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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library on behalf of Kathryn Reid and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

"Mother Riley"

When stationed at RAF Swannington in 1944, I – along with many other Air Force personnel was invited to the home of Mr and Mrs Riley, the owners of the grocery shop, in the nearby village of Cawston.

From the Midlands, they had come to live in Norfolk to try to improve the health of their 12 year old son, whilst their 16 year old son helped his parents in the shop. It is my belief that both of the sons are still living in Norwich.

Mrs. Riley became affectionately addressed as "Mother Riley", not because she was like the Music Hall character of that name, but because she was a wonderful "Mother" to all of us who were fortunate enough to enjoy her kindness, understanding and hospitality.

Her home was a haven and whatever time of day we called to see her we were greeted with a cheery smile and a wonderful welcome. She usually insisted on giving us a meal. It tasted very good indeed, like food from the Gods after our Air Force stodge.

Sunday evenings we often attended the small chapel in the village with Mother Riley – she "recruited" us to give songs and recitals to the congregation. After the service it was back to hers, supper, and then we’d gather round the piano to have a good sing-along of wartime songs, especially good when the RAF Welsh boys joined us with their lovely voices. After we would wend our way back to our cold Nissen huts, which were often waterlogged from the overflowing lakes on the site.

WAAFS, on the station, married to anyone in aircrew, who were posted many miles faraway (as was Air Force procedure), were able to spend precious leave together at "Mother Riley's" and at sad partings would be given the benefit and the comfort of her solace in their sorrow.

I often felt any of us could face whatever wartime tragedies the coming weeks might bring; thanks especially to Mother Riley, her family love and understanding.

On the Beach at Cromer the Day before D Day

For a few months before D Day our mail had been censored and the Norfolk coastal areas made out of bounds. A day or two before D Day I was given a pass of permission to travel to Cromer, to try to contact a relation stationed there with the Paratroopers - I didn't find him, but I found Cromer!

The town deserted of civilians, battle scarred and shabby. In need of pots of paint to brighten the exterior of the depressing, neglected buildings – the War years had certainly taken their toll.
Heading for the beach to cheer myself up, I found my way on to it was practically barred. There were huge rolls of barbed wire all along the shore, behind these resting on the sand, their khaki uniforms blending with it were, it seemed, the whole British Army!

One large group of men asked me to join them. What a cheery group they were; older and wiser, having already had their baptism of fire on war torn foreign beaches. We laughed, joked and yarned our way through that hot June afternoon.

On leaving them a sad faced soldier approached me to enquire what all the laughter had been about. He looked as though he needed some laughter himself. I wished him good luck and happier, peaceful days.

The following day the beach was deserted, left to the sea and gulls. The Army had departed for a more deadly shore.

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