My father and I were the owners of a small bus and coach hire business which we operated in conjunction with another public service which had progressed from horse and carriage days to that present time, early 1939, when we received a letter from the Minister of Transport. In the event of war breaking out in Europe we should come under orders from a new department called the Ministry of War Transport, at Nottingham.

Around that time we disposed of our Brimington Common to Chesterfield bus service, which my father had operated since 1923, to the Chesterfield Corporation Transport Department, but we were still operating a Brimington Common to Staveley Works daily, which my father commenced after the Great War.

So, at the outbreak of war, we received orders from the Minister of War Transport to maintain all essential services, and we later received orders to convey Chesterfield Football Club on all away matches. This we accepted, having no say.

I met with Mr Shentall, Oliver Thompson and a few other people concerned with the club and was given a list of fixtures. On the first Saturday morning I drew on to the open yard at Saltergate (this is now walled in) and, having helped to load the large hampers in the back of the coach, we set off for Yorkshire.

There was relief that I wouldn't need a map: at the outbreak of war every sign post in the country was cut down or uprooted and if you did not know the way you had to stop and ask. Even then you had to find a policeman: all over the country were large signs saying "The enemy is listening," Don't talk," and so nobody usually wanted to tell you anything.

This didn't happen often to me: I commenced driving charabancs with solid rubber tyres in 1923 and knew my way around the country by then. Once in a town, though, I'd ask for help. I recall stopping in Halifax to ask the way and a policeman wanted to know everything; identity cards, "Where are you from?" and an inspector was called. He spoke to Mr Shentall and ordered me to take the Chesterfield FC notice out of the front window and called on a couple of passers-by to get on the coach and show me the way. I'd often stop and ask for help on the way to a ground and would always find someone who needed a lift, who could show me the way back to the main road afterwards.

Reading this, I'm sure it sounds easy, but in foggy weather, or with snow and ice it was a worrying business. We used to leave early - about 9 am or so - since there were no floodlights, and we couldn't have used them if there were. The match had to be finished by dusk so we often did not have a lot of time to get there, but we were always on time, never once in five years being late for a match.

In the early days when we went to Doncaster we were told not to leave any of value in the dressing rooms, since someone had broken in during the home match before, and stolen all the money and valuables belonging to the away team. After that I found myself loaded with all the money, watches and valuables belonging to the players, until the end of the war!

Although I could sit in the stand if I wanted to, I usually liked to sit in the little observation post (ie the dugout) with Oliver Thompson. I could boast that I'd seen every Chesterfield wartime away game, but that would not strictly be true, since I would often drift off to sleep and miss some of it. At half time it was coffee with Oliver and the players while he told them how to get on with the game, then back out for the second half.

We played Grimsby at Grimsby only once, and had a Spitfire patrol flying over during the game, since German fighters used to come over and strafe the town with machine gun fire. After that we played Grimsby at Scunthorpe.

While waiting for the players to shower and dress after the game I was often invited for tea in a nearby house. I have had bacon and eggs, meat etc, and that was nice because these people were giving me their rations. I liked the Yorkshire people; always good natured, always singing at matches and offering me cigarettes. I sincerely hope that if this little letter is published a lot of the younger element will take notice and remember that rowdyism won't help your team to win.

When heading for home it would get quite dark. I knew the roads and with a little light from my lamps I could find the way. It wasn't so easy some times: maps were useless in fog and smog, which was common at the time, and we often had the roads to ourselves since private cars were not allowed to use petrol. I found it best to keep moving and hope for the best but I still had a card to play.

On my dashboard was a compass and learned how to use it from attending ATC (Air Training Corps) meetings where I lectured in mechanics. By using the compass we always usually managed to find the right road. If we had won the lads sang all the way home, which helped to keep me awake; I would usually have put in several nights on "siren duty" during the week and would be tired by Saturday.

It was amazing how the old 32-seat Leyland used to go but it was not unusual to be stopped by military road-block, with guns loaded. Right through the war stories of German parachutists being dropped were told.

A Leyland Tiger of the sort possibly used by the Wettons to ferry the lads about. We are trying to source a photo of one in Wetton colours: can you help?

Throughout all our journeys we always arrived all right, as I spent every Friday inspecting the bus over the pit, greasing and checking it. Once, I discovered a broken spring. I was in real trouble, since you needed at least two men and some heavy tools to take it off. Our other buses were out on regular services and I couldn't borrow one from anywhere so I had to get new spring leaves made. I knew Staveley Works would be sure to help; when the day shift finished at 4.30 pm I was inundated with offers. They came up from the works, took the spring off and back to the works, through military patrols, where they made new leaves, and fitted them. All this help was forthcoming because they all knew that I needed the coach to take Chesterfield on an away match. I was grateful to everyone for their help - not least the armed guard at the works entrance, that let us in and out again.

In 1943 the Minister of War Transport granted permission for us to take Chesterfield's second team out on away matches, to places like Featherstone, Pontefract and a few others. When I turned up at the ground in charge of the hampers containing the players' gear was a little chap who many will remember as Tommy the Singing Waiter. He got the name by waiting on at the Rutland Arms and also somewhere in Newbold. I'll never forget how well he looked after the boots and shirts, but I found myself still loaded with all the money and watches!

(Note - this individual was Tommy Meads, the locally-born former Tottenham player, who later kept The Wheatsheaf in Newbold.)

Like this small literary effort of mine everything must come to an end, but before I finished with the club at the end of the war Mr Shentall asked me to continue taking them out, which I had to refuse because it would clash with our private and excursion operations. After a lot of handshakes and thanks I was told to turn up at the ground any time I wanted to see the match but we were always so busy that I haven't been to see a home match since the day I said "Cheerio." Chesterfield Football Club were a great team then and will still be the greatest, with your help to cheer and support them.

I am indebted to the Borough Museum Service for this account, which Mr A. Wetton provided to them during the 1980s.