TWO weeks ago in the Globe, under the headline: “Police hunt Hoylake burglar” you wrote about my distress at having my father’s medals stolen, and I would like to tell you the rest of the story.

My dad was a 17-year-old kid, up to his neck in mud, blood and rats in 1914-1918 War, and lived to see it end, for which he received many medals, of which I had three.

He was very proud of them, but would never tell us what he did in those years.

In the 1939-1945 War, he was what was called an ARP officer, and was out every night helping after bombing raids with injured, killed and buried men, women and children. He was on Lewis’s store roof when he got hit, and again he received other medals for that. He died aged 85.

I had kept three of his war medals. Now some scumbag has sneaked into my home and stolen them to sell for a few pounds. I have no idea where they are now.

In 1945, I went to buy what I thought was a nice engagement ring, but my wife-to-be had eyes on a better one, which was more than I could afford, so I had to borrow the fortune of £10 off her for the ring she wanted.

We were together for nearly 50 years until she died from cancer at Arrowe Park Hospital in 2003. The scum took that as well, so in a few minutes I lost my dad’s medals and my wife’s engagement ring.

If anyone knows someone who carries out these sort of robberies, and may know who the culprit is, could a friend - or better still a foe - just telephone a police station, with name and address of the person.

I could die a happy man if I just have five minutes alone with him.

The thief’s mum and dad, gran and grandad and friends must be proud of him.

Name and address supplied.