goals  and having sheer determination coupled with a ruthless will power always enables one to win through. So we lingered on in Sydney for the few days  remaining.. We visited cinemas, restaurants and did  all the normal things one does in a large city  savouring every precious moment and constantly compared our luxury and freedom now, which was still such a novelty, with the harsh years in the camp. The contrast was so truly wonderful  that we still could not believe our eyes, and we still thought how a couple of months previously we were powerless, incarcerated with every chance of being killed before the war ended.  About half way through our stay though there was a big race meeting at the Randwyck Racecourse. The Australians are quite mad and totally crazy when it comes to horse racing which is a national obsession. I was amazed to see not only the crowded course, which one expected, but above all the numbers of men who had climbed  up ladders  onto the sloping  corrugated iron roof  of the grandstand, well oiled  with copious  beer bottles in hand, to have a free view of the action! They were all accepted as part of the scene and no attempt was made to turn them away  by anyone! Nowhere   else during the course of my life have I ever seen a sight quite like that race again! Soon we were ready to depart on the 11th October barely two weeks after our arrival. Once more I was glad to be on board yet another ship, with the comforting feel of the throb of her engines as we pulled out of the grand setting of  Sydney Harbour  through the Heads   and leave  its clothes hanger bridge far behind.  As we hit the heavy swell of the Pacific Ocean and I  walked around the deck getting my balance and sea legs again, I felt secure that at least on this liner there was no more fear of torpedoes, shell fire, or any enemy raiders. The war was over and a new  and exciting  life beckoned ahead. The  “Otranto” was still in the usual battleship grey  war colours, and we had a rather non- descript but comfortable cabin. The total number of passengers aboard  was just under 200 almost all of whom were diggers getting a lift from Sydney to Perth. From Perth to Bombay there were to be only about 50 of us,  when 3,500 servicemen from the Indian Armies  were due to join her  to be squashed into every nook, to be transported and “demobbed” in England.  The trip was uneventful with the usual rough sea in the Australian Bight, but nothing like as severe as the terrible storm that we had undergone in 1942. The Australian diggers in their heavy army overcoats to keep out the cold wind, spent most of their time drinking endless beers and playing “two up” on the decks with constant betting on “chasing the lady” i.e  the queen. Eventually after a fairly dull  trip across the Indian Ocean mostly under grey skies we finally arrived in Bombay expecting to meet Father. We were terribly disappointed to only receive a telegram to say that the Dakota plane that he had been due to fly on, had crashed killing all on board and that instead he was coming by train,  and would arrive  two days later.  In the meantime we were installed in a transit camp in the  senior  officers mess on Malabar Hill in the most exclusive part of Bombay. The building had belonged to a wealthy Parsee Industrialist who had in his generosity lent it of his own free will for the duration of the War for the use of Senior officers. The building was truly palatial  and fantastic with colonnades  and arches, beautiful ornamental pools as well as a lovely swimming pool. It commanded a spectacular view from its height over the other buildings, to the rocky palm fringed coast of the Indian Ocean with the  surf and  waves breaking along on the distant rocks. After the tediously long  journey through the typical damp squalor  of the rest of the city, the  contrast could not have been more acute.  Two days later at midday Father at last arrived  to hug, greet  and kiss us,  full of apologies for his delay. He was still very shaken at seeing the fatal crash  of the Dakota with no survivors  explode in flames before his very eyes. But now it was all emotion at seeing us again  both at last back safe and well  after our long ordeal, dying to hear at first hand all the details of what we had undergone and the experiences that we had endured. It was impossible to recount it all quickly apart from the vaguest outlines, there was so much to tell that we could have talked volumes. He asked after my health because originally I had gone to Australia with Mother after being bedridden for a year all during 1940 with T.B. I told him that I was well and that in spite of all the harsh conditions I had never had a relapse. We learnt that Hugh had just been de-mobilised out of the Indian Army, Probyn’s Horse, an armoured regiment, and

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