I think that this station had been used as an American airbase during the war because I was off duty one day and was wondering around the camp when I came across an American uniform, but did not know what to do with it so I left it alone where it was. However, someone must have found it because it soon disappeared.
Norman was a sergeant at the station; he had been in the RAF since becoming a boy apprentice at RAF Cranwell. When he was 21 he was stationed in the western desert, I used to say he had been playing in the sand, but he was not amused by that.
One night he booked dinner for us both in Norwich, but I did not turn up, or the next time we had a dinner date either. I had to face him the next day in the sergeant’s mess, but he was not angry with me, so on the 3rd date I did turn up and made sure he knew I only wanted to be good friends. He accepted this and was very protective towards me.
I trusted Norman and felt safe with him, and he was like a big brother to me.
Norman was then posted, however, we managed to keep in touch, and he wrote to me almost every day.
I missed Norman but he always knew, because I kept telling him that Sal was the love of my life and he accepted that.
We eventually moved from England to live in Canada. And [then we moved] back to England again.
Throughout our married life together he always welcomed Sal into our home and Norman even drove me 1000 miles from our home in Canada during the 1960,s to see Sal in Brooklyn.
My younger sister’s husband also got on famously with Sal and when Sal visited us back in England in the 70,s.
My brother-in-law and Sal would go off happily to look for antique weapons or whatever they were interested in. I remember going to Stratford-upon-Avon with Sal looking for antiques for him to send home to New York.
After walking around Stratford all day we came back to Nottingham on a steam train and then having to walk several miles back to Hilda and Jack’s place in Aspley. Sal and I were both exhausted, but Sal never suggested stopping at a hotel or anything improper.
Sal knew how much he was loved by his English family, which was good because he lost his own parents whilst still young and an aunt bought him and his brothers up. Sal never really talked much about his family so I don’t know much about his family life. He was mainly concerned with enjoying the here and now- possibly a legacy of having to parachute into enemy territory. Nothing much matters when your life is on the line, I suppose.
Every day I thank the lord that my Sal survived the war and that he knew happiness and contentment even though he never married. He never forgot his English family and we never forgotten Sal.
When Sal died in September 1997 after his second heart attack, his niece found a photo of my sister and me in our WAAF uniforms still in his wallet.
He had kept that photo close to his heart for over 60 years for by that time he was 83 and I was 78.
We loved each other until we were parted, and I know that one day we will meet again- I have never doubted that. That will indeed be a wonderful re-union.
I feel very lucky to have met this brave American boy and to have had his love stay with me all through my life. It was the best thing that ever happened to Nottingham during those war years, seeing all those brave boys from America embracing our way of life.
I shall never forget them.
Betty Smith (Claridge)
England 2006. |
