£25 STAR LET­TER

I re­mem­ber vividly the day dad came home from war

The Sunday Post (Newcastle) - - OPINION -

With it be­ing Re­mem­brance Sun­day, I have been look­ing back on what hap­pened to my fam­ily dur­ing the Sec­ond World War.

I was born in 1940 in Harthill and lived with my mum, gran and grandpa, Aunt Nan and my great-gran. It was quite crowded in our small home.

My dad was not on the scene. He was in the Army and was posted in York­shire when I was born.

He got a week’s leave to come and see his wife and new-born child be­fore he had to re­turn to his post.

Lit­tle did they all know I would be six be­fore he saw me again. I am now 77 and re­mem­ber the day my dad came home as if it were yes­ter­day.

We were all wait­ing on the plat­form for his train. When he ar­rived, thin and pale but smil­ing, we all hugged and then shed tears. In the taxi home, he cud­dled me and I sang to him You Are My Sun­shine.

It seemed like the whole vil­lage lined the street to wel­come us. There were cheers and everybody was de­lighted he was home at last.

I didn’t know it then, but he had been a pris­oner of war to the Ja­panese at the fall of Sin­ga­pore. He even­tu­ally ended up work­ing on the Burma rail­way and was miss­ing, be­lieved dead, for sev­eral years.

When he got home, he weighed less than six stone. The good news is he went on to make a full re­cov­ery and en­joyed a very happy life with my mum, me and my lit­tle sis­ter Joy who was born in 1949.

Anne Curle nee Weir

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