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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Katherine Hobart, a volunteer from ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Northampton on behalf of Leoni Seymour and has been added to the site with her permission. Leoni Seymour fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

After Rhosneigr eight others and I were posted to the Isle of Man. The journey from Holyhead to Douglas was often rough, especially when the ship became stuck on a sandbank. Sea sickness spoiled the friendly fun! We were all billeted in what had been a seaside boarding house. Opposite was an Italian Internee Camp. The men walked up and down behind the wire fence, guarded by British troops. A second camp was in the town nearer the beach. In Douglas I became the Brigadier's personal driver. I had a Ford V8 — the other girls worked at the hospital driving ambulances and one became a dispatch rider as the boys in the workshop taught us all to ride motor bikes. I had to drive the Brigadier wherever he was needed. I had to open his car door, salute the uniform, go round the back of the car before taking the driving seat. When the Brigadier was aboard, I had to unplug the flag on the radiator front. Troops seeing the flag should salute. I smiled as I saw heads suddenly turn away! On the Isle of Man, I got to know the area well and learned a lot about their folklore. When not on duty the social life was fantastic. We went down to one of the town cafes, all smoke filled — it seemed everyone smoked in those days. We ordered toasted egg sandwiches and coffee — met no end of friends from Navy, RAF and Army. I was in Douglas for about a year — my best posting.

I then went back to Chester — staff car driving again. This time I was part of what was called 'the Pool'. This meant driving army officers from Lieutenant to General. I was eventually sent to Abergavenny, South Wales. I was billeted with the ATS there, who were clerks and very envious of me being able to travel when they were inside offices. We slept in a hut containing about thirty wooden double deck bunks with wash rooms at the end and a row of lock door bath spaces. I drove a staff car and American officers as well as British. In June I was booked to take a group to Swansea Docks. As we travelled we passed mile upon mile of fully equipped marching American troops all heading for the docks. On arrival the scene was one of acute noise and movement. Troops were boarding the anchored ships to the shouts from sergeants and other persons in charge. Hundreds were already on board, others lined the gangways. They were on their way to go abroad. I left that evening feeling anxious, sad and very apprehensive. An unexpected storm sprang up that night. All procedures were cancelled. We returned on June 6th — quite a different sight. Everywhere empty of ships, so calm and quiet and just a few people around. It seemed as if the only sound came from our voices and the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the docks. We now know the full outcome of this time!

I decided I would like to get onto the permanent staff at No.1 Training Depot, Camberley. I applied, was interviewed and obtained the posting. I went back as a full Corporal Instructor. I had never wanted a commission, I preferred staff car work. Officers carried out office work — that was not for me. I slept in a room in the main building. I was in charge of twenty-five training intakes for the six-week course. For vehicle instruction I had one student at a time behind the wheel, the rest sat in the back awaiting their turn. Each student was marked for progression. Officers carried out the final test. I took the squad for drill. They became very efficient. We instilled perfection in each and it paid off. Each student went to their posting with pride.

At No.1 our now Queen Elizabeth came over every day to carry out her training-she was part of a team of sergeants who were with her for every class. The King and Queen visited to see how she was progressing. She passed every course with excellence. She took the salute at our passing out parade as Camberley was closing-we were all being posted.

I was sent on leave to find my parents distraught. Despite living in the wilds of Essex a Buzz Bomb had landed in the meadow behind our house. The blast had blown hundreds of tiles off our roof. I was posted to Gresford, North Wales. There we slept in huts and eventually had to hand in our kit and receive our pay, travel warrants and demob papers. After some time at home, father found several moth holes in my stored tunic-he burnt it on the bonfire! My belt which many of us wore with our dungarees I still own and it still fits! It was the 'in-thing' to collect our boyfriend's badges and to fix the badges to the belt! In Essex several of us formed a reunion group. We met for meetings. My medals eventually arrived — issued to every serving person. My grandchildren think them glorious! I and others missed the companionship, discipline, fun and travel. It is good to be with like-minded people again whenever we meet ex-service friends.

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