Willie and Babs Haswell were not supposed to fall in love.

It was 1945 in Germany, he was a Scottish soldier and she was the beautiful German girl who had stolen his heart.

She had a smile, he said, that made his knees tremble.

"I saw her and just knew immediately that she was the one for me," said Willie, who didn't speak a word of German.

"I'm not sure what she thought of me, though. I was supposed to be the enemy."

Babs was the first woman he had seen out there. He was stationed at a hotel along the border, just days after the Allies had announced their victory.

The war was officially over, the German army was retreating, but in Europe it was still very dangerous.

Pockets of Nazi resistance were attempting to kill as many Allied soldiers as they could before they were captured.

A group of them had found Willie but they hadn't counted on the woman who was falling in love with him just as much as he was with her.

"Later that day she overheard German men in the hotel plotting to kill me," said Willie.

"They were fanatics, Nazis, and it was common at the time for incidents like that to happen. Even as the German army retreated, many would plant bombs and kill as many as they could as they left.

"But Babs came to me and warned me. She told me what they had planned. She saved my life."

Willie died on June 26 this year. He had lived for 96 years and had spent 71 of those deeply in love with the woman who had saved his life.

His beloved wife, who he always referred to as "my Babs", had been with him until her death two years ago, a year after they lost their son, William.

Right up until they parted, he had never liked to leave her side.

A few years ago, ahead of Remembrance Day in 2012, Willie met STV to share their story.

"I brought her back to Edinburgh with me," he said.

"It wasn't allowed but I married her anyway when she agreed to have me."

In those days, the authorities frowned upon marriage to the "enemy".

Their neighbours, he said, were lovely to her. The couple never suffered any animosity in Scotland.

After decades together, he said they still had a great laugh together.

"She's a wonderful lady," he said.

And every photo he showed of her, he proudly pointed her out as "my beautiful wife" in every one.

Conscripted into the Royal Air Force at the age of 19, Willie had been sent over to Germany to fight - a massive change for the young man who until the war was announced had never spent the night away from his home and his family.

Born in the Canongate in Edinburgh, he had lived in a small house with his mother and sisters. His father died when he was four.

"We were very poor then," he said. "We depended very much on charity."

Willie would get his jug of porridge from the local church before school, tuck it into his backpack when he was done, then head back to church at the end of the day to have it filled with soup for his supper.

It cost a halfpenny if he wanted a bap with it.

"We didn't like taking charity, but we had too," he said, "We were skint".

If they didn't have coal to burn, they burned old boots instead. Willie would search the buckets on the street when even that ran out.

The local police had a poor boy's fund at that time so Willie could go and get boots from them once a year when he had outgrown his own.

"They drilled holes in the soles so they couldn't be pawned, though," Willie would say, laughing.

"They were good for sliding on the pavement."

He was a "wee bit naughty" as a boy and used to nick the tatties off the grocer and heat them up over hot coals.

He was an errand boy, carrying messages, before landing a job working in the butchers.

As war broke out, he was still a teenager when he was given arms and sent off to fight.

"The first night away from home I don't mind telling you I cried," he said.

"We'd been sent out and it was all so new to me and I had no idea what was going to happen."

He still wore his Royal Air Force pin with the golden wings right into his 90s.

"These are quite rare now," he said.

"The soldiers used to give them to their sweethearts before they left. I gave mine to my mother."

His mother survived the bombing in Edinburgh during the war, even when the Germans dropped bombs on the Canongate.

Her neighbours' houses were destroyed and she had to be rescued but survived.

Willie kept pictures of her and of the young men he had fought alongside.

"None of them came home," he said. "No one I went out with came home".

Willie didn't often like to speak of the war, at least not of those who he had lost.

What mattered most about that time, he would say, is that the war brought him to Babs.

He and Babs were also well known figures to a local Edinburgh taxi firm who described Willie as a "true gentleman" and sent flowers to them for 50 years to thank them for their service.

Sometimes a small bouquet would arrive on Mother's Day - or a special delivery would pop through the door in early spring when the daffodils were in bloom.

When Willie lost Babs in 2015, it was the staff of City Cabs who sorted out a whip round to cover the cost of the taxis for the funeral - and soon after made provision for Willie to support him in the future.

They made sure he always had a free ride to the shops for his groceries if he needed it.

As Kyle Boggie, who worked for the taxi service, said at the time: "I've not been here as long as many of the others but we've all been on the receiving end of Willie's flowers.

"I'm not sure what prompts him to do it but it's a really sweet thing.

"He had got in touch when his lovely wife passed away to book taxis for the funeral and the staff wanted to do what we could to help him."

Willie also loved his history, especially of his home city, and for the last 20 years he was involved in the Living Memory Association in Edinburgh, where he would regale tales of his childhood while sipping tea, five sugars to a cup.

Members of the group described Willie as "a life force" who would be "sorely missed" - a gentleman and veteran soldier who lived independently right until the end.

"He was a very popular member here," says Miles Tubb, from the Living Memory Association.

"He sadly lost his son, William, three years ago and his beloved wife Babs two years ago.

"His meeting and courtship of Babs in Germany in 1945 is a story worthy of film.

"He was a wonderful man who lived life u ntil the end."