Home Again

It was the Twentieth of October, four years, almost to the day, since we had sailed from Liverpool, on the first leg of our journey which ended up with us landing in Singapore. We were so happy to be going ashore to a great welcome, the war was over and we had come through it all. The first thing I did was to send a telegram home to say I had arrived safely back in Liverpool. We had some pay and a travel warrant for the free train ride back home, so the railway station was the point we so eagerly made for next. After checking the time of the next train and time of arrival in New Street, Birmingham, I sent another telegram to say we were due in at 1.50 pm. I tried to imagine what it would be like when we arrived at Birmingham. Would anyone be there to meet me, and who? Then I thought, what would I look like to them? And would I see any change in them?

The great moment arrived, one of the greatest in my life. We arrived at New Street Station to great cheers and excitement. Gathering my kit together as quickly as possible, I hurried along the platform looking eagerly to see if anyone had come to meet me. Any friends I had travelled with were soon left behind as I spotted my mother and girlfriend joyfully coming my way, waving for my attention. Words did not come easy to any of us, as we met we flung our arms around one another. On the spot quite quickly was a Birmingham newspaper photographer. He asked my name and address and that of my sweetheart, and then took our photos. Next morning our photo was in the newspaper, minus my mother, much to her disappointment. A car was hired to take us from the station back to Old Hill and home to an enormous welcome from neighbours who had put up flags and bunting. A special large sign had the message "Welcome Home, Jack." I was home at last, to meet the rest of the family and a great reunion party.

I had sailed 35,000 miles, travelled hundreds of miles on land and about 700 miles by air, all I wanted to do now was to settle down and wait for my demob. My mother cooked a rice pudding for me for my first dinner at home, which amused the rest of my family, knowing that rice had been, for the last three and a half years, our daily main food supply. Most of the Far East prisoners came back home looking thinner and undernourished, nearly everyone had some injury to health or body, and all were noticeably yellow. We had to fill in a form to state what illnesses or other disabilities we had suffered. I received a small pension and was classed as disabled for some time. Then, after a while, I was sent for reassessment at Wolverhampton and declared no longer eligible for a disablement pension. To my disgust it was my own panel doctor who was the assessor.

For the time spent on active service during the four years up to our return to England in October 1945, we were granted six months leave. We had pay warrants sent to us to cash at the Post Office. A lump sum was sent for the period up to our release as prisoners, and from when we were taken prisoners. This army pay was paid only at the same rate as we received before capture. The rate of pay for the forces during those three and a half years had risen sharply for those fortunate enough not to have our bad luck. We therefore feel cheated by the Government for that pay freeze, which in the first place was caused by a dreadful disaster of sending us on a one-sided impossible task.

The six month's leave meant that we would have to stay in the army for that period at least, and we had already served six years, all of which, of course, was compulsory. It was quite a slice out of life, at the most important time, and I felt it was not possible to achieve what I would have wished.

The most important thing on my mind then was to get married to my sweetheart who had so lovingly awaited my return. It was just a few weeks after, that I proposed. She accepted, and the marriage was arranged for the Twenty Second of December. My mother, unaware of our plan to marry, began to make plans for the best Christmas ever. I had to say "Sorry Mother, but we are going to get married three days before." In one way my mother was disappointed, but also she was quite happy with our decision to marry. She was going to lose a son so quickly, but she was gaining a lovely daughter-in-law. So, as planned, we married on the Twenty Second, I in my uniform, and so were my best man and friends. Food and clothes rationing were still in force, so we had to scrounge coupons from relatives.

The wedding took place at the Methodist Church in Old Hill that we had attended for many years. The reception was held in the adjoining Sunday School room. It was difficult to get a photographer so quickly after the war. The ones we knew were still in the forces. We did get a semi-professional who was quite eager to do the photo's. He took many photo's in and outside the church, but afterwards he disappeared unnoticed when we moved into the reception room. Whilst everyone was seated, and engrossed in the proceedings, up popped a face at a very high window. It was the photographer who had been locked out. He was frantically waving and indicating to be let in. Someone let the frustrated man in to continue taking photo's, after receiving our apologies. The black and white photo's of the wedding turned out to be dark, dull and most disappointing, but it couldn't be helped. We had no honeymoon, but what did I care? All I wanted was to be with my wife and family. Travelling anywhere again was farthest from my mind. We decided to live together at her home with her Aunt Lil, where we stayed for twelve years. In three days it was Christmas, which was another great celebration, the one I had waited for: the first Christmas with my family for six years.

In the New Year, my thoughts turned to my future and what employment I should seek. The army pay allowed me time to think, but I had to make an effort. To adjust back to civilian life was not easy, and being married I had a responsibility. I paid a visit to my old employers to meet some of my old workmates. I was told that at least one had been killed. There were changes there: as well as the joinery shop, there was a motor body shop. I wasn't sure if it was what I wanted to do.

Very soon in the year, a letter came offering a place at a rehabilitation centre for service men in the armed forces, to go for interviews to help us find our future employment with the appropriate course of study. The centre was near to Coventry so that meant staying at the centre during the week, and going home weekends. Although it was a wrench to live away from home again, I decided it was worth a try and went. The interviews and talks followed, I told them what I would like to do, which was to become a teacher in woodwork. I carried on with that in mind for a while, coming home at weekends. My age then was almost twenty eight, so the thought crossed my mind that if I had to go to college for another few years I would be over thirty before I could settle. The thought of being away from Mary again dampened my spirits, so I left. I felt sure I could get my old job back again. At the first opportunity, I paid a visit to the old firm, where the foreman in the new body shop said he would like me to work for him. I saw the employer who was pleased to see me and have me working for him again. It was arranged for me to start after I was demobbed. Mary was working, so we could manage, with my pay from the army as well.

I had never had six months so easy before in my life. I was able to relax and get back to fitness, doing a few jobs around the house and gardening. Home cooking was suiting me fine, when only a few months before it was dreadful maggoty rice and colourless, vegetable boiled water.

I met up with some old army friends and they were settling down too. My Best Man at my wedding had made plans to build his own house. We were the lucky ones; other friends fought to survive and died, some with disease, others through lack of strength of mind or body. The most pressing thought on my mind was to get demobbed and start back to work.

The instruction for my demob came for me to go to a depot in Hereford. My sister Iris was a chauffeur for her employer, she told him that I had to go to Hereford for my demob and he gave her permission to use the work's car to take me, so I would have no problem getting there.

With my sister driving, my wife Mary and I were able to enjoy the ride in the country on a lovely spring day. I was one of many there that day to get demobbed, but it didn't take too long. The officer found my record and made out the certificate to say that from that day: the nineteenth of April 1946, I was transferred to Army Reserve Class Z(T), which meant I was a civilian again unless another emergency arose. All my army clothes and kit were handed in, and then I was fitted with a blue striped demob suit. I emerged like a man leaving jail, a happy man to a happy wife and sister.

The return journey was marred when quite suddenly; just as we thought the car ride was perfect, the car spluttered and came to a halt. It wouldn't restart; the petrol gauge told us we were out of petrol. Quite undignified, I in my brand new demob suit, and Mary, had to push the car to a nearby garage for petrol. The car was no further trouble as we continued back home safely. Unknown to my sister at that time, there had been a reserve tank of petrol, which only needed a switch to be moved to on, to enable us to reach home trouble free. The hidden switch was disclosed to my sister when she told her employer about the misfortune, much to her embarrassment.

After Whitsuntide I commenced work. The job was to machine assemble, fit and cover wooden framing to complete a mobile ice-cream van, from a drawing. The end product was different from my former work because it involved working with metal fittings and aluminium panels. I worked with the foreman, a former work-mate, doing these purpose made van and lorry bodies, which I found interesting. Later on as the business developed, we had a long contract to do cabs and bodies, and mount and finish them on their chassis, for Guy Motors. The work was divided into sections, with two to a section, the job progressing to a finish on a piece work rate. The main thing was that I was happy at work and at home.

My mother had found happiness too, besides having me back home she had found a partner, a widower to whom she formed a close relationship. He was a very keen gardener, and helped my mother in the garden and around the house. He and I were like a real father and son very soon. I found him very kind and considerate to my mother and my sisters. In the winter nights we met at weekends often to play cards together. Whenever I went to my mothers in the summer, I was given lettuce, beetroot, in fact anything I wanted that was growing in the large garden.

It was not very surprising when my mother said that she and Arthur were going to be married. So it happened, just over six months after my wedding, my mother tied the knot, with another celebration. We were so pleased for her to find such happiness, after the hard life she had lived, and all the worry throughout the war years, and before.

In the summer of 1946, Mary, my sister Iris and I, with six of the family went on holiday together to Aberystwyth. The meals were terrible, which we thought must have come out of tins. We complained but it didn't make much difference, though we were aware that food rationing was still in force. Otherwise it was a special holiday in my memory, as it was the first holiday after the end of the war. No-one in the family had a car then, indeed not many families did have one, so we all travelled by train. It was a most picturesque journey through the countryside of Wales, as the stream train slowly weaved its way from station to station.

We had lots of fun together on the beach in beautiful sunny weather. One day we went to Borth beach, and while we were enjoying ourselves, splashing about in the sea in our costumes we were attracted to an unforgettable sight. Mary had moved away to where a youth was propelling himself along on a rubber dinghy. Apparently, he asked her if she would like to try it. She needed no encouragement, and quickly accepted the challenge. As she attempted to scramble aboard, a big wave rolled in to up-end the dinghy and somersault Mary. I knew she couldn't swim, so for a few anxious moments I watched to see Mary surface, laughing happily, having enjoyed the thrill of the somersault. I was quite relieved to see no harm was done.

To finish off the year of celebrations of my homecoming, a small coach load of family and friends spent Christmas at Blackpool. We took our own cases of drinks with us to ensure a wonderful time, although my intake of alcoholic drinks was, and still is, very little.

By this time I had settled down well to the totally different lifestyle of the previous few years. Time had been an important factor in the process of slow healing of mind and body. Another ingredient was keeping busy and enjoying my work, both at my job and at home. I turned my hand to many trades for the first time in my life. Besides woodwork, I interested myself in electrical jobs, painting and decorating, clock repairs, in fact anything to improve the home. It was also the start of me becoming a keen gardener. With the help of books from the local library and magazines, my general knowledge improved, and so did my happiness.

I felt fitter again, thanks to the other ingredient in the rebuilding process, and the most important: the love and attention from my wonderful wife, who cooked good nourishing meals. My gratitude also goes to the help and kindness of her Aunt Lil, with whom we lived so happily together. She was as good as a mother to me.

In the spring of 1947 we were thrilled to get confirmation that our first baby was on the way. On September the fourth a baby girl added to the happy family, born at home, we named her Hazel.

Our second baby was born unbelievably on Christmas Day 1948 in a nearby nursing home. We chose Carol to be an appropriate name.

They both grew up together and attended the same schools, and as a family we went out often at weekends on picnics in the countryside, especially when we had our first car in 1952. Their childhood seemed to pass so quickly, with lots of happy memories at home and on holidays.

They made us very proud parents when they studied well and both went to college to become teachers.

There are lots of stories which could be told of the years following their birth to the present day, but that is another story, which may be told by them one day. I am sure they could make it just as interesting. Who knows what interesting things could take place in the twenty-first century.

Epilogue