Our unit had, four days previously to the war ending in Europe, been held up on the South Bank of the river Po, because all bridges had been destroyed by enemy action. Our R.E. Squadron was working flat out to get a pontoon bridge across the river, which was in full flood, due to heavy rains and snow melting on the nearby mountains. Once we got across the river we pushed on after the Jerries and reached Mestre, a town near Venice, where we stayed for the night.

After the evening meal, permission was given for most of the Unit to visit Venice. Word came through over the radio that Peace had been declared, as most of us had left the camp area. The heavens around us were filled with rockets and star shells from ships already in the Docks at Venice. Less than 15 minutes had passed from leaving camp when an soldier on a motorbike caught up with us and said that three N.C.O.s had been killed back at the camp.

It turned out that a shell fired by one of the ships in the harbour had exploded on a high-tension electricity cable, bringing it down, falling across some of the Unit vehicles. The lads who had stayed behind were killed instantly. When we reached the camp area, which was by then lit up by searchlights, efforts were being made to drag the cables off the trucks so that the Medical Officer could give some sort of treatment to the lads that the cables had missed.

I was detailed to go back to Company H.Q. to inform them what had happened, and also to inform the brother of one of the lads who had died.

V.E. Night might have been a happy occasion for some, but for our lads it was the worst night we had experienced during the last three and a half years. I must also add that one of the lads who died that night had transferred from an Infantry unit to the C.M.P. in Algiers. He had taken part in most battles from El Alamein to Medene and had suffered hardly a scratch, only to die when the war had been finished in Europe only a few hours.

When Victory was announced in Europe I was serving in a cruiser, HMS Bermuda. We were spending a few days leave in Sydney. Being Watch Ashore, my oppo and I were staying at the British Services Centre where, for a shilling  you could get a bed or a palliasse for the night. We were going back aboard and were confronted by a host of girls who were linked arm in arm across the street. Fortunately for us there were two sailors a few yards in front of us and they were asked to join the chain. The sailors argued that they were returning to their ship. The next minute they were surrounded by screaming girls and two pairs of trousers were seen flying through the air. They had been debagged.

Discretion being the better part of valour we both joined in with the festivities. Fortunately we were able to escape later and return to our ship without getting stoppage of leave for being late. I never found out who those sailors were, but they have my thanks for sparing my blushes.  

Looking back through the Archives, at extracts from a diary kept by platoon colleagues I find that on the 8th May, when the enemy finally surrendered, I was stationed in an empty aircraft factory in the small town of Sirksrade, to the east of Hanover, after crossing the Elbe on the 2nd May.

My unit, 80 Company, RASC was concerned with the supply and transport of 5 British Infantry Division, and for a few days previously had been transporting British ex P.O.W's to Calais, and also captured enemy troops to P.O.W. cages further back.

We celebrated the occasion with bully beef and biscuits and a rum issue of one teaspoonful per man (which was the first we had received since the previous winter in Italy). I remember that we had to convoy many miles to the last Base Supply Depot to replace the depleted stocks of food, petrol and ammo needed to keep the Division moving.

Subsequently, on June 8th we moved to a village east of Magdeburg, but had to evacuate this and move back to Brunswick as the Russians moved in to take over. I was stationed near Brunswick, a small village involving coal depot until March 1946, when the longed for day of demob arrived. 

On V.E.Day I didn't get quite as much chance to celebrate as many other people. A few days before, my unit had moved from Italy and across France from Marseilles by rail in cattle trucks, and were setting up a Depot in Brussels. We were told that we would get home leave, and one man would go every three days. I had to toss for second place - and I won!

 On V.E. Day itself I was given my Movement Instructions for 9 days home leave, my first since early 1941. But on that day my Unit had to move across Brussels, therefore I spent part of the day helping with the move and then handing in some of my kit before Unit transport took me at 8.00 pm to Schaerbeek Station for an overnight train to Calais.  

The ship, which sailed at 12.15 pm was very crowded, much singing, some Belgian beer, and everyone was happy. On arrival at Dover we had been given forms to fill in for sending a telegram home. But there was a terrific queue, and someone cried "this train is for Stockport and Manchester, and its going now". So I fought my way on to it, got a seat and took the telegram home with me.

 I arrived at Stockport in the late afternoon on 9th May only to find that there was no transport of any kind from the station to take me to Cheadle Hulme. I can only assume that everyone including taxi drivers were still celebrating, or suffering the after effects of the day before. I set off to walk, a distance of about six miles, and as I reached Lowfield Road I met two ladies who felt sorry for me, and gave me kind words and a cup of tea to help me on my way.

 The last time I had been home was 10th April 1941, so my mother was rather surprised to see me, and yelled "Its Harry", which caused my Dad to get out of the bath rather faster than usual. I suppose getting home for the first time in over four years did make V.E. Day and V.E. Day plus 1 something for me to celebrate after all. 

I left England again at the end of April 1945, after having previously served on a Hunt Class destroyer in the Mediterranean Fleet during the Desert and Italian campaigns in support of the Eighth Army and Allied Forces in Italy. This was my second ship, HMS Olna, a Fleet Oiler bound for the Pacific. Therefore I was at sea when the news came through about Victory in Europe on May 8th, eleven days after sailing. Not much chance to celebrate then, although I seem to remember we spliced the main brace with a double issue of rum. Celebrations came later at our first port of call in the Pacific, being the Philippines.

After operations with the British Pacific Fleet and Allied ships right up to the Japanese surrender, we returned to the U.K. I was finally demobbed on 23rd April 1946.

In the Italian winter of 1944-45 I was with 573 Field Company, Devon and Cornwall Royal Engineers. We were part of 10 Corps but were working with the Polish Corps on the Adriatic side of Italy.

In early 1945 we were ordered to move across to Leghorn on the West coast of the country. We boarded an L.C.T. (Landing Craft, Tank) and sailed for Marseilles. On arrival we were met by Army personnel armed with D.D.T. Insecticide Guns, which were pushed into the back and front of our trousers and shirts. We were covered in D.D.T. and were told to push off on our transport. The reason given was that there had been a Typhus epidemic in Italy, although we had been given three injections previously.

We travelled on through France, Belgium and Holland into Germany and stopped in some place of which the name now escapes me, but it was not far from Oldenburg where we moved to later. However, VE Day came along whilst we were at this unknown place near Oldenburg. There was nothing there, and by that I mean there was no wine or beer. Consequently, on VE night we had nothing to celebrate with, we didn't even get an extra cup of tea.

However, sometime later at Oldenburg we completed our four and a half years overseas, and so by the time VI Day came along I was at home in my native town of Accrington, and the celebrations their were very good. But now, you can never recapture the atmosphere of those days, of Victory and of coming home again.

I was stationed at 70 B.S.D., R.A.S.C. El Kirsh by the side of the Suez Canal, Ismaile, and was taken ill with Sandfly Fever just a couple of days before VE Day. I was transferred to a military hospital at El Ballah, near Port Said.

I was pretty rough at the time, feeling cold and sweating at the same time. I think it was during the second day that we heard that the war was over in Europe, and celebrations began to take place. Beer was found from somewhere and everyone was to have two bottles each, except me. Too ill to have any, but, during the day something happened which no one could remember ever happening at any time whilst in Egypt. It was a terrible thunder and lightning rainstorm in early May.

The ward I was in had a concrete floor, with a concrete wall about four feet high dug in the sand, and a large marquee type of tent above. The rain was so heavy that within ten minutes it was soon almost two feet deep to the level of the beds. Panic stations! But when the storm ended the water began to go down, almost as fast as it came up, leaving a thickness of about four to five inches of sand on the floor. All able-bodied personnel were ordered to clear it away which took about two hours.

A week or so later I returned to camp at El Kirsh and rejoined my unit. Yet, funnily enough when VJ Day arrived the same thing happened again. This time an open sports day had been arranged but had to be cancelled because of the wet conditions. However we had 'Housey, Housey' sessions in the NAAFI instead that Day, and I did get my two bottles of beer this time

In May 1945 I was serving with A.P.D.U. (Air Publications Distribution Unit) attached to H. Q. 2nd T.A.F. (Tactical Air Force) in Brussels. During the early days of May there had been much speculation that the war was about to end. We had been told we could have three days off when it happened. Finally, at 7 pm on the 7th May, one of the girls dashed into the bedroom saying there had just been a newsflash, and the war in Europe was over. At that moment we all seemed to feel very homesick.

 Our Barracks were at the top of a hill, and our bedroom on the top floor - 100 steps up - so we had a magnificent view. That evening the whole city was lit up by rockets, flares and verey lights. British, American and Belgium flags appeared all over the place and there were great crowds in the street, shouting, singing and laughing together with the noise from car horns and the clanking trams - there were even some people standing and dancing on top of the trams. It was all a wonderful sight that I shall never forget.

On VE Day I was up early and went to a Service commencing at 9.30 am at Wesley House where I had many friends. It was a 'Thanksgiving for Victory' Service, and a very touching ceremony it was too, and it started with the English, American and Belgian National Anthems. This day we had waited for over six years, had finally arrived.

Sat next to me was a middle aged lady, and as we got up to leave she asked if I would care to go for lunch. I said I would be delighted and met her at 11.20 am. We hurried to catch her husband at his office so that we could go in his car instead of the tram. To my surprise there was a very large car with a chauffeur. I was formally introduced to her husband and we set off, with our host pointing out places of interest including Brussels University.

After about 15 minutes we turned through large gates and went up a long well-kept drive. The house was quite large and comfortably furnished. On the left was the dining room, and on the right was the drawing room. In the centre was a large room with french windows which opened on to the terrace with a beautiful view. Mme Tournay took me round the grounds which included a sunken garden with flowers of all colours. One interesting thing was an old tombstone which I was told was a 16th century one from one of their farms. It was walked on now, and was beginning to wear. We went next to the kitchen garden where there were lovely lilies-of-the valley, and the paths were so well raked it seemed a pity to walk on them. The rest of the grounds were woodlands, with a river flowing through the bottom. To wander through there was indeed a haven of peace.

Our host gave me the latest English papers they had, including the London Illustrated and the Picture Post; and sitting there one couldn't help feeling at peace with the world. I was called in for lunch and was introduced to Madame Tournay's niece, and to Monsieur Tourney's nurse - he was an invalid although it wasn't obvious. The beauty of the dining room took one's breath away. As the guest I sat on Madame's right. The polished table, silver and glassware shone, and the sun pouring through the window added lustre to an already beautiful scene. Looking through the window one could see quite a long way through a break in the trees to where the river flowed.

We were waited on by a butler resplendent in dinner jacket - perfect in every detail, even to the wearing of white gloves. A very enjoyable meal! After lunch we retired to the drawing room where we sat and talked for a time. Then Madame went for a rest, and her husband had to go to the University. Their niece and I talked and then wandered round the garden again. I left around 3.00 pm, with an armful of tulips and lilies-of-the-valley. They were all very concerned as to whether I had enjoyed myself, and was 1 sure I didn't regret coming? - and would I come again. I needn't say what my answers were. They were exceptionally nice people, speaking very good English, and their every thought had been for my welfare.

I arrived back at the Barracks at about 4.30 pm. Had a clean up and then met an airman friend of mine at about 7.00 pm. The trams were few and far between. As we waited for one, an American in a jeep asked if we wanted a lift to the centre of town. We climbed aboard and held on - and we needed to - it was certainly a miracle that we ever stepped out again! He tore through the streets like a madman. However, we lived and then wandered through the main streets, or rather we followed the crowds. Everywhere was crowded and if the crowd turned a corner, you did. It was impossible to go against it. We nipped into the Malcolm Club for a drink, and from there walked to the Pont Pont Namur and sat in a cafe there, drinking and talking etc. Got back to Barracks about 3.00 am; and so ended my VE Day. I'd had a wonderful time.

We POWs had to work, and at this particular time I was attached to a party who were working in the centre of the City on a roof, salvaging tiles from a bombed-out building. News of the progress of the war managed to get through to us via the German Guards who were now getting more friendly each day, from civilians, foreign workers and from newspapers specially printed for dropping by the Allied bombers during air raids. The RAF version was called 'The Night Raider' We were marched each day to our place of work, a matter of about four or five miles each way, and would return to the school to stay in the building until the next day. At the weekend we were kept in there from lunch time Saturday until Monday morning.

Air raids were continually hitting the City, and at night time we would be escorted down into the cellars under the school. During the day we sheltered in the same air raid shelters in the City as the German civilians. The very last day that we were taken to work, there was a raid by the Free French Air Force. We knew it was the French because it was the practice of the Germans to have a radio in the larger shelters, and Munich Radio used to broadcast details of the movement of the raiding aircraft, and warn when they were heading for the City. We heard three bombs drop, each one closer and louder until the fourth one of the stick dropped, thankfully, at the other side of the shelter, damaging the building above us. We were so lucky that it was not a direct hit.

The German Guards decided to take it into their own hands to call it a day, and marched us back to the school. On the way we saw people hanging white sheets out of their windows which the guards told us was in response to instructions by the Allies to indicate that they had surrendered. As we proceeded along the main road towards the school, suddenly we saw fighter aircraft diving and machine gunning over that area. There was no air-raid warning siren, I don't suppose there would be time. We thought that perhaps the target was the East Station and we hoped that the school had not been hit. However, when we finally got back all was well. The guards told us that we would not be going to work again and that we should stay in the building until we were liberated.

The next day we heard that all except two of the guards had gone. The two remaining guards, who were Austrian, said that they would stay until the Americans came and would we speak up on their behalf. I don't know what they expected would happen to them.

The next day, 30th April, I went up on to the top floor of the school. This had always been forbidden and we were always confined to our own floor. There was a small tower in the roof and from there I could see the red flashes from the tanks as they advanced in to the City. Small arms fire could be heard coming from the city centre and 1 felt a feeling of anxious elation, for liberation would soon be at hand.

Suddenly one of the guards, along with our German speaking British Camp Leader, came rushing along the corridors of the building shouting and indicating for us to come away from the windows. Instinctively, from a distance I looked out, to see a company of the dreaded German SS Troops marching on to the open space in front of the school. We had always wondered what might happen as liberation came near, for we had heard that as the German Army retreated they would possibly take POWs with them as hostages in the hope of getting the best terms of surrender. Was this going to happen now? The SS were capable of anything. The guards were also afraid for their lives if they tried to protect us. Standing well back from the windows we watched them as they marched from the road into the compound in front of the school. They looked tired as if they had marched hard for a good distance, and they sank to the ground to rest. I saw some of them drinking from their water bottles and eating some food. All the time we were being advised by our Camp Leader to keep as quiet as possible, for if they had suspected that the building was occupied by us they would most certainly have come in if only for our Red Cross food.

After what seemed hours but could only have been about 30 minutes we saw them get up and prepare to leave. Several of them glanced up at the building but their suspicions were not aroused, and I expect that they were in a hurry to get moving before the advancing tanks caught up with them. They departed along the road towards Ingolstadt and we all heaved a sigh of relief as they disappeared out of sight. It had been a very anxious time.

That evening at about 7.30 pm the Camp Leader, who had been out to do a reconnaissance, returned to say that he had established contact with the American forces who's tanks were only now quarter of a mile down the road. He had told them about the school and they advised him that we should stay where we were until they arrived in the morning. Freedom was hopefully only a few hours away, so near and yet so far.

Little sleep was possible, but I must have dozed off, because I was suddenly awakened by shouting and noise in the room. I sat up, and then realised that what I could hear was, "The Yanks are here". Everyone was rushing about, trying to get down the stairs as quickly as possible to greet our liberators. Most of us had not changed out of our daytime clothes over the past three days because of the uncertainty of the situation. It was about 5.30 am, and gentle flakes of fine snow were fluttering down, it was bitter cold and it was the 1st May 1945. There they were, spread out along the road, these wonderful looking American tanks of the US Seventh Army with their beaming occupants waving back to us, obviously delighted to have helped. Some of them jumped down from their tanks and began chatting to us.

They told us that they had also liberated the Dachau concentration camp a few miles NW of Munich, and that it had sickened them. We were handed a few bottles of Cognac and were told that we would soon receive sufficient American 'K' Rations to supply all our needs. It was great to be talking to people who were on our side at last. Some of the Yanks pulled up wooden railings in front of the houses near by, poured on petrol and soon had a blazing warm fire going on the footpath. All these things I vividly remember, for this day, the 1st of May, was my VE Day. Three days later, the 4th, it was my 22nd birthday.