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I was in a reserved occupation working in central London on Government communications. Margaret, my fiancée, had volunteered to serve in the ATS soon after she became 18 and for most of the war she was stationed at Fishbourne, just outside Chichester. We lived in Surrey and had fallen in love when we were both 16 — when the war was barely a year old. From our different viewpoints we were both well aware of the build-up for D-Day.

Margaret had been able to get home from Chichester, even on a 24-hour pass, so we were able to see each other fairly frequently. We knew how lucky we were, but it wasn’t to last. As preparations for the invasion of Europe got under way a ‘prohibited area’ was declared all along the south and south-east coast of England. Margaret was not allowed out of the area except on a long leave and I was not allowed in. This made life difficult for us but love wasn’t to be thwarted without an effort. We put our thinking caps on.

Margaret discovered that the border of the prohibited area was at Singleton, about six miles to the north of Chichester. One Saturday shortly before D-Day, when we both had a weekend off duty, we arranged to meet at Singleton. I travelled by train to Horsham, then by a bus that went to Chichester via Singleton. The plan was for me to get off at Singleton and meet Margaret at the border there. All went well until a mile or two before Singleton where the bus stopped at a barrier and a policeman came on board. To my horror I realised that it was the border and that I was a long way from Singleton. The policeman was checking identity cards and anyone not entitled to enter the prohibited area was turned off the bus. I did some quick thinking. I planned to leave a message for Margaret with the conductor and hope that she would get it. I would suggest that she should get the next bus, or walk to meet me where I was stranded.

I sat tight as the policeman came upstairs, where I was seated in the double-decker bus. There were several school children on the bus who had to cross the border to get to school. One of them, a boy, was sitting behind me and he didn’t have his identity card with him. When the policeman got to him he gave the boy a good telling off. As he did so he held his hand out for my card, which I gave him. He glanced at it and handed it back. He was so busy telling the boy off that he didn’t notice the Surrey address on my card. And there was me praying like mad for a miracle! I continued to sit tight. Presently the checking was completed, the policeman left the bus and it continued on its journey. At Singleton I found a very anxious Margaret. She was going to ask the conductor about me but was amazed and delighted when I appeared. We walked around for an hour and then caught the next bus into Chichester. After a pleasant afternoon and tea at the YWCA I returned home by train. Military Police were keeping a close watch on military personnel at the railway station and whilst civilian Police questioned all arrivals they paid no attention to people departing.

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