The Douglas C-47’s engine rumbled on in its comfortingly familiar way as it waited on the landing strip. The long line of ex-prisoners of war weaved and hobbled towards it, their rising spirits giving them the energy they needed to forget about how ill and starving they were, for the troop carrier brought the promise of home and loved ones – of freedom, and the end of their ordeal.

There were six crew including the pilot, and the medical orderlies amongst them moved from man to man to assess their injuries and state of health in general before writing down notes, and nodding cheerfully. Martin and Roger slept for most of the journey, waking only when the C-47 landed with a soft bump and the engines screamed as the brakes were applied.

‘Welcome home, guys,’ yelled the Captain. ‘The weather’s a bit disappointing, but I guess, as Englishmen, you’re all used to rain.’

The long hours of sitting had stiffened Martin’s legs and it was a moment before he could ease the muscles enough to walk towards the open door. As he peered through the misty drizzle, his heart leapt with joy, for these were the green fields and familiar trees of home.

There was a host of American GIs to greet them and help them down the short ladder to the tarmac, where they were sprayed thoroughly with some sort of disinfectant to counteract the vermin they carried in their clothes and hair. Patriotic music was playing over a tannoy and they were told there was food and drink aplenty waiting for them in the reception hut.

Martin and Roger stood arm in arm, weaving slightly as they lifted their faces to the soft rain, breathing in the smell of aviation fuel and England as they held on to one another for balance, and gazed at the scenery they’d thought they’d never see again. Then, as one, they got painfully down on their knees and pressed their faces into the wet grass by the side of the runway, giving thanks for their return when so many of their comrades had not made it through.

‘Actually, old chap,’ muttered Roger a moment later, ‘I don’t think I can get up again.’

‘Neither can I,’ chuckled Martin.

They both collapsed into a heap, tears of laughter mingling with the rain as the Americans looked at them askance and scratched their heads at this strange Limey behaviour – which only made them laugh even harder.

8