My CP wire was received by my mother at about 12:30 p.m. on Friday October 13th 1944. My dad was driving home for lunch from the office at the time and when he got out of the car he noticed a horseshoe lying in the road. He thought it might be a good omen and when mom called out the good news of our return he was sure of it. I still have that horseshoe hanging on the wall in my workshop at home.

The next morning a Ferry Command pilot flying a Lockheed Lodestar arrived to fly us back to London. On the flight down he decided to pay a visit to his girl friend, a teacher at a school on the outskirts of Edinburgh. He made several steep turns and other aerobatics at a very low level over the school and we were all afraid that after all we had been through we had finally "bought” it. Fortunately we survived and after landing near London we were taken to a large country Estate [A] which was the centre of the British Military Intelligence. We were interrogated for over three hours about every aspect of our Norwegian escapade. [B]

One of the questions we were asked concerned whether or not the Germans knew our identity. If they did and we returned to that theatre of war (namely Europe) and any of us were captured we could then be shot as spies under the Geneva War Agreements. Although we had buried certain items of clothing such as Irwin jackets and flying caps, we thought the possibility of our identity being known was pretty remote so most of us answered "no” to that question.

After fitting us out with new uniforms we were given travel vouchers back to our squadron, but first they suggested we enjoy a weekend in London. I can't remember where the money for our weekend expenses came from but I guess it was given to us. We were told not to discuss our Norwegian adventure with anyone.

We decided to all go to the Strand Palace Hotel on the Strand for dinner because we knew that if any of the boys from the squadron were in town they would probably be at the Strand. While sitting down at the bar in the lower level we didn't see a familiar face so I thought I would take a look upstairs in the main dining area. When I walked into that area I heard a loud shout from the far corner of the room. Joe Manuel, a pilot and good friend of mine, who thought we were dead or at best P.O.W.'s in Norway had spotted me and let out a bellow. Needless to say we all had quite an evening.