Ivor Davies who is 105 and lives in Modbury recounts his memories in his own words as we remember VE Day.
It was early May 1945 when our troop ship The Empire Pride left Naples for home.
Our naval escort met us at Gibraltar to take us up the Atlantic to Britain, worries about lurking U boats once again in our minds.
As we sighted land at the tip of Cornwall, a great cheer went up accompanied by the sight of hundreds of sun helmets thrown overboard bobbing about in the ship’s wake. It was four years since we had left these shores, round the Cape of Good Hope, up to Egypt, through the Western desert, across to Sicily and up to Northern Italy.
Arriving in the river Mersey we were held at anchor in mid- stream for 24 hours, much to the frustration of my pal Fitzgerald who lived in nearby Wallasey and could plainly see his home street. We finally disembarked at the pier-head in front of Liverpool’s Liver Building watched by a few surly dockers. We were quickly taken to Blackpool and our worn muddy khaki battle dress was exchanged for smart new blue RAF uniforms.
This was V.E. Day and Blackpool that night was given over to one enormous town party. We were feted in every bar, treated to more drinks than we could manage and had a wild party in a hotel which was the quarters of a government office evacuated from London. It was staffed by lots of pretty young female civil servants. We never got back to our designated billet but finished up at 5.30 in the morning dossing in a tram shelter on the promenade.
That afternoon we were given our travel warrants and departed our various ways. After what seemed to be an endless train journey I reached Swansea, saddened to see the town centre still derelict after the 1941 air raids. On reaching my village, Bishopston, with my kit- bag and back-pack I got up and pressed the bell to stop the bus but was reprimanded by the conductress who said that it was not a stopping place to which I replied that when I was last home buses would stop anywhere on request. I had to travel on a little further and carry my kit a few hundred yards back to my house.
Going up the familiar tarmac drive to my house was a strange but elated feeling and I gave up a little mental prayer of thanks that I had come home safely.
