Time to honour the heartbroken women left behind

Her eldest son Roy Carne had just turned 22 when in 1943 as a navigator in the Australian 466 squadron he was sent to drop mines on Brest Harbour and never returned.But even when his belongings packed neatly in his suitcase were shipped back to Gympie, my great-grandmother refused to believe his body lay at the bottom of the Atlantic.“He’s suffered amnesia from the crash and will find his way home,” she would say.She kept Roy’s suitcase by her bed, even until her final days in an aged care…



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