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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Holly Fuller of Leicestershire Library Services on behalf of Mr Norman Startin and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was 18 on the 29th December 1944 and I joined the army on 4th January 1945. I remember it was snowing at the time. I decided to do my training in Scarborough, as it was the seaside and I had only ever been to the coast once before on a day trip. I trained for six months and they were the happiest days of my life, the food was good and the other lads were really friendly. We stayed in the Grand Hotel and were known as the 40TB — Operators training Battalion.

I was posted to Burma in December 1945, when the war was officially over, however, there was still plenty going on. To start with we did lots of travelling. I remember going to Calcutta and then to Randoo. From here a landing craft picked us up but we didn’t know where we needed to be taken and the driver wasn’t sure either. We spent four more hours travelling and ended up in Einsine. We settled here for a month but because we were receiving no mail and could not send any home we decided to go and ask other camps if they had our letters. While negotiating with one troop and explaining who we were they realised we were the reinforcements that they had been waiting for. They didn’t even know we had landed.

One of my funniest memories of being in the army was when I was injured. It may sound strange to say it is a funny memory but I found myself in hysterics at the time and still laugh about it now. I was in the back of a truck and the driver saw a communist parade, he decided to drive at them to scar them and I leaned out the back of the truck and pointed a gun at them. We then sped off, unfortunately we hit a pothole just as I was laying my gun back down. The gun went off and the bullet flew around the lorry and hit me in the thigh. I found myself really laughing as the gunshot had made two Burmese men dive into a ditch too take shelter. I had my wound dressed in hospital and then went off to a leave camp in India for 28 days.

I really enjoyed my days in the Army and have some fond memories but I am still upset that the men like myself who never served until after the war had ended did not get any recognition. I did not get a war medal until last year and when it did arrive I found it was very insulting. The ribbon was tattered, so I sent it back with a letter explaining my disgust. When it came back to me with a replacement ribbon I gave it to my son to keep. I was 21 when I left the army and my experiences had made me grow up quickly.

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