大象传媒

The following except is written by my father, Peter Anning, from Torquay in Devon. Dad was born in 1928 and experienced the war as a young man, just entering the world of adulthood. He has written several accounts of his experiences and impressions as he was growing up in Torquay, showing that every region of the country was affected, even if the physical impact on the environs was not as dramatic as some of the other areas of the UK.

Earlier raids I witnessed were two FW 190s flying in a southerly direction. Suddenly, one of the planes was hit by AA fire. It zoomed upwards for a distance and then turned in reverse direction and crashed onto Torre Abbey Sands.

On Easter Monday 1941 (?), I had just come up Salisbury Avenue with a Welsh friend, Gwyn Davies, who used to visit on holiday to stay with relatives who lived in the first cul de sac. As we neared No. 25 we heard the machine gun fire and the siren going off. Looking back down the road we could see several ME109s flying in very low. One targeted the gasometer in Hele and put several holes in it but they were gone as quickly as they had come. Afterwards, I saw firemen on the gasometer with their hoses, only a few feet away from the burning holes.

Another time I was delivering papers, I believe on a Sunday, in the Watcombe estate and I had had to collect money from one house in Starpitten Grove. As someone answered the door, the same sort of attack started. I was left on the doorstep until somebody remembered I was there, then a voice said 鈥淐ome in here boy.鈥� I didn鈥檛 need a second invitation and dived into their shelter with them.

On 7th September 1942 I started work with the Post Office at Paignton office as a boy messenger, partly due to not knowing what the future held because the war was dragging on and partly because my best pal, Dick, was already out to work at Sifans; I wanted to be the same. I was released from the Grammar school after the princely sum of 拢5 was paid; quite a lot of money in those days 鈥� probably 2 weeks wages for Dad. I cycled to Paignton each day, cycled all day at work and then home again, so my trousers were always being re-seated. My first pay packet was 11 shillings; I鈥檇 been earning more delivering papers. The older boys were bully boys and practised punching the junior boy 鈥� which, of course, was me for a short time. I was glad when a new junior was taken on. One of the most scary memories of working at Paignton was delivering a telegram to Paignton Zoo on a late winter evening. When I got to the entrance, someone in the kiosk said 鈥淭ake it along to the cafe, boy鈥�. This apparently was the normal procedure and the gate was opened to allow access for me and my bike. The noises which I could hear, from the different animals each side of the lane as I cycled along in the dark, with only a glow from my shielded cycle light, were very, very frightening to this young lad of 14.

Another fright I remember well was when I was cycling home to Torquay one night after 7pm and was stopped by special police at Preston gas works and asked what I was doing out. I was told there was a curfew on that night as there was an exercise being carried out; Army v. Home Guard. Nobody told me! It was very dark and of course there were no street lights at that time. When I carried on, past Torquay station and into Avenue Road, I was suddenly, without warning, silently surrounded by men of the regular arm. A revolver was pushed in my ribs and a truncheon was held over my head. Again I was questioned as to my reason for being out and was eventually allowed to ride on, still shaking!

I applied to transfer to Torquay office and left Paignton in October 1943. During the Spring of 1944, Torquay was overflowing with American soldiers and sailors who were training for the D-Day landings. There was a camp at Shiphay and a huge one at Heathfield. One day my friend Dick found out that the Yanks were having an exhibition of boxing at Plainmoor. He was daft about boxing, being a member of the local Appollo club. We walked into the ground without being stopped by anyone and thoroughly enjoyed the show. A ring was set up in the middle of the football ground and the highlight of the afternoon was an exhibition by Joe Louis, and another black man called Sugar Ray something or other. Then at work I learned that the Yanks had taken over an hotel, Princess, just up from the Imperial and that a telegram was to be delivered for Sgt Joe Barrow -who was of course Joe Louis himself.

On D-Day itself, I was taking a Civil Service exam at the Art school, just up from the Head office. When the exam finished we came out into bright sunshine and saw crowds of people gathered together, talking and laughing and were soon told the wonderful news. The town, which had been filled with Yanks, was suddenly empty again.

The war dragged on for another 11 months before VE day. Some of the telegraph boys celebrated by raiding the stores room, tearing up as many of the PO forms they could lay hands on and taking them to the roof of the building then throwing them over the top whilst cheering madly. I was just on my way out of the building with a delivery when this happened and watched the paper cascading down. I felt sorry for the two road sweepers who had just swept both sides of Fleet St and were just at the bottom of Union St. They looked back in amazement at the paper floating down. The boys responsible were asked for their reasons for the misdemeanour by way of a PO form P18 and they just wrote 鈥淰E Day鈥� on the form and sent it back. No further action was taken against them.

Street parties were held to celebrate VE day but with the shortage of food, with no extra rations, they were very sparse affairs. The ration for an adult was:

Per week
Meat 4oz
Butter 2oz
Cheese 2oz
Margarine 4oz
Cooking fat 4oz
Milk 3 pints
Sugar 8oz
Preserves 1lb every 2 months
Tea 2oz
Eggs 1 every week (if available)
Sweets 12oz each 4 weeks

Everybody had to queue for practically everything. Word got around when a shop received a supply of goods and people would wait ages to get served. Cigarettes were always in short supply and what鈥檚 more you had to take what there was. Sometimes the cigarettes were of an unknown brand and terrible things to smoke. One day, Mr Parker, newsagent in Hele, for whom John and I delivered morning and evening papers, received two boxes of Cadbury chocolate bars which hadn鈥檛 been seen for ages. Being on the spot as it were, John and I soon produced our sweet coupons and bought a bar each.

There was a song which became very popular at the time sung by Bing Crosby and others called 鈥淵ou are my sunshine鈥�. It was very catchy and, as was the way, the words soon became altered to fit the situation in the country. It became:

You are my sunshine, my twenty woodbines
My box of matches, my pint of beer
Lord Woolton* told me to eat bananas
But bananas, they don鈥檛 grow here

(*Minister of Food)

Sarah Anning concludes: I loved reading Dad鈥檚 diary of memories about the decisions that were made during wartime; the question mark over the future and the severity of the rationing are still elements which my generation can barely comprehend. Further stories of Peter Anning鈥檚 experiences as a schoolboy are also available.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.