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‘In early December I received news of the arrival of our second child, a boy. Edith had already decided to call him William George. I suppose she reasoned that if I didn't survive at least she would have another Billy. I felt that being tagged William George made him an early war casualty. As Christmas approached we were told that some home leave would be allowed. Applications on compassionate grounds would be considered first.

‘Naturally I applied on the grounds of Billy’s birth and was accepted. I had saved a little money and there was a store in Rennes called ‘Prisunic’ so I was able to buy a few small presents. They included a wooden plaque with a peasant girl’s head carved on it, a doll for my daughter Janet and a little woollen outfit for the new baby.

‘The sea crossing on the small ferry boat was considerably rougher than my first crossing. I remembered an old man's advice - if you feel you may be seasick get laid down - so using the wooden blocks they called a life jacket, I flopped down in a gangway and slept the trip away. I was very much looking forward to seeing Edith and the children. The field postal system was efficient so news of my expected arrival had reached Doncaster. I remember arriving home at 10.30 p.m., in full army kit. Edith's mother had kept William George junior up so I could get my first look at the new baby.

‘Much to my dismay I found that Edith was very poorly with a breast abscess and was due at Doncaster Infirmary the next morning for an operation to remove it. I was also informed that my father was in the same hospital with blood clot trouble arising from a leg wound he received serving in the Scots Guards during the Boer War.

‘He was delirious and the khaki uniform agitated him. He didn't know me so I only stayed with him for a few minutes. I didn't know at the time it would be the last time I would ever see him.

‘When I got back to Edith's mother I found Edith was already in the operating theatre and we had to sweat it out. When the operation was completed Edith looked terrible and was in an ague condition. It was an hour before they said we could take her home. We decided to get a taxi home. The operation took some clearing and the nurses confined her to bed all the time I was on leave. I did apply for a compassionate extension but the doctor wouldn't support it.

‘As a home leave it was a disaster. When the time came for him to cross the water again the sea was rougher than ever. The sea matched my mood. Within the week news arrived that my father had died. 1940 was off to an ominous start.’

This story was submitted to the people’s War site by a volunteer from CSV Oxford on behalf of the late Bill Harvey. It is a transcript of his own diary and taped interviews and he gave written permission for all the material to be published.

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