Malcom Angus, Keith Killby’s nephew, writes:

My uncle held strong opinions and he held them against a set of values with which most of us agree, perhaps state, but unlike Keith do not always make visible. We can be reluctant to make our real feelings known in situations where perhaps we should. Here is an example. Keith, in one of the many conversations we had about his life, told me how, as a young man visiting an uncle with his father, he was given a present which he gladly accepted.

However, during the afternoon tea the uncle revealed strong anti-Semitic views. Keith left the room and his father found him in the garden. Keith said he could not remain in the house. For the sake of not upsetting the family dynamics his father persuaded him to return. But the visit ended soon afterwards and the present was left behind. Keith never met that uncle again.

I am of course very sad that Keith has died, and there is now a real emptiness in my life that cannot be filled. But I have been honoured to have had him as my uncle, to have been allowed to share his life, both historic and recent.

Keith wore size 12 shoes, which caused grief for him in the army, while on the run and later in civilian life as he had to have them made especially for him. He did indeed leave huge shoes to fill.

Antonio Millozzi:

I had known Keith Killby since the 1960s. He used to come to Italy twice a year to visit Primo and Lea Barchetta in Contrada Barchetta at Monte San Martino. They had rescued him during the war. At the time, I was working for the local authority and, as we are a small community, I often used to come across Keith.
The contadini, although poorly educated and unable to speak foreign languages, received with open arms the Allied prisoners who had escaped from the Nazifascisti guarding Servigliano camp after 8th September 1943. They relieved their hunger and hid them in grottos, lofts and cowsheds; their children had the job of taking them provisions. These grandparents of ours, essentially contadini, risked their own lives by disobeying the law.
In 1989, Keith, a former Servigliano prisoner hiding at nearby Monte San Martino, asked me for help in setting up a charity in the UK in order to give English-language study bursaries to young Italians aged 18 to 25. So far, we have granted 600 bursaries.
These bursaries enable the young people to immerse themselves in the Anglo-Saxon world and understand other people’s way of life – a necessary precondition for laying the foundations of a united Europe. Born out of the horrors of war, this cultural and humanitarian initiative encourages the young to learn their own history, so as not to forget.

Keith made such a big contribution, through transmitting messages of this nature and through his own actions. For example, working with him in 1988, and thanks to money raised locally, we made it possible for a young man from Monte San Martino to undergo a kidney transplant at a London hospital.

Keith always showed great consideration for young Italians and many were guests at his house while studying or working in London.
Resolute and far-sighted, Keith’s vision was formed as soon as the end of the war foresaw cultural exchanges between nations. This vision led to the foundation of the Trust.

As the Trust’s representative, I look after contacts with the schools and handle applications for bursaries.
I am deeply grateful to Keith and the former prisoners and their families who support the Trust, for having made me –a war orphan and thus indirectly a civil victim of strife – understand that I should contribute to this excellent cause testifying to the horrors of war.

Keith’s 102 years of life were characterised by honesty and generosity, which were duly acknowledged by both the Italian and British states.

Letitia Blake, secretary of the Monte San Martino Trust, recalls her 14 years of close friendship with Keith Killby:

“Meglio tardi che mai” (better late than never) were generally the first words that greeted me on arrival at Keith’s flat. In the winter time I would hold out my hand which he would take, exclaiming sympathetically: “Ooh, you ARE cold!” This summer we had a different routine: I would settle down on a chair in front of him and get out my fan, waving it energetically in front of his face. He would close his eyes in pleasure at the cool breeze and then open them to declare: “Lady Windermere’s Fan!” Followed by “mind my nose!”
My relationship with Keith began in 2004 – I went for lunch with the widow of one of my father’s coescaper friends and she had a copy of the newsletter on her coffee table. I took an email address and found out that my office was two roads away from Keith’s flat. After our first meeting I found myself in a short space of time a trustee and then secretary of the Trust. Keith and I quickly became working partners, doing a lot of day-to-day business at his sitting-room table: creating the newsletter, reading
through all the application forms to select candidates for the bursaries, writing cheques to the schools, and discussing the Annual Lunch. I experienced his encyclopaedic knowledge of PoWs who had been on the run in Italy and enjoyed learning from him about this fascinating period of history which my father (born the same year as Keith) had also lived through and survived. He introduced me to his favourite books and I consumed them all – from To War with Whittaker (his favourite) to Iris Origo’s War in Val d’Orcia and Rome ‘44 by Raleigh Trevelyan, which I read without stopping through one
entire night.

In 2006 he asked me (though not in a tone that left me a lot of choice!) to go to Italy and accompany Antonio Millozzi, the Trust’s representative in Italy, on a tour of schools in several regions to talk to the students and teachers about the Trust and the bursaries. He had done this himself for many years but, just at the point I met him, he had decided (despite the best persuasive efforts of his many Italian friends in Monte San Martino) to stop travelling to Italy where he had been twice a year for decades.

Although still in good health he was walking with a stick and typically did not want to find himself being a burden on anyone in case he fell. As I travelled in Italy, coming across many people he knew, I found myself getting a picture of an incredibly energetic, indomitable person who left a strong impression on all he met and who commanded great respect, admiration and affection.

Over the years, as our friendship grew, I learned gradually about his other interests and hobbies, besides Italy and the Trust (which were always in first position). He told me that for many decades he went to the theatre or the opera every Friday and Saturday night, and he had a large collection of theatre programmes going right back to the 1940s. The one he was most proud of listed a certain Margaret Smith in the cast list – at the very beginning of her career before she decided Maggie sounded better!

In later years we would sometimes pull out the programmes and go through them with him reminiscing about John Gielgud, Noel Coward, Edith Evans and Lawrence Olivier. He also loved art and in his seventies would take the Italian students on trips to the National Gallery, gleefully pointing out to them all the paintings we had purloined from Italy at some point in the past! His favourite TV programme by far was The Antiques Road Show and I used to sometimes get worried calls from friends or family on Sunday evenings asking me if he was alright because the phone was permanently engaged and they couldn’t get through. I was able to reassure them that as soon as the Antiques Roadshow was over he would be putting the phone back on the hook.

One of the stories which most reflected his stature and strength of personality was an encounter he had with Winston Churchill at a conference Keith was organising in the 1950s focused on maintaining peace in Europe. As he told it, Churchill arrived late and was about to walk onto the stage from behind, not realising that a high-ranking French speaker was out there still making his speech. Keith saw what was happening, leapt up and pushed Churchill physically backwards into the corridor and persuaded
him to wait backstage until the other man had finished, thus averting a very embarrassing incident.

Surely only Keith could boss, and literally push, Churchill around without compunction!
His favourite adjective was “useful”, referring to people as well as things, and he was above all a deeply practical person who believed in taking action to improve the world around him. Everything he did was rooted in his deeply-held values of justice, fairness, generosity and kindness without a sliver of sentimentality. He had specified that he wanted his body to be donated for medical purposes after his death and his wishes have been carried out. A letter of gratitude from the London Anatomy Office
declared: “Keith will join our ‘silent teachers’ assisting in the teaching of future healthcare
professionals”. After a very long life of immeasurable contribution Keith is typically continuing to be profoundly “useful” even after his death.
I will miss him enormously but have so many happy memories of our 14 years of friendship and partnership – my life has been radically affected by knowing him and I will always be deeply grateful.

Sir Nicholas Young:

For the Monte San Martino Trust, the death of our founder Keith Killby feels like the end of an era. Keith was one of the last of our original PoW veterans, and the only surviving former prisoner member of our board of trustees.
He was also, until very recently, a very active member of the Trust team. Having set the Trust up, developed its activities, and funded many of them personally, nearly thirty years ago, he might have been forgiven for taking a back seat. But not Keith! He was passionate about the Trust and its work to the end, completely determined that it should flourish and grow, untiring in his efforts to ensure that the courage of so many Italian
families should be recognised, unflagging in his encouragement and support for those prepared to help – and at times irritatingly if justifiably constant in his insistent focus on priorities and attention to detail.

Even in the last days of his long and extraordinary life, he was asking for updates on the work of the Trust, and wanting to discuss possibilities for the next speaker at the Trust’s annual lunch.

He was in every way an inspiration to all of us, a source of wise counsel, sound common sense, dry and impish humour, and active and constant compassion.
Thanks to his care and attention, the Trust is in good heart and health, with a vibrant membership, a dedicated bunch of trustees and volunteers, the prospect of increasing student numbers, and growing public awareness in Italy and the UK.

The baton has been well and truly passed from Keith’s generation to the next; a baton that sons, daughters and grandchildren have been proud to pic up – the principled and inspirational example of our founder and friend Keith Killby ever before us.”