There were very few ships so soon after the war, and we called at all the small places along the coast. At one place we were allowed ashore and, while walking along the road, I heard someone calling, “Captain, Captain Broome” (my maiden name). I stopped and recognised the caller as one of the girls from the children’s home in Bandung. What a surprise encounter in such an out of the way place! I was so glad I was wearing my uniform hat – it was that which had caught her attention. She had probably escaped there when Makassar was being bombed. We chatted for a short while, and she was obviously cheered by the encounter. We continued our journey onward to Makassar, where we were able to stay overnight at the Red Shield Club. The next day, whilst walking along the waterfront, we were again hailed this time by two sailors. One of them said he was a Salvationist, and would like us to come aboard his ship and meet other members of the crew who were also Salvationists. This, of course, we gladly did. We were shown into a lounge and given very sweet strong tea – how delicious it tasted! We had prayer together and then had to leave to catch our own ship. By this time I was getting anxious about my husband, who was running a temperature and feeling quite unwell. With all the bustle of disembarking in Jakarta and being taken to an expatriate camp, he became worse. I phoned our old friends, Major and Mrs. Muskee, and asked if it would be possible for us to come to the home where they were managers. Somehow the Major managed to get us away from the Camp and kindly took us to a chalet in the grounds of the home. How thankful we were for this, as next door lived a very kind doctor who at once attended Niels, and also Francis, who had somehow caught dysentery. I had a bad leg, with the knee swelling painfully; in fact, we were all in bad shape and very grateful for this period of rest and recuperation. By now, our appointment had come through. We were to take charge of Government-sponsored Beggars’ Colony – but, of course, that was out of the question as things were. After a few weeks, Niels recovered sufficiently to be able to fly to Bandung. There the officers met him and he was later told that we could go home as soon as a passage could be arranged. More waiting – but, finally, we were bound for Amsterdam on an old troop ship. I slept down in the hold with the children and hundreds of others and it was dreadfully hot during the first week. This resulted in my leg swelling again, and, mercifully, I was moved nearer the top deck, as it was almost impossible for me to climb the stairs from the bottom hold. The ship’s crew were mainly students from Australia, together with the trained sailors, and they were most kind to us. The food was plentiful and we were given vitamin pills every time we entered the dining room. Washing was the chief problem, as the soap would not lather in the salt water and fresh water could only be spared for drinking. However, everyone was in a happy mood and there was no shortage of stories to exchange! Most of the passengers were fit survivors from the camps – those who were ill had already been taken home.
We were told we were to go ashore at Suez and be given warm clothes and suitable footwear, so we looked forward to this very much. On landing, we were conducted to a huge building, the entrance hall of which was set out as a café. On the side were banks of cakes, sweets and cool drinks. We four sat at a table and gazed in wonderment at such a sight; we had not ever seen sweets for years – and here were mounds of them for the taking. The children hesitated at first, and it was sometime before we each took a plate and filled it. From there we went through the well-organised procedure for fitting us all out with clothing. It was a marvellous gesture from the generous Dutch people. Of course, it was not easy to get exact fittings for the children, so, for the rest of the journey I was kept busy altering their garments.
At last the morning came when we saw, in the distance, the white cliffs of Dover – but, alas, we were bound for Amsterdam! As we neared the harbour, we heard the strains of band music, and soon we were alongside, straining to see all that was going on. The passengers all came over to that side of the ship, and there was not a dry eye among us. Even now, as I write, I cannot recall that scene without emotion. Parents, children, sweethearts, all calling out to each other. The band led us in a thanksgiving song, but many of us just couldn’t sing. I looked upon my little family, and was deeply thankful to God for our preservation through all the trials of the last four years.
On landing, we were given refreshments and, later we were accommodated with Salvation Army Officers and made most welcome. Major and Mrs Claeys had also suffered much privation during the war, and their little girl had died as a result.
We had some very pleasant days in Amsterdam. How good it was to walk about in the city and mingle with the crowds and visit the famous museums! I had not yet received any letters from my family. When I had written home, giving our Amsterdam address, it wasn’t long before the long looked-for letter arrived. What a joy to know that all my brothers and sisters had survived the war, were well, and eagerly awaited our arrival! It wasn’t long after this that we found ourselves once again in Southampton, after ten long years. An Army Officer met us and put us on the train for Waterloo. How marvellous, for me, especially, to see the English countryside again, and hear my own language spoken on every side! A great welcome awaited us in London; then a taxi took us to my sister’s at Kew. My mother was also living with her at the time, and I remember how overjoyed I was to see the tea-table laid out with the best china, and the smiling faces all round – I was HOME! There was so much news to catch up with; the evening passed in a flash. How thankful we were to the Lord for His goodness through all the trials of the past years.