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This story was submitted to the People's war site by CSV/´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Nottingham on behalf of Jack H Storer with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

This is another memory of World War II but this one had a happy ending.

The invasion of Europe had been launched in June 1944 and some time later I was serving as GSO III (Int) on the staff of HQ East Anglian District based in Newmarket, Suffolk.. After the initial landings in Normandy there had been a period when the Allies were locked in the bridgehead whilst building up their strength, but then the break out occurred and, in August 1944 there was the great Battle of The Falaise Gap, when the German ring round the Allies was broken, and the chase across Europe began. One day I was Duty Officer when a code word was received which I had to pass on to various other recipients, one of which was the local White Lodge Hospital. On receipt of that code word they had to evacuate certain wards in order to receive battle casualties — and we all assumed that they would be British or allied casualties. Later that day an ambulance train arrived at Newmarket and I had to gather as many men as possible to help as stretcher bearers to unload the train. I can still remember the overwhelming smell as the doors of the train were opened and I quickly discovered that the train was loaded with wounded Germans captured at the Battle of the Falaise Gap whose wounds had been dressed on the battle field two or three days before.. They had then been brought across to England, placed in the ambulance train and brought on to Newmarket. They were transferred to various destinations, the most severely wounded being taken to White Lodge Hospital where I was responsible for security and, also, for the security of the nursing staff. I was asked to arrange for VP Military Police to patrol the ward to reassure the nurses. The VPs (Vulnerable Point) were a special branch of the RMP who wore blue cap covers instead of the usual red tops trained in guard duties. As the stamping of their boots at night disturbed the ward I obtained permission for them to patrol in soft shoes!

I visited the hospital regularly and began to realise that I was paying more attention to one ward than was strictly necessary in the course of my duties, for I was greatly attracted by the Canadian accent of the Sister in charge — and she had gorgeous legs and ankles! I never saw her face for whenever I called she would be wearing a face mask whilst dressing wounds — and some were dreadfully badly wounded. Among the patients were several members of one of the leading German symphony orchestras which had been mobilised en masse. They ranged in age from men, who had been too old for service until then, to little more than boys. One patient had been the leading violinist who had had the whole of one arm and shoulder blown off. Some were rabid Nazis: others were frightened ordinary men and youths, thankful to be out of the war. One day I visited the hospital and asked to see the Canadian sister in charge of the ward and found a much older Canadian woman in charge. I was embarrassed but she quickly twigged who I really wanted to see and spared my blushes. She told me that the other sister was off duty, so I was thwarted. And I still didn’t know the girl’s name. A few days later there was a HQ ‘all ranks’ fancy dress dance when, as was the war time custom, in order to find partners for the troops, ‘passion wagons’ (army 3 x ton trucks), were sent to the local hospitals and any other places where there were numbers of young women, to bring them as partners to the dance. I went along, as young officers were expected to do, and saw a very attractive young woman dressed as a flower girl with a basket of flowers on her arm, standing on the stairs, and I had a hunch! I had to hear her voice for I did not know for sure what ‘she’ looked like, so I went up to her and said ‘Are you who I think you are? To which she replied ‘That depends on who you want me to be’. And then I knew. We danced and danced, especially the old fashioned waltz, and then came the last waltz, always to the tune ‘Whose taking you home tonight, after the dance is done? for, to take the girl of your fancy home was always worth a kiss (or two) but, in those days, nothing more. I could only escort her to the passion wagon and there was no kiss - then - but I knew who she was and we met again and again. As the wounded recovered they were transferred to prisoner of war camps and ‘she’ became theatre sister. The war in Europe drew to an end, but the war in the Far East had to be won and I was posted to the staff of 61 (Light) Division training in Kent for the airborne invasion of Japan. Following the dropping of the atomic bombs in August 1945 and the Japanese surrender, I was sent to the Middle East where I joined an Indian Armoured Division in the Levant and eventually went on to India.

In 1949, Margaret and I married and, as I write this in 2005, we have been happily married for nearly 56 years, have twin sons and five grandchildren.

It is good to tell of a war time story with a happy ending.

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