A Voyage Remembered

Here is the fourth post from memories of residents here; the first two involved evacuees and the third a lady who was called up.

This one covers a slightly later period shortly after the War was over.

I was born in Belgium and grew up there in a loving family. Then in 1939 the Germans invaded Belgium and I lived through five years of Nazi occupation. That was hard. Thankfully the Allied troops fought for us, and liberated us; for us that meant that our town had British and Canadian soldiers living among us for some time.

My elder sister and I were invited to the officers’ ball and that is where I met a certain Captain. We were married in my home town in April 1946 when we knew that Jack’s demob was imminent. I was now not a single woman and a Belgian subject but a married woman, a British Scottish subject who was looking forward to starting life in Bonnie Scotland. It is that journey from Brussels to Scotland that I would like to remember for you.

I had never been beyond Belgium’s borders, never been on a boat journey. Here was I now in the station in Brussels, saying goodbye to my family to start my journey to Scotland. I was alone (my husband’s unit was in France) to get on this military night train to Calais. Only three other passengers were civilian Belgians, the rest were army personnel. Arrived in Calais I was guided to the officers’ mess for breakfast. I heard a call over the loudspeaker for someone to go to the office – yes it was me! At last Jack and I were now together for the rest of the journey.

After a calm sea crossing we landed in Dover. This was it; I was standing on British soil. I was very much aware that this was for me the beginning of a new life in a country with another language that I would have to learn. In Dover we took a train to York. It was late when we arrived there. Now, where to sleep? I was tired and apprehensive but happy. We tried the Station Hotel (very posh!) but no vacancies. It was the time of “The Races” and it would be difficult to get a room anywhere we were told. Jack phoned B&B addresses but no luck. A taxi took us to the police station; surely they would have a solution to our predicament. No they could not help.

This now was when my dear husband took things into his own hands. He phoned the military hospital in York, and thanks to him being an R.A.M.C. doctor got the OK for us, on condition that we were out by 8.00 am as inspection started then. So at last we had a room with two single beds to rest our weary heads. Yes, I spent my first night in Great Britain in a military hospital! After early breakfast we left to start the last leg of our journey.

I was taken to York station to wait there for Jack to return. He had to report to some military authorities to go through some formalities. I felt very strange, alone in that big, noisy station. I heard only English spoken around me. Even young children could speak it, how clever they were! When Jack turned up we got our train to Scotland. I was told to throw some coins out of the window going over that famous Forth Bridge for good luck.

What a mixture of events and situations, but especially of feelings I had experienced in those couple of days. I was dazed at times but I survived them without shedding a single tear. We were met by car by Jack’s sister. Here I was in Scotland, apprehensive but happy, and ready to be introduced to Jack’s family as their son’s wife!

And yes, I could say “It’s a braw, bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht”!