WORLD War II soldier Doug Mayman unearthed forgotten diaries while rummaging in the loft of his Aughton home.
They brought back vivid memories of his wartime days from more than 60 years ago.
His initial thought was that no-one would be interested in them and he gave them to his two daughters Merron Mitchell and Joy Murphy to have a look at.
Joy said: “As soon as I started to read them, I was enthralled. My dad is now 84, but was only 19 when he started to keep a diary of his war experiences. Every day he would make an entry, however difficult it was.
“Sometimes he would be writing under a tank after days fighting, always with a fountain pen and whenever he could with illustrations.
“Given the high mortality rate of his regiment, I think it was a way of trying to leave something behind in case of his death but fortunately he survived, as did the diaries.”
Doug, of Prescot Road, was born in Skipton, Yorkshire, on October 29, 1923 to father Albert, a canal transport agent originally of farming stock. His mother Kerry, died of tuberculosis at the age of 25, when Doug was only three.
For the next 11 years his father and his father’s sister, Jessie, brought him up. In 1937 his father remarried and had two children Dennis and Sylvia with his new wife Rose.
At the age of 11, Doug won a scholarship to Ermysted’s Grammar School, Skipton. He was diligent student and also enjoyed rugby and tennis.
He left school in July 1939, at the age of 13, and he set about seeking work. He got a job as a wages clerk for Rycroft and Hartley Ltd, a local textiles company, and two months later war was declared.
He then found more lucrative employment in a Royal Ordnance Factory in nearby Steeton, which manufactured aircraft shells.
Doug also attended the local Methodist chapel and met his future wife Dorothy at the Methodist Youth Club when they were both 17.
Doug was conscripted into the army on September 3, 1942 and started his diaries on November 5, 1943 continuing until his return home from Germany on leave on April 21, 1945.
On opening them, the first thing that strikes you, is the handwriting done in ink, the style uniformly elegant and clear.
His diaries tell the day-to-day stories of life on the frontline, from bloody battles and bereavements to interludes of boredom, where the war almost passed him by.
In an entry on Christmas Day, 1943, Doug tells of the delight of his siblings but his thoughts quickly turn back to the war.
“Dennis and Sylvia came dashing into my bedroom to tell what Santa had brought them...So this is Christmas Day 1943: the anniversary of the birth of Christ, bringing peace on earth and goodwill to all men.
“How ironic that sounds now when man is fighting for his very existence. Following the news that several thousand men have been slaughtered by the Nazis... The question is on everyone’s lips, ‘will this be our last war-time Christmas?’ In spite of rationing, we have a terrific Christmas dinner of chicken, duck and pork. Boy, oh boy, was it good.”
Doug was demobbed from the army in 1946, and joined his old boss Stanley Mason and started studying for his accountancy finals.
A few years later his daughters were born.
Doug is now a retired finance director and has been married for 62 years and has four grandchildren and four great-grandchildren with another due next year.
Extracts from Doug's Diary
DOUG goes into vivid description and detail in his diaries about his life in the army, but one of the times he seems most happiest is at Christmas. In the following extracts, Doug tells how good it is to be back home in Skipton with Dorothy in 1943.
Friday, December 24
Feeling more civilised inside my blue suit, I called for Dorothy and we caught the 11.14am train to Leeds. It’s grand to have the good old ‘civvies’ on again, to walk down the street with one hand in a pocket, and turn your nose up at officers.
They give a peculiar feeling of freedom and a devil-may-care attitude after the drab solemnity of khaki uniforms...
After the usual lunch at the Lonsdale, we spent the afternoon chasing gramophone records. I bought Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No. 1: opus 23 by Arthur Sanford and Orchestra.
“ just had time to buy Dorothy a dress as a Christmas present before we caught the return train. Finished off the day with supper chez moi. It is still difficult to realise it is Christmas.
Saturday, December 25
Christmas Day. Dennis and Sylvia came dashing into my bedroom to tell what Santa had brought them.
They are both thrilled about it all and Dennis describes all that he has got in minute detail, including an old ginger biscuit that slipped in somewhere. I am forced to smile...
Sunday, December 26.
Oblivion. What lovely sweet oblivion. Then I hear the gate click and casually look at my watch. It’s 11am. Good grief! I promised to meet Dorothy at 10.45am.
I leap out of bed as if I had been stung in a very tender spot by a huge wasp. The occasion calls for a blitzkrieg wash and shave and I am downstairs within twenty minutes.
Grandma is just getting up when we visit her at Burnside Avenue. A huge dinner at home puts us out of action for the afternoon.
Monday, December 27
Cinema matinee, followed by tea at Aunty Jessie’s with my family and my Aunty Madge, Uncle Cecil and cousin Brian. Then it’s off to the pictures again.
I always did like film shows, but we often go for want of anything better to do. My father, a voluntary fireman, was on duty at the fire station, so Dorothy and I kept the home fires burning.
Tuesday, December 28
Dorothy is back at work. I was very fortunate to get hold of a radiogram attachment at Woods for six pounds, nineteen shillings and six pence.
“In the afternoon, I visited my fellow jive fanatic and guitarist, Bob Horner, at 34 Princess Drive and we had a record jive session, playing nothing but real solid stuff. Dorothy and I had seen all the pictures in Skipton so we solved the problem by going to Keighley.
Thursday, December 30
My friend Eric Wiggan, on leave from the RAF, called after dinner and we had a very pleasant afternoon reminiscing. We recalled the old jive days of our band the New Rhythmists. Perhaps we shall jive after the war. Duck for tea. Dorothy and I stayed in, so that mother and father could go to the pictures.
Friday, December 31
No one would have thought Dorothy was violently ill as we walked to the station to catch the 11.14am to Bradford. But she was, or so her boss at work thought. After a moderate lunch at Collinson’s, we looked round unsuccessfully for a portable radio, then after tea at the Co-op Cafe, I bought Dorothy a maroon coloured dress and we returned to catch the second house at the Regal Cinema.
Saturday, January 1, 1944
The clock strikes midnight chasing away the old year. 1943 is a thing of the past, it is now 1944. As Dorothy and I sat there in front of a roaring fire, our thoughts turned, as no doubt did the thoughts of many others, to whether this New Year would bring peace and the return of our loved ones.
I don’t suppose this year will see me out of the army, but it should at least see the collapse of Germany, if not Japan. Who can tell what this newborn year will bring?
*To buy a copy of Doug’s book ‘Led Soldiers: The Second World War Diaries of a Royal Hussar’ email him at dougmayman@talktalk.net
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