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One was a codebreaker who arguably was instrumental in winning the war against Hitler for Britain while the other, on the face of it, did nothing.

But for author Gethin Russell-Jones both his parents, whose romance blossomed during World War Two, exhibited great courage and integrity during that time.

His mother Mair Russell-Jones, who had studied music and German at Cardiff University, had been headhunted for a place in the Bletchley Park codebreaking team.

She was a 21-year-old from Pontycymer near Bridgend when she was propelled into the heart of the secret war against Adolf Hitler following her invitation to work at codebreaking centre Station X.

The man with whom she fell in love, John Russell-Jones, who was later to become a minister, was a Conscientious Objector – a CO or ‘conchie’ as they were usually called – who was opposed to fighting in the war or being any part of it.

Related: Welsh codebreaker Mair Russell-Jones recognised Alan Turing's genius at an early age at Bletchley Park

Defying expectation

His was a brave decision to defy the common expectation at the time that all young men should fight for their country.

Gethin, who has previously written an account of the part his mother played in the war in his book My Secret Life in Hut Six, had always been left with questions about how his father felt about her involvement.

“He was of course very proud of her but as a couple they spoke very little about their very different experiences,” he said.

Unlike other young boys who questioned their fathers about what they did in the war – with expectation of stories of brave attacks on enemy lines – author Gethin did not ask.

More: Bletchley Park uncovered: The secret life of the Welsh World War II codebreaker

He knew what his father had done and, growing up, would have summed his father’s contribution to the war effort with one word: “Nothing.”

His latest book – Conchie: What My Father Didn’t Do During the War – is the story of a son seeking to understand his father and coming to realise that behind the veneer is a man he never really knew.

Uncritical pride

“As a young boy I knew my dad had made this decision during the war and I felt a kind of pride in it,” said Gethin.

“I remember thinking ‘My dad’s different’. The older I got, throughout secondary school and beyond, that changed from an uncritical pride to a questioning of whether he had been cowardly and whether I would have done the same thing.”

But whatever his feelings about pacifism in World War Two Gethin became more aware of his father’s integrity – that he was prepared to suffer for an unpopular and unfashionable belief .

“He was a man who faced ignominy, insults, and opposition from the state to his family and yet still stood by his convictions,” said Gethin.

But this was a man who was not alone.

Conscription for duty

As Gethin explains in his book conscription was abolished in 1919 but reintroduced in May 1939 before the outbreak of war with Germany.

The Military Training Act required all men aged 20 and 21 to be called up for military duty although this was superseded in September when the National Service (Armed Forces) Act came into force.

All men aged between 18 and 40 were required to sign up for duty and, after extensive loss of life, this age limit was extended to 51 at the end of 1941.

From 1941 onwards, and for the first time in the history of the British Isles, single women aged between 20 and 30 were also compelled to perform non-combatant duties.

“All these legislative measures recognised the rights of conscientious objectors (COs) and prescribed the means by which their appeals could be heard and judged.

“In the First World War there were 16,000 registered conchies and there were 61,000 in World War Two,” said Gethin.

“It is not unfair to say that as a group they were generally reviled and misunderstood.

More: Welsh Government refuses to block the Army from visiting schools amid criticism of 'recruitment' visits

Facing derision

“Many of the COs in both wars objected on the basis of religious conviction but others said no for political and moral reasons.”

The 21-year-old young John Russell-Jones was prepared to face scorn derision.

“My father had a great sense of personal integrity and a deep Christian faith, which was a clincher for him.

“He could not believe in killing anyone else.

“He was also a very complicated man – that was something that came out for me in the book.

“He could be quite insular and isolated.

“Whereas a lot of conscientious objectors and pacifists joined movements and protested he never really did that.

“And the after the war, and marriage and having children, it’s not something he really talked about but it was something I wanted to understand.

Related: Were conscientious objectors in the First World War heroes?

Parents chastised

“Why didn’t he say more about it? He was a minister and had a very public kind of role.”

John Russell-Jones found out after the war that his parents had been chastised for his objections – something which troubled him greatly.

“He found out after the war that his parents had taken a great deal of criticism from neighbours and people in the community. That is something he felt really bad about.

“I remember him saying that had he known that, had he realised the amount of flak they would take, it may have changed his mind.”

While at Cardiff University a public tribunal to assess his objections had led to press reports that were to fuel the animosity towards his family in John Russell-Jones’ home community in Gorseinon.

“Inevitably it was reported on by the press.

“It ended up being reported in the Swansea area – that is when people realised that my grandparents’ son wasn’t at war.

“It was only a few years later that he realised how much pain his decision had caused for his family.”

Speaking of how his own parents avoided the subject of war during his childhood Gethin remarked on how respectful they were of each other despite their polarised roles in the war effort.

Mutual support and respect

“Throughout their lives they would not be drawn on the subject. My mum was very proud of my father, just as he was of her, of who he was and what he amounted to.

“I think there was a kind of respect between them. My father could certainly see that my mother was aiding the war effort as it was.

“Because she was slightly removed from the sound of shells and guns she maybe saw the war differently.

“In her latter years, after my dad died, it was something that was all-consuming for her and something she wanted to talk about in a way she hadn’t when he was alive.

“I discuss that in the book – it was almost as if they had agreed to disagree.

“I never remember them rowing about it or even discussing it – perhaps they did privately.”

Summing up his quest to understand his father’s motives as a conchie Gethin said he believed his father’s objection to war was essentially “a very personal expression of faith”.

He writes: “Of this I am clear: my father was no coward. Walking against the tide of militarism took a different kind of courage and for him it was an integral part of his Christian discipleship.

“The way of Christ was the way of the cross and this was the one he had to carry.”

Conchie: What My Father Didn’t Do During the War is published by Lion Books and priced £9.99