swanwicker supreme Roy Bratby passed away on 15 May 2005.

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From Barbara Wilson
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There is little doubt that had Roy not established a good relationship with a Chinese grocer in Singapore, his chances of surviving the war would have been nil.

After torture, which included the forcible removal of a fingernail from his left hand, he knew that much worse was to come and during one of these sessions, when left unguarded, he broke through a plate glass window, landing on the awning of a shop below, and managed to reach his Chinese friend. He was smuggled through a warren of alleys and, dressed as a coolie, made his way back to his unit.

It takes a man of great spirit and purpose to survive with his reason intact when he has to witness acts of appalling cruelty meted out to his friends and comrades, and to be the subject of them himself.

At Swanwick, when I first met him, he gave me part of his story to read and I went to a quiet corner and wept for him. It was the driving ambition of his life to write his story and several people, including me, tried to help him.

The annual week at Swanwick became his passion, and on the Tuesdays, which were 'free' days, he always came on the bus trips into Derbyshire and despite the constant pain from an ulcerated leg, would climb the hills without complaint.

In Roy's company you were aware of a quiet man with a soft voice which belied the enormous strength of will he possessed and the compassion for other Far East survivors for whose welfare he constantly fought.

One of his proudest moments was when he was made a Life Member at Swanwick a couple of years ago. How sad that he will now be missing from that happy throng.

Barbara Wilson

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from Brendan Nolan
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The last time I spoke to Roy, while he was still hale and hearty, was on the day the passing of the Garden House was honoured with a gathering of Swanickers in situ.

While others were waxing eloquent and melancholic Roy was smiling away to himself.

I asked what was funny and he recalled his last stint as a floor steward in the Garden House.

His attention was called, by a worried Swanwicker, to a woman’s calls emanating from a bedroom on a warm afternoon in August.

She was in distress, he was told.

But when he knocked on the door and called out his identity and standing, the lady in question, who was apparently entertaining a guest, told him in no uncertain terms to go away.

“She was enjoying herself, and didn’t want me around,” laughed Roy.

For his part, Roy never stopped enjoying himself, no matter what life visited upon him.

He is missed

Brendan Nolan

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Recent years saw the passing of some Swanwick stalwarts.

Here we note their passing. here