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RAF Rufforth, Summer 1943

A bus into York from camp took me to the station where I caught the usual train into Hull but running a bit late I thought.

Arriving in Hull I had to race across the city centre to the ferry which was the last one that evening only to see it just disappearing - what to do? Go back to camp or get across the river some other way. Fortunately there were some small boats with outboard motors down by the riverside with owners having a chat in the evening sun.

I approached them and one offered to take me across for ten shillings (50p) so even though the river looked endlessly wide I agreed to go. Three quarters of an hour later we arrived at the opposite bank, not really knowing where we were. The boatman suggested hitch-hiking to the nearest bit of civilisation so duly I walked for 3 miles and was picked up and dropped at a hotel where I found out that we were not far from the railway station on the way to Grimsby.

I waited another half an hour for the train which took me to the nearest station to my home in Lincolnshire, a village called Riby. Then I had to find a telephone box to phone the post office where the owner said he would take a message to my father asking him to cycle and bring my bicycle to the station. This was the usual form of transport especially in the country during the war.

I was so pleased to see him arrive at the station, so my week-end bag strapped on the back we cycled home. Another hour, anyway I was quite thrilled about the whole journey. What an adventure and a very different 48 hours.

I went back the usual way — caught the ferry this time!

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