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It was VE Day -- 8 May 1945. I was 19, a first class stoker on HMS Colombo, pulling into Gibralter to refuel, returning from a two year stint in Sicily, Italy and Egypt. We were told that a dozen of us -- one in fifty or so, I think -- would be allowed ashore. I was picked.

I wandered through the streets of the city -- I remember it was very hot, and very quiet. There was hardly anybody about. I came across a greengrocer, and distinctly remember I was able to buy a BALE of bananas. This was just unheard of at the time! They were green in colour. I then remember that a number of press photographers appeared in the area -- I suppose it was something to do with the war ending -- I have never been able to track those photos down.

When I got home I gave the fruit to my brother and sisters -- they were in their teens at the time, although the youngest was six. They didn't know how to peel them! For me, I was just glad the war was all over. One thing made me sad, though. The spirit of comradeship, that had been part of our lives for six years, vanished -- almost overnight.

THIS STORY WAS SUBMITTED TO THE PEOPLE'S WAR WEBSITE BY JOHN YOUNG OF ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ SOUTH EAST TODAY, WITH THE AUTHOR'S PERMISSION. HE FULLY UNDERSTANDS THE SITE'S TERMS AND CONDITIONS.

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