Along Devonshire's cliff-hung coast, between Plymouth and Brixham, 3,000 Britons, ousted from their seaside homes by the invasion, began to move back to villages and farms.
They had been moved out last November. Farmers grumbled, drove cows and horses inland. Grannies whimpered, packed their shabby, precious gewgaws in cardboard cartons, rode away triumphantly in limousines provided by the Government. Vicars did their vicarish best to spread cheer, dismantled stained glass windows with leaden hands. Then U.S. troops moved in, practiced landings with tanks under live shells. Those Americans are in Normandy now....
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