Have you diced with death? Achieved something unique? Made the news in your life? Let us know by sending a precis to web.editor@saga.co.uk.

Read one gripping example from the magazine: a true wartime story of two men's survival after ditching their plane in the sea here.

Two events make me think of dicing with death, although i risked my life by being a motorcyclist since the age of 16.

Thr first was as an Apprentice Fitter and Turner on the famous Aircraft Carrier "Eagle" sister boat to the TV featured "Ark Royal". A Sailor had decide to dash down an iron ladder in "Navy Fashion"- Forward facing and running down the rungs hanging on to the handrails. He slippped and found himself falling towards open machinery, not protected by Deckplates due to a Dockyard Refit. His fall would have been 30+ feet, but i managed to grab him 10 ft below as i was ascending the lower ladder. He was so embarrased that he thanked me profusely and disappeared from the compartment. I never saw him again. His stupidity probably made him feel very bad.

The second event was in Estartit, Costa Brava, where Underwater Currents sent my Wife, Daughter, Son and Myself sweeping out to sea. My Wife's reaction was to take my daughter to shore as soon as possible, bu that left my son and myself with an airbed and poor swimming skills, at risk. My son was not very strong and the two of us had to use our feet to drive the airbed to shore. At one stage we knew we were drifting further out to sea, but i managed to muster all the words of encourgement i could find to imspire him not to give up. Without his positive response we would not have survived. I love my son, deeply, but as a maile it is hard to say. My father could not tell me until my mother died.

It was in the Canal Zone of Egypt that I diced with death.One Sunday in early 1953 I felt unwell with stomach pains and decided that I would report sick on Monday.Monday came and after handing in all of my kit,including bedding and mattress I joined the sick parade.I had a mile to walk to the Signals camp where the M.O. was stationed.He gave me a cursory examination and told me that there was nothing wrong with me.On being asked if I could be excused duty for the day,he replied that hard work would make me feel better.On arrival back at camp,I lay down on my bed,after of course retrieving my kit from the stores.Some chap reported me for this and before long the officer in charge came to order me back to work.I must have looked ill,because he allowed me to stay where I was and instructed a team of men to keep an eye on me.For the rest of the day I lay there feeling worse with every passing hour.The next day I waited untill morning parade was over before reporting special sick,which excuses the handing in of kit and bedding.On seeing me the doctor refused my request to be sent to hospital,so I thumbed a lift to the garrison of Moascre where I reported to the first hospital I saw which was the matternity hospital for married families.I must have looked bad because they examined me and called for an emergency ambulance to take me as fast as possible to Fayid hospital,25 miles away.The last thing that I remembered was being shaved in readiness for an emergency operation.Six weeks later I came round to the sound of an officer,who I guessed was the surgeon,telling me that I should have been dead.I replied that I hadn't heard the order.It must have been serious because they offered to fly my mother and father over to see me.They declined the offer because they didn't fancy flying in an ex York bomber.It was to be three months before I could resume my driving duties and they gave me a posting as a padres driver,living with him and his wife and children.Some good came of it in the end.
anthony18296

I married a Canadian (2nd marriage) and went to live with him in Northern Ontario. He used to build 2-seater ski-planes for a hobby, which could land on water. Being ignorant, they looked to me as if he used balsa wood! This was the way to visit his remote cabin, the only dwelling on the shores of Lake Dennie.
One day he took me for my first trip there, which took two and a half hours over uninhabited pine forests. On the way he told me of the time he had to ditch the plane he was piloting, because of technical failure, landing in a forested area. He wasn't found for a week, having to survive without shelter and off the land. Think Bear Grylls or Ray Mears but no mobile phones then....Fortunately I'd taken a spare pair of knickers!
When we eventually arrived at the cabin, it had been ransacked by a brown bear - claw marks in every tin of food, bedding ruined and bear tracks everywhere, know what I mean?

The marriage didn't last.

Sorry about being so long in replying, but it has been a long time since I visited this site.The answer to your question is peritonitis brought on by a burst appendix.
anthony18296