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This is the personal diary of Mrs Ruth Irving-Bell and covers the period 1944 through to the end of the Second World War in the Far East.

"We were well on into 1944 and things were looking good in Europe. My cousin had been demobbed from the AIF in the Middle East and went home to help his elderly father with the sheep station. In the 'topsy turvey' seasons, we had yet another scorching summer day at Christmas and the news was exciting: Huge American bombers spilling their destruction on Jap cities and ships. However we still had no idea where the prisoners (POW's in Malaya) were, or whether the Japs, seeing defeat, would kill all the remainder.

Winter turned to spring 1945, the most beautiful season in Australia, with all the wild flowers and wattle. Even the gum trees put on some pink colouring after the dull, blue grey. The news became exciting, with the fall of Hitler and Co. I had by this time, obtained a small radio.

One evening in August, everyone went to the cinema, except for a friend, Judy (whose husband was in Sumatra) and me. I had been on the beach much of the day and went to bed early. Jonathan was fast asleep and I was just dropping off, when there was a knock on the door and Judy's excited voice saying
"The war is over!!"
I thought she must be joking, until she told me about the bomb on Hiroshima etc., and that the Japs had surrendered. It really seemed unbelievable and was so marvellous after the wretched years full of horror stories about PoW torture. It was wonderful to hear that the Japs were getting some of their own medicine! Then the others came in from the cinema and someone produced a bottle of sherry, and we all drank toasts to the Yanks who dropped the bomb.

I got on with the business of booking passages home on the Blue Funnel S.S. 'Sarpedon'. My travel plans were almost upset by Jonathan's attack of measles. Very fortunately there was the usual dock strike on Sydney waterfront which delayed the ship for long enough to see Jonathan out of quarantine. I embarked thankfully, saying farewell to Melbourne.

We called in at Fremantle and the ship was again delayed, this time by an electricians' strike, for which I was glad as a note from Roy had been sent on from my cousins near Melbourne. Roy did not know quite where we were! He wrote that he and the other (not many)surviving PoWs were being shipped home through Suez.

Our route was around the Cape of Good Hope, calling in at Durban and Cape Town.-- pleasant in normal circumstances, but all any of us wanted was to hurry home. There were a large number of us refugees with children from about 4 years upwards, and they all had a marvellous time. As the vessel was a coal-burning one, coal had to be taken on at Durban, a noisy business with the coal clattering down into the bunkers all night, and coal dust everywhere! The children became black, and the crew had a big job cleaning up the ship on our way to Cape Town. We took a taxi to see the town and the Botanic Gardens, where there were gorgeously-coloured birds.

Back on board we set sail northwards up the west coast of Africa, with the ocean getting rougher and greyer as we approached Liverpool. I had bought a special hat in Melbourne, which I thought was rather smart. Hats were fashionable at that time, but as we approached the quay, there was Roy, who shouted up
"For goodness sake get rid of that hat!".
So I threw it into the sea! I hardly recognised him because, having arrived in England all 'skin and bone' several weeks previously, he had been given double rations and lots of farm eggs, so he had put on weight very quickly and now sported a large round face. He was of course a complete stranger to Jonathan.

We stayed with the families to start with, before buying 'Milestones', a little cottage which we furnished with borrowed bits and pieces, until we could visit salerooms and buy whatever it was possible to get with coupons. So ended my war, but soon after returning to Malaya, another war broke out, called 'The Emergency', which made estate life very uncertain and thoroughly unpleasant. However, that is another story!"

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