大象传媒

My D-Day story took place in a small Cheshire village, ten miles from the city of Chester, called Tarporley. The date was approximately between September 1943-April 1944.

Age eleven years I was a newspaper boy delivering paperes from the village newsagents managed by my Grandmother. My newspaper round took me about two miles from the village.

One morning I found there was a convoy of US army vehicles park alongside the road full of US troops. I was full of curiosity as this was the first time I had ever seen anyone from another country, more so a coloured person. As I stood staring some of them shouted out 'Hey paperboy sell us a paper.' I replyed that I couldn't let them have one as they were all ordered by customers and newspapers were in short supply due to 'The War'.

After much pressure from the troops and bribes of sweets and chewing gum I couldn't help but be pursuaded to sell them some papers. They told me that they would be billeted close by in a large country house called Bowmere and asked if I could deliver some papers to the 'country house' barracks next morning.

On returning to the shop I had to tell my Grandmother what I had done, and as many customers had no papers that morning I received a good telling off. She promised she would order extra for the next day.

The following morning I delivered the papers to the troops at their barracks. This became a regular thing and soon I was recognised by the guards on the main gate, and had free access to come and go as I pleased, going in the evenings after school and at weekends. I was allowed to attend film shows and eat in the mess. My new friends gave me chewing gum, American comics and fresh fruit. These were the first oranges I had seen for years.

That Christmas the troops gave me lots of presents which I took home to my parents and sister, cigarettes for my Dad and a huge catering tin of peaches for my mother. She was so excited with this gift. She managed to scrape together enough ingredients to bake a small cake, which I took to some of the troops which had befriended me. They were emotionally very grateful, as this was their first Christmas away from home.

I carried on my paper deliveries and social calls to the barracks during spring 1944. Troops sometimes went away for a few days and would return very tired and dirty but would still pay me for the papers. One morning, some time in late April, I called at the barracks as usual but no-one was there except two or three sentries on the gate. The place was empty and they wouldn't let me into the barracks. When I asked where the troops had gone they just said 'Away'.

Very upset and with tears in my eyes I turned back from the gates and cycled down the road to continue on my round. Then I saw dozens of army trucks in a nearby field. Going into the field I searched for my special friends and found them sitting in the rear of one of the trucks, fully kitted out complete with rifles etc. They lifted me into the truck and I spent about ten minutes asking them where they were going and when would they be back. They couldn't tell me where they were heading for. They all shook my hand and hugged me, then lowered me back to the ground.

As I stood there watching, orders went out and the vehicles fired up, and away they went down the road, out of my life for ever.
Some time later the news broke on the wireless that D-Day had started and British and American troops had landed on French soil. As we sat listening to the wireless my dad said to me 'That's where those Yanks of yours will be'. I followed the news about the fighting every day hoping that they were safe. I have never forgotten those American friends. I still have the autographs I collected from them and tried once, unsuccessfully, to contact them, which left me wondering if any of my 'friends' had ever made it back to their own homes.

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