大象传媒

It was very misty and cold that morning and we were walking round the deck when the mist cleared to give us a look at our homeland. After passing Southend, the ship sailed slowly south of the rugged island of Sanda, its white lightnouse showing up against the rocky scene behind it. The ships separated, some going North to Liverpool or the Clyde; some south to other ports.
We were informed that we would disembark at liverpool and were set to work make packed lunches for those going ashore on the next day. 8,000 slices of bread and 4,000 tins of bully beef: there were men everywhere slicing bread and cutting up the meat!! We finished the job just after midnight.
We didn't need an early call; the next morning all the troops were lining the decks as we sailed up the River Mersey. As we passed close to the Formby Buoy, the Liverpool lads pointed out the towns of Crosby and Bootle. The ship was manoeuvered into a dock near the Liver Buildings. I wrote a quick letter to my Mother and Father to let them know I was back on the island and got one of the men going ashore first to post it for me.
Soon two gangways were in position and the first men were going down them, but still it took all day. During the hours of darkness, a number of us sat along the docks looking at the silhouettes of the Liverpool Buildings. This was uncanny to us as we had never seen a town with such a complete blackout. Early next morning it was our turn to go down the gangways and put our feet on UK soil for the first time in five and a half years. To think: I only went for one year!! It was a great feeling to be back but mixed with sadness at the number of our friends we had left behind who would never be coming back home.
We were marched to the customs sheds carrying our kit bags very carefully as we had bought a;ll the whisky and cigarettes we could pack into them. However, as none of us had any money left to pay customs duties, we all said that we had nothhing to declare. Only one said he had and had it all confiscated!!
We boarded the railway carriages in the sidings. It was a high climb up on to the first step, but when the Railway workers knew we were from the Eighth Army, they all waded in to help us get on, throwing our kit bags up to us. The carriages were then shunted on to a train going to London. As the train waited in Lime Street Station, passengers became aware of us and where we were from and they all seemed to want a good look at us. As the train pulled out of the station,they gave us a good send off by cheering and waving. It was nice to know we were appreciated and also to be in a British train again with its upholstered seats and glass windows, even if it was Third Class. Although I was a non-smoker, the smell of tobacco smoke which lingered in all the carriages, seemed to make it more homely. The lovely scenery compared with what we had been used to for the last few years seemed like heaven and I soon fell asleep.
I woke up as we pulled into Brookwood station and was detailed to take charge of the kit bags, take them to the waiting truck and load them on. Outside the station was the truck and the Spit and Dribble (i.e. the Fife and Drum) Band who were waiting to pay the Sandmen. We had been given this nickname because of the Africa Star medal we were all wearing. As chief loader, I was able to hitch a ride back to camp!!
The R.S.M. freddie Archer, was one of the great and the good!! before we arrived back at pirbright Camp, he had gone around all the pubs in the Aldershot area buying up all the beer the landlords could spare as drink was rationed. He gave us a Homecoming Party to remember.
The next morning Freddie had everything ready for us to get away on leave as quickly as possible. He must have worked the Orderly Room Staff all night preparing Passes, Rail Warrants, Pay and Ration Cards. Transport was laid on to take us the short journey to Brookwood Station from where we caught a train to Waterloo. Then those of us going north headed for Euston Station where we found we couldn't get a train until 9.00p.m. We put our kit bags into the Left Luggage Office and had a walk around London to see the alterations the Luftwaffe had made.
At 7 p.m. we amde our way back to Euston via the Underground and witnessed the sad side of the war. Many workers and old people were making their beds for the night on the stairs and on the platforms, up to 2 feet from the edge and the arriving trains. They had kettles making tea, clockwork gramophones and cardboard boxes with tiny babies in them. They seemd to be cheerful despite the situation and I think it was because they felt secure in the belly of the Underground.
At 8 p.m. the Air Raid sirens started wailing but the bombing was well away from this area. the train arrived and there was a mad surge for it: we tried to hang back like gentlemen, but realised that if we did we would miss the train!! The compartments were packed like sardines!!
I slept for most of the journey and aroung 8 a.m. we arrived in Glasgow. I stretched my cramped muscles and aching bones and levered myself up to the window. I was looking down on Jamaica Street Bridge with tram cars moving across it. The River Clyde was flowing under us. Ignoring my aches and pains, I just had to watch this scene that I had thought never to see again.
The train arrived at Central station and we were soon off, shouting farewells to our mates. I went down the stairs leading to Argyll St to stand at the tram stop just yards from the Station Bridge, known as the Scotsmen's Umbrella! It was raining, but Scots rain felt like whisky where the Italian rain had been just water!! I looked at the old grey buildings with their electric advertising signs not working. I remember one "Take a Peg of John Begg", a whisky advert!!
A tram soon arrived and I was on my way through Old Glasgow Toon last seen in February 1936: through Glasgow Cross, on to London Rd, past the Barras, the world famous market, past the fancy building of James Templeton, where I had worked before joining the Army and finally to Dalmarnock Power Station where I left the tram.
I took the long way round as I wanted to see the damage done by a land mine intended for the Power Station. I'd got to know about this from letters from home:it had just missed the Power Station but had demolished a row of small cottages. The grey tenements on the left of Allen St and part of the red sandstone ones, were gone.
I walked to the corner of Allen St, then to Woddrup St where I had a wee look to make sure there were no "Welcome Home" decorations.All was clear and there was no-one about.
I crossed the street to number 27. I can't describe the feeling as I stood outside looking at the highly polished name plate! I wanted to shout in my best Guradsman's voice " I HAVE FG MADE IT", but my mother was a wee bit religious and it might have frightened the life out of the neighbours, so I quietly knocked on the door. I heard my mother saying "Who can this be? I'm not expecting anyone", the lock turned, the door opened. I WAS HOME AT LAST AND ALL IN ONE PIECE!!

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