Open Writing

3 May: 'Still no sight of land this morning. Raining and windy. Sea a pale green. Played solo in morning, after dinner went to whist drive and enjoyed it. Seems we're in pretty dangerous waters. Some depth charges dropped. Quite a lot of men seasick, but I escaped it.'

4 May: 'At last land sighted first thing. I saw it at 6.15 a.m. Reckon it must be the south coast of Ireland, as we're heading due east. Told will be in tomorrow at 4.45 p.m. Sighted land to starboard - must be Blighty! Blighty, I can't believe it. What a feeling. Went to community singing in evening.'

On 5 May, 1945, eleven days after leaving Naples: 'Up at 6 a.m. to find we were sailing up the Clyde. Finally dropped anchor off Gourock about 10.30 a.m. What excellent news today, few more days should see end of the war with Germany. Hung about all day, trying to pass time playing cards. At 6 p.m. we finally left our ship, onto a lighter. Then we were ashore. It was raining, but what did it matter, it was Blighty at last. Were given tea, cigarettes, chocolates and cake. By train to Ibrox Park. Good system here. No going to bed, working all night with rations, pay, kit, etc.'

The last time I'd seen Gourock was ‘to board the Empire Pride', in which I was to spend nine unhappy weeks. That was September 1941, three years and eight months ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.

Ibrox Park in Glasgow is the home ground of the Rangers football club. There we were all 'sorted out' and next morn¬ing I left Ibrox station with a pass made out until 8 June.

'First stop Keighley, changed in Leeds, got to Huddersfield about 5.30 in the evening and just couldn't believe it. However it was true, for I got a taxi and was home for 6 o'clock.' My mother and father were in tears, and the neighbours turned out in force. Those emotional mo¬ments are difficult to describe, excitement, joy, relief ... home.

Jessie was now out of the Land Army, and when I arrived was at a friend's house nearby. My father went to tell her I was home, and I hid behind the door as she burst in shouting: 'Where is he? Where is he?' Another emotional happy reunion.

7 May: 'Well I'm not dreaming. I'm really home.'

I had lots of aunts and uncles (my father was one of a family of seven, and there were eight in my mother's family), so the next few days were spent visiting and being visited: hectic, happy days.

Jessie and I walked in the quiet of Beaumont Park where in our childhood and teenage years we'd spent many happy hours, and I called in to see the men in the bakehouse where I had worked from the age of fourteen. I wondered if, after I left the Army, I would settle down again and work in a bakery? That was a difficult ques¬tion, and I didn't know the answer.

I also went into town to see Jessie at George Hall's, the same shop at which she had worked before the Land Army, and where she had now returned. The man in charge was a retired army officer, Mr McNee — and he gave me £1!

8 May, 1945: 'V.E. Day and Jessie and Dad have holiday today and tomorrow. The whole country celebrating. Street parties, flags flying, and everywhere a feeling of joy and patriotism.' In the after¬noon I went with my father to his local club where we had a drink and chat with some of his friends. Then in the evening relatives came to our house and we held a party of our own.

14 May: 'Stan would have been twenty-four today ...'

Jessie's twenty-first birthday was on 15 May, so we had a '21st/Welcome Home' party. My bakery boss, Mr Whitaker, supplied the cake and I decorated it; but instead of twenty-one candles I put twenty-one miniature Union Jacks on top.

We actually held the party on the 16th as this was a Wednesday, and Jessie's half day off work. (All the shops in Huddersfield closed on Wednesday afternoons.) Mr Whitaker took the cake to Whiteley's Restaurant in town. Forty-two guests had been invited, some of whom I hadn't seen yet, so it was one big happy get-together. 'Had a marvellous time — wonderful.' I bought Jessie a rose for a corsage, and Topper Brown sent her a huge bouquet of carnations.