And so then, we hung about in the Far East, as I've said, for three years before we got home. And wouldn't you think when these brave boys came back home, and the troop ship moored up at Liverpool docks, wouldn't you think there'd be a crowd waiting for us to cheer, and a band to play – wouldn't you think that? There was no one there. Bugger all. It was empty and I thought that was such a disgrace. And still, to these days, I hold it against the British that they didn't do anything for those boys who had spent three years out there.
That was very bad. And when we got back, within a month, they celebrated our return by putting bread on ration. It was better in the Far East, let me tell you – it was better in Hong Kong.
And England was so run down, and run down and apparently not making much effort to get out of it, whereas in Hong Kong, everything was still going. People were starting up. You went down to the docks, guys would come in with massive baskets on their shoulders, full of toads, from God knows where, that the Chinese were going to eat. Quite different. And we could swim, of course, in Hong Kong. We did a lot of swimming from Big Wave Bay.
Back in England… oh God, it was so dreary. But what was a chap to do? Well, one thing this chap did, of course, was keeping on writing.
So, that was the end of the war.