In 1944 a British Army officer's car - part of an Allied convoy - was ambushed by the Germans.

In the grenade and machine gun attack, the officer was killed.

"The last words I heard him say were 'What is happening?" said Jack, who was hit by a bullet.

But only fate saved him that day. Minutes earlier the two men had switched seats because Jack was tired of driving.

"He just sat in the front of the car," said Jack. "His face was blown away and he was shot in the chest."

Two farmers dragged the young soldier from the burning wreckage.

Officers recovered the dead man's identification disc before pushing the car over an embankment with the body still inside.

"If your name is on the bullet then you are going to get it," said Jack. "That is what they used to say anyway."

Jack was born on Christmas Day in 1915.

He was just two when his father was killed in the First World War, and now no longer even remembers his father's name.

"I was never interested and I can't relate to him at all," he said.

"I never really gave it a thought, but I think he was supposed to have been Scottish."

Jack adopted his mother's maiden name of Hurford and was cared for by various members of his large family while she earned a living as a cook.

With so many cousins he was never short of a friend to play with.

"They had plenty of kids, but maybe they didn't have anything else to do," he said.

Memories of his early childhood growing up in London are clouded.

It was only after he moved in with one of his uncles that life began to settle down.

With seven children of their own, his uncle Sid and his wife had their work cut out.

But still they managed to make 12-year-old Jack feel at home.

"That was about the only time I felt like one of the family," he said.

His school years were also a bit of a blur - mainly because of his poor eyesight.

"The teachers realised there was something wrong when I couldn't even see the blackboard," he said.

The experience of school life had little impact on Jack.

All he remembers is that he was pleased when it was over.

"I never enjoyed school and was glad when I had to leave," he said.

At 14 he got a job in a shoe shop, earning 10 bob a week.

His daily routine involved sweeping the floor and being polite to customers.

He stayed a year before moving in with an aunt in Tottenham where he began working for his relative's business, lugging bags of coal.

"I had a sore back by the time I had finished lugging them up stairs and down shutes," he said.

He later switched to building car wheels, but at 21 saw a job advertised for a supermarket porter.

But it was no cushy number.

"The customers were treated with great respect, but I wasn't even allowed in the shop," he said.

Instead, he stood outside the High Street store, washed windows and carted goods to and from the storeroom.

"They never had any queues in those days, but I think it was the war that started that," he said.

Jack's job lasted just a few weeks before he took a friend's advice and quit.

"I did not like their attitude," he said. "They used to treat you as a nobody because you were a porter.

"You had to take you cap off and stand to attention just to ask for a few extra bob.

"More often than not you got it, but it was humiliating and they felt like they had done you a favour."

But the reality did not stop the 21-year-old chasing jobs.

He began working as a delivery driver for a large family-run shop.

"We sold anything and everything," said Jack.

The new job meant he could put into practice skills he had learned at 18 while working as a handyman for a busy doctor.

The doctor had promised to teach him to drive, but never did.

Instead, Jack was given an instruction book, the keys to the doctor's car and told to 'get on with it'.

"He had a long drive up to the house where I practised but the thing was I never got into top gear because there was not enough room."

His mum bought him his first car for £25 in 1936.

"You couldn't expect much for £25 but as long as it went I was happy," he said.

After a stint delivering for a London butcher, he volunteered for the Army in September 1939.

During 'square-bashing' at Margate, his fitness was stretched to the limits.

"It was all a bit strange to me and a bit arduous," he said.

"The chaps training you were tough, regular soldiers and made you feel like walking out, but once you were in you couldn't escape.

"You had to abide by what they dished out, but we weren't ready for any of it."

His friend Jimmy was sent home, but Jack quickly made new pals in the Royal Army Service Corps.

Throughout the war his job involved delivering petrol and ammunition to the Allied forces.

It was on one such delivery that his car was ambushed and his officer was killed.

When he returned to Britain, the man's wife asked him what had happened?

"I told her he would not have felt anything because it all happened so suddenly," he said.

By the time he returned from the battlefields of Europe, he was a married man with a son.

He had met Joyce while on leave in 1941.

She had been dating his friend Ted, but fell in love with Jack at first sight.

Her instincts were right.

Last month, the couple celebrated their diamond wedding.

During their marriage, Jack says it is Joyce who has been the steadying influence on his life

Jack left the Army in 1945 after being kitted out in civilian clothes, given £75 and told to get on with his life.

"It was gratuity pay, but we were not happy with it," he said.

He found a job with British Telecom.

"I was just after money because we had a baby to feed and that was all that mattered," he said.

But it was the start of a 35-year career that eventually brought him to Knutsford in 1955.

When their son, Peter, developed asthma they decided it was a good idea to swap life in the city for the countryside.

Joyce's sister lived with her husband on the Tatton estate.

Jack and Joyce found a house in Mobberley Road where they lived for eight years as their children, Peter, Raymond and Carol, grew up.

In 1979 Jack retired - a year early - and relaxed into life in Knutsford.

Helping with their grandchildren and great grandchildren has been a full-time job, but the town has been the perfect place to do it.

"We lived in London for quite a while and it was all hustle and bustle, but we wanted a quiet retirement," he said.

The only thing that has broken the silence at their home in Norbury Close is the sound of jets flying overhead.

But it does not worry the couple.

"We are all right as long as they don't start dropping their orange peelings out of the windows," said Jack with a smile.