The atmosphere on Southampton's docks was electric with anticipation. A crowd of eager faces, a sea of loved ones, strained for a glimpse of the returning heroes.

The Red Funnel tug tender, Calshot, was packed to the brim with 150 ex-prisoners-of-war, men who had endured the unimaginable horrors of Chinese concentration camps in the Korean War. Among them were a handful of local troops from Southampton, their faces etched with the hardships they had faced.

It was October 1953, a time of relief and jubilation.

The former POWs had arrived off the Isle of Wight aboard the 18,036-ton transport ship Empire Orwell, anchoring in Cowes Roads.

The Calshot swiftly pulled alongside, the gangway was lowered, and the men of the 1st Battalion, Gloucestershire Regiment, led by their commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel James Carne, streamed ashore.

Carne, a man of unwavering courage and leadership, would later be awarded the Victoria Cross for his extraordinary actions in Korea.

For many of these soldiers, Southampton was the port from which they had embarked on their journey to Korea three years prior.

The scene on the quayside mirrored the emotional reunions witnessed just a month earlier when another group of ex-prisoners had returned.

Men rushed into the arms of their wives and sweethearts, their faces alight with joy. They lifted their children, some of whom they were meeting for the first time, their eyes filled with wonder and love.

Mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters were embraced, tears of relief and gratitude flowing freely.

The flag-draped waiting hall became a sanctuary of reunions, filled with the murmur of heartfelt conversations and the laughter of children.

Among the returning heroes was 23-year-old Private Norman Gadd of Bevois Mansions, Portswood. A National Serviceman, he would have been a civilian two years earlier had it not been for his capture.

Norman, who had sailed with the Gloucesters in October 1950, was taken prisoner by the Chinese after the fierce battle of the Imjin River.

Despite the hardships he endured, Norman maintained a stoic demeanour.

"On the whole, they didn't treat us too badly," he told a reporter from the Daily Echo. "It wasn't too bad for you as long as you didn't try to escape. Most of the blokes got on fairly well."

Awaiting Norman on the dockside were six relatives and an Army pal. His father and mother, Mr and Mrs Walter Gadd, his sisters, Beryl and Muriel, and an uncle, Mr George Inder, beamed with pride and relief as they embraced him.

Completing Norman's welcome party was his best friend and companion throughout captivity, 22-year-old Driver Thomas Surtees of Primrose Road, Bassett. The two soldiers, captured together and sharing the same prison camp, would have returned home together had Thomas not been released a day earlier.

Another Southampton man who disembarked the Empire Orwell was Private Reg Budden of Wodehouse Road, Itchen. He was greeted by his mother, Mrs. Mercy Budden, of Victoria Street, Northam, and a nephew, Fred Barnes. Reg, a Regular Army reservist who had fought with the Wiltshire Regiment in Italy during the Second World War, was captured at the Imjin River battle and taken to the Chonsong prison camp in North Korea.

Reflecting on his experience, Reg admitted, "On the whole, the treatment of the prisoners was not too bad, but it certainly could not be described as good."

He recounted the compulsory camp lectures where English-speaking Chinese attempted to indoctrinate the prisoners with Communist propaganda. "It had no effect whatever on me," Reg declared.

"After each lecture, we had to spend time on what they called written questions. Instead of answering the questions, we used to write things like 'Joe Stalin is the heavyweight champion of the world.' For this, they would wake us up in the middle of the night and take us along for further lectures."

Reg's defiance extended beyond subversive answers. He spent three months in solitary confinement in a cramped cell for refusing to divulge the names of two prisoners who had asked some Koreans for tobacco in the village near the camp.

"The food consisted chiefly of rice, barley, and potatoes," Reg told the Daily Echo. "I was in solitary confinement on Christmas Day, 1952, and to my surprise, they did provide a decent Christmas dinner of meat, which tasted like pork, and roast potatoes."

Reg's journey home was not without incident. He initially sailed on the troopship Dunera but disembarked at Colombo with 17 other ex-prisoners who objected to the conditions on board.

They remained ashore until the Dunera departed and later joined the Empire Orwell when it called at Colombo.

After 35 days of well-deserved leave, Reg was scheduled to travel to Gloucester for demobilisation. He then planned to return to his former job as a riveter with Follands, eager to resume a normal life after the harrowing experiences of war.

The echoes of joyous reunions from the Empire Orwell's arrival were still lingering in the air when, just a few days later, Southampton found itself once again preparing to welcome home a group of Korean War veterans.

This time, the returning heroes arrived on a crisp autumn morning, their ship gliding into the harbour as a soft mist clung to the water.

Among the men disembarking, a small contingent of Southampton natives stood out, their faces bearing the marks of their ordeal, but their spirits lifted by the sight of their beloved hometown.

News of their arrival had spread like wildfire, and a welcoming committee had gathered at the docks, eager to express their gratitude and admiration.

Leading the civic reception was the mayor himself, a picture of dignified pride as he waited to greet the returning soldiers.

Among them were Private Gordon Birch, a young man from the quiet residential streets of Oxford Avenue, Sergeant John Holberton, whose family anxiously awaited his return on Portsmouth Road, and Corporal G. Thomas, a familiar face from the bustling community of Graham Road.

As they stepped onto solid ground, a wave of emotion washed over them. The cheers of the crowd, the fluttering flags, the warm embraces of loved ones – it was a moment they had dreamt of during countless lonely nights in captivity. Sergeant Holberton, known for his composure even in the face of adversity, captured the sentiment of the group with a characteristically understated remark. "The treatment we received from the Chinese could have been better in many respects," he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips. "It was like a bad dream, but now it is all over."

His words, though lighthearted, hinted at the hardships they had endured. Months of monotonous routines, meagre rations, and the constant threat of punishment had taken their toll. But they had persevered, drawing strength from their camaraderie and the hope of returning home. Now, that hope was a reality.

Private Birch, his eyes shining with unshed tears, was enveloped in a hug by his family. The familiar scent of his mother's perfume, the comforting warmth of his father's hand on his shoulder, filled him with a sense of belonging he had almost forgotten. He was home, surrounded by the love and support that would help him heal and rebuild his life.

Sergeant Holberton, despite his stoic demeanour, felt a lump form in his throat as he shook the mayor's hand and acknowledged the cheers of the crowd. The warmth of the welcome, the recognition of his sacrifice, touched him deeply. He knew that the road ahead might be challenging, but with the unwavering support of his community, he was confident he could overcome any obstacle.

Corporal Thomas, a man of action rather than words, simply nodded and smiled as he was reunited with his loved ones. The ordeal had tested his limits, but it had also revealed a hidden strength within him. He was grateful to be alive, to be back in Southampton, to have the chance to start anew.

The return of these ex-prisoners-of-war was a moment of profound significance for Southampton. Their stories of courage and endurance would be woven into the fabric of the town's history, reminding future generations of the sacrifices made in the pursuit of freedom. Southampton, in turn, embraced its heroes with open arms, offering them a safe haven and a chance to heal, to reclaim their lives, and to find peace after the storm of war.