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We were driving North and we were at the rear of the convoy in the breakdown lorry as usual. We came across an Indian lad standing by the side of his lorry. He flagged us down and as we stopped a military police lance corporal shouted to us to get our ‘dam’ lorry off the road. I didn’t say anything to him but just gave him a black look. What the MP didn’t know was that having been with Indian lads for so long, I could by this time speak their language. This particular Indian lad was nearly in tears so I asked him, in his own language, what the trouble was. He told me that he had broken down right outside a pig farm. The thing was that although cows are sacred to Hindus, pigs are just the opposite and are consider evil. So what with that and the MP shouting and raving at him, it was not surprising that he was so upset. I told him not to worry as I would see if my lads could fix the lorry. Then I turned to the MP and asked him why he had been shouting and upsetting the Indian lad. He asked me what I’d been talking to the Indian lad about. I told him it was none of his business but I did tell him in no uncertain terms that he should have known better than to act in the way he had. He then started shouting at me and I was beginning to loose my temper. MP or not, I told him if I hadn’t come along goodness knows what might have happened. The MP then said he would arrest me! By this time I was so mad I told him to be very careful or it would be me who would be reporting him. In fact I told him to get on his motorbike and leave us to it as he was doing nothing to help. He must have realised the seriousness of the situation and that I meant what I said as he did get on his bike and drive off.
By this time the lads had found the trouble with the lorry. Dirt from the petrol had got into the carburettor — we had a lot of that. Much to the Indian lad’s relief we were soon able to get him back on the road. He was so grateful he was almost on this hands and knees thanking us. We followed him to make sure he was all right until he turned off to take a different road to us.

Visit to the Opera
Our company went right back to Ravenna on the Adriatic coast. After a while we went right across country and down the Mediterranean side to Naples. While we were in Naples I noticed that the theatre was going to stage Verdi’s opera ‘The Barber of Saville’. Although I realised I would not be able to understand the words at least I would be able to listen to the music and the singing, so I booked a seat. For me it was more than a treat — it was really something! I never saw anything like it again. The whole atmosphere was almost indescribable. The lights in the auditorium were turned down a few minutes before the curtain went up and the doors were closed and late comers were not allowed in so as not to distract or disturb the audience.

Homeward Bound (at last)
Although the war in Italy was over, there was still fighting in Europe and Burma. The No. 1 Heavy Bridge Company got completely re-organised. I never found out for what reason. Perhaps they went into Europe or even round the other side of the World to Burma. In any case Harold Sills and I were given our papers to come back to England. The same as a lot of the lads, we had had enough of the war and were glad it was all over for us. And so after four years we said good-bye to Colonel Grant, Lieutenants Ward and Worsdale, Yorkie and the rest of the lads.
We had a choice to return to England by either boat or plane. I choose the plane as I thought it would be quicker than a boat. In the end Harold finished up in hospital in Naples. So he didn’t fly home with me as he had hoped. Going right back to the time we were in India and had no money for about ten weeks, you may remember we were treated to a game of Bingo and won a lot of money. The next day Harold told me he was going into town. He tried to persuade me to go with him but as I had guessed correctly what he was going for, I immediately refused. I told him he was a fool and did my utmost to talk him out of it but all to no avail. Of course he went with a woman and that was the cause of him going in and out of hospital during all our years of travelling together. Whilst we were in transit waiting for an aeroplane he was more than worried, as he didn’t know what he was going to tell his wife. I told him the only thing he could do was to tell her the truth and chance the outcome. Although I did know he lived just outside Manchester, we never exchanged our addresses and did not keep in touch.

When we arrived at the airfield we had to form a line and irrespective of rank, from private to officer we numbered off from left to right. We were then taken to the plane, which was a Lancaster bomber. All the equipment had been taken out of the fuselage, which left a large empty steel tunnel with no windows. Painted on the floor of the fuselage were two rows of circles about the size of a small dinner plate. In each circle was painted a number. So the number you had in the line up was the number in the circle where you sat. As I sat there waiting to take off I began to wonder if I’d have been better to have taken the boat! There was nothing to hold on to and it was a scary six-hour flight. For all the discomfort we landed safely in England. We had to go through Customs (which was only a formality) before we were allowed to send a free telegram home. We were then taken to a depot where we were issued with a pass for four weeks leave and train tickets home.
The only other time I saw Harold Sills was in the transit camp after my four weeks leave. He told me he was very lucky, as his wife had forgiven him for his indiscretion in India. I don’t know were he was posted to but I finished off my army career in Aldershot.

Home at Last
Home at last, after all the years of trouble and trauma. And it wasn’t just trouble and trauma for the people in the forces. It had been an awful time for the civilian population, not just in England but also throughout Europe, the Middle East, the Far East and Japan. At the very least people had put up with years of very meagre food and clothes rationing and many people had put up with much worse. At the start of the War German bombers had hit most of our industrial towns and our fighter pilots had shot down a large number of their planes. Later we were sending a thousand bombers at a time to do the same to the German towns.
As I have said, when we arrived in England I was given a pass for one month’s leave and a train ticket to Nottingham. Although it may sound a bit queer, as I walked up the path home I felt as though I was a stranger and had no right to be there. I even went to knock at the door to ask if I could go in. The house was just as I‘d last seen it. Ivy was doing some ironing, still with the old iron heated in front of the same old coal fired cast iron hearth. The kitchen was just the same with the old sink, cast iron stove and copper to boil the clothes in. And we still had to light a fire under the copper to heat the water and we still had gaslights. Of course no improvements could have been made to the house during the War.
One thing I was pleased about was there were no banners, balloons or flags waving and no parties. It was just like getting home after a day’s work. Looking back that’s what it seemed like.
After Ivy and I had got over my homecoming, I asked where Margaret was. When Ivy told me she was at school, I asked her if she was going to meet her. Ivy told me Margaret would be coming home on her own. I suddenly realised she was at least seven years old. She had been only two when I had last seen her! When she came in from school we were just like strangers. Ivy had to tell Margaret that I was her Dad. I know it may sound strange but for a short while I felt as though Margaret thought I was intruding. From a very young age it had just been Mum and her.
As I’ve said I was given a month’s leave. Although it passed very quickly, it gave us time to settle down. We had to do a lot of visiting — my Mum, Ivy’s Dad and step Mum and all the rest of the family. Ivy’s sister Vicky at Cromer did write us a letter asking if we would like to go to see them for a week’s holiday, which we gratefully accepted. It made a real change for Ivy and Margaret as of course they had not had a holiday during the War. It was also a rest for me and helped me to try to get over my five years abroad.
Vicky and Charles had moved from the cottage and had a house, which was still quite near the field leading to the cliffs and the lighthouse. The huts on the cliff ledge had been removed and they had lost their dog. Charles didn’t have to join the armed forces, as he was a butcher, which was an exempt occupation. The shop were he worked was not far from the house. So most nights when it was time for Charles to finish work Margaret liked to go and meet him. The weather was kind to us and we were able to get out for a stroll on the beach and around the town. But like all good things the time came for us to go back home much as we would have liked to stay a little longer. In fact I feel sure a few tears were shed as we got on the train.
So once again I was home if only for a few days before I had to return to Aldershot. In the meantime there was not a lot I could do except to get my bearings and look around at all the places I’d missed for so long.

Back to Aldershot
When my month was up, it was back to Aldershot once again. I was very unhappy to leave Ivy and Margaret. I was given the front room of a large house that I had to share with three other sergeants all of whom were strangers to me. We soon became friends and made the best of what little we had. I must say, the rough camp beds were a lot better than trying to get a few hours sleep just on a ground sheet on desert sands in Africa or the hard ground in Italy.
We were each given a job. I was given the Regimental Quarter Master stores, one lad was given the Company Quarter Master stores, another was given the Cook House and the fourth was given the Company Workshop in the garages. It may seem funny now but he is the only one whose name I can still remember — he was Bernard Ruff.
One thing we had to be certain to do each day was to look at the notice board. It wasn’t long before I noticed that I was detailed to attend church parade with the other sergeants.

The Church Parade
The sergeants provided the escort to the officers. The parade was organised with full military pomp and precision complete with a band to march us to the church. Whilst I had been overseas I, like all the other lads had had a very unpleasant job to do. When we were covered in sand in the desert or covered in dirt in Italy, military spit and polish was not high on the agenda. So it took a bit of getting used to being back in true military ways.
On the parade two sergeants stood a few feet apart with an officer in between them but a few feet behind them. At the church the two sergeants stopped and turned inwards to face each other. They then saluted the officer as he marched his men into church. All the pairs of sergeants on the parade lined up and turned inward to salute their officer. By the time the parade had entered the church there were about twenty-four sergeants lined up facing each other outside. The Sergeant Major marched at the rear of the parade and when he got to the church door he stopped to shout the order for the sergeants to dismiss and enter the church.
I took a step to one side and when they had all entered the church I took a leisurely stroll round before finishing with a cup of tea in the N.A.A.F.I. I had not been there long before the Orderly Officer and his Sergeant came and asked me if I was on church parade. I said that I was. So out came the Sergeant’s notebook and he wrote down my answers to the questions that the officer asked me. After they had finished I showed the officer my Army book, which had all my particulars and we had to carry with us at all times. It confirmed that I was Methodist and therefore did not have to go to a Church of England service. I didn’t hear any more from the Orderly Officer although that was my first and last Church of England parade. From then on, if there was a church parade I had to parade with the Methodists. There were only a few of us with no officer or sergeant major so I had to march us into town to the Methodist Chapel.

Visit to Hospital and Toothache
Whilst I was in Aldershot I suffered two medical conditions. First I woke up very early one morning and was sweating. It wasn’t as bad as it had been when I was out in Al-Habbaniyah but enough for me to wonder if the sand fly bug had been laying dormant and had now took hold again. When the lads woke up, as I was a little anxious, I asked if someone could fetch the doctor, as I couldn’t get up and go and see him. The lads could see how I was and asked if the doctor could see me as soon as possible, which he did. He examined me and asked if I’d had anything like it before. So I told him about the Al-Habbaniyah sand fly where upon he immediately sent me to the hospital. It was the same routine as before. As soon as I got there it was into bed and sweat for a few days whilst the doctors came to see me regularly. Then it was a bath and back to nice fresh bed for a few days recuperation. After that I was giving a thorough examination with a blood test and the lot. I was told not to worry, as there was absolutely no sign of the sand fly bug, which was a big relief. And so I was able to return to barracks.
I was orderly sergeant and one of my duties was to mount guard over night. In the middle of one particular night I developed a really bad toothache. Obviously I couldn’t do anything about it until the next morning when I went to see the doctor and he sent me to the dentist. After he’d taken two or three teeth out he gave me a note to excuse duties for a couple of days to recover.

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