Month: August 2025

With the anniversary of VJ Day – the true end of the Second World War – passing earlier this month, here’s a timely reminder of the suffering endured by POWs held in the Far East. Japan’s surrender was signed on 2 September 1945, yet for many families the wait for news dragged on. Some did not see their loved ones again until 1947, while others lived in hope only to learn their relatives had perished in brutal POW labour camps.

Here we see two poignant artefacts. On the right, the official Japanese prisoner of war identity tag. On the left, a handmade version created by the prisoner himself, bearing his name and the same POW number, 446.

What makes it remarkable is the reverse. Scratched into the back of the Japanese tag is a stick figure with a halo – a cheeky nod to the 1960s TV series The Saint, though here carved decades earlier. It’s humour scratched into metal in the darkest of times and a tribute to one man’s determination to hang on to his identity when all else was taken away.

That man was RAF Flight Sergeant John James Sartin, held in Java. He survived captivity and went on to serve 25 years in the Royal Air Force as a fitter. His official service record makes no mention of his time as a prisoner, save for one line in the “marks or scars” section: “Scars L. Buttock. Back L. Hand.”

There cannot be many stamps that smell of chocolate, but this Swiss commemorative from 2001 is one. A playful nod to the nation’s most famous export, and a reminder that philately can be a treat for all the senses.

Collectors today tend to store their finds in neat stock books made of acid-free paper, or in clear protective mounts that keep each stamp safe and visible. But there was a time when the fun began with tearing a stamp from an envelope, floating it in warm water, and pressing it flat in an old book. Then came the satisfying moment of licking a hinge and pasting it down, page by page, in an album that felt like your own museum.

Those early albums were rarely neat for long. New discoveries were squeezed in out of sequence, gaps were shuffled about, and the more enthusiastic the collector, the more haphazard the display became. Looking back, that imperfect order is part of the charm.

Grades matter today, from hinged and unhinged to mint or used, gum or no gum. At Charing Cross one of our dealers once met a specialist stamp cleaner who passed on this tip: if you have hinged stamps, leave them be. Keep as much original gum as possible, and if you really must free them, soak gently in warm water. Too hot and you risk washing away not just the hinge but the colour and the cancellation too.

In the Second World War, official service badges were produced differently for men and women, even the prestigious King’s Badge that was awarded to discharged service personnel.

Here are two silver-numbered Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS) “On War Service” badges. The men’s version features a crescent fitting designed to slot neatly into a lapel buttonhole, while the women’s version uses a pin-and-hook fastening for wear on clothing without lapels. This was not only a matter of comfort but also reflected the way uniforms and civilian clothing were tailored at the time.

The same male and female distinction applied to many other wartime insignia, with the Air Raid Precautions (ARP) badge being one of the most common examples. In the set shown here, the left-hand ARP badge has had the crown’s void painted red, a personal touch not part of the original design, which was normally plain in silver or nickel for both men’s and women’s versions.

Each badge was individually numbered, enabling it to be traced back to the wearer. This was partly for security, ensuring that only authorised personnel could access restricted areas, but it also means that today collectors can sometimes link a badge to a specific individual’s wartime service. In the case of the AFS, these badges were often cherished keepsakes long after the war, as the service played a crucial role in battling the devastating fires of the Blitz.

The South Africa campaign began in 1877 and is forever marked by the shocking defeat at Isandlwana, followed closely by the dramatic defence of Rorke’s Drift.

That second battle saw just 139 men hold off around 3,000 Zulu warriors, leading to an astonishing 11 Victoria Crosses being awarded.

Because of this, medals linked to those actions carry serious weight. One awarded to a casualty or escapee from Isandlwana can fetch upwards of £10,000. A Rorke’s Drift participant? Expect to start at £35,000.

By contrast, the no-clasp version of the South Africa Medal seems positively affordable, typically selling for around £650 to £700.

A nice detail on this example is the original buckle fitting. In the early days, these medals were pinned on with little consistency in placement. The proper two-prong buckle, like the one shown here, now sells alone for £40 to £50 if you can find one.