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The War Years in Burford by Kathleen Wain

War came and it curtailed a lot of things. Burford saw many strange uniforms. Our streets were the parking places for tanks and lorries, with soldiers marching on guard. All empty houses were commandeered to house troops as were the Old Vicarage at the bottom of the hill, the Priory, Bury Barns on the A40, and the Modern Piggeries at Signet Hill.

Most nights, my mother would leave a flask of tea or coffee for the soldiers on guard in Witney Street. It was always placed inside the front door, our door was never locked and we never missed anything.

A canteen was set up in Church House, now Warwick Hall, and this was manned by members of the local churches and other organisations.
Fund raising was also started to help the production of aircraft, war weapons, warships etc. under the slogans of 鈥淪alute the Soldiers鈥� and 鈥淲ings for Victory鈥� and the Red Cross started a 鈥淧enny a Week鈥� collection.

Food rationing was also introduced of course 鈥� with dried eggs and milk, and bananas on green ration books for the under fives. Our rations consisted of 4 ounces of bacon, 8 ounces of sugar, 2-4 ounces of tea, 4 ounces of butter, 1-3 ounces of cheese and 1/10d worth of meat. This was for one person per week.
Jam or marmalade was part of the sugar ration; bread and flour by coupons; 3 coupons for a pair of stockings (26 coupons per year for clothes).

All windows in every house had to be blacked out with heavy curtains and blankets, so that should enemy planes fly over they would have no guiding light. We were between three airfields 鈥� Rissington, Brize Norton and Windrush landing grounds.
There were two pill boxes built, one at Ten Steps (still standing) at the bottom of Cocklands Hill, the other at the top of Burford Hill on the A40 (the old road). These were manned by the Home Guard or Civil Defence.

In the High Street on the East side by the Highway Hotel were placed large tree trunks covered with barbed wire and a large metal wheel for rolling the barrier into place across the road should there be an invasion. I suppose this was to stop tanks or lorries going through.

At the beginning of the war, the evacuees came and Mother took in a lady expecting her first child in two months. She hadn鈥檛 a thing. The ends of my nighties were cut off to make baby nighties and the inside of a huge trunk was covered in muslin to make a crib. Towels were cut up to make nappies but soon after the baby was born, Mrs Lee returned to London, fed up with country life. We never heard from her and could only assume that they were perhaps killed in the Blitz.

It was on one hot summer鈥檚 night that my parents took down the black-out so that there was a little more air. They got into bed only to be wakened by the siren and of course Dad had to get dressed in the dark and off he went for police duty, When he returned home after the 鈥渁ll clear鈥� he said to my mother that he must have put on his underpants back to front as he was very uncomfortable. On undressing he found that in his hurry picked up Mother鈥檚 knickers and put them on. Thank goodness he wasn鈥檛 injured while on duty. What would anyone have thought?
We did have a few bombs dropped locally, one in a field next to where the Oxford Road houses were built after the war. a string of bombs were dropped along the Aldsworth road and two land mines were dropped at Swinbrook, one damaging the church and some houses. If you visit the church, do look at the window, which was made from all the fragments of glass collected from the bomb damage. The other fell at Hen鈥檚 Grove but didn鈥檛 explode as it was caught in the trees by its parachute. I cycled there to take my father some refreshments as he was on guard until the military arrived to defuse the mine and take it away.

Dad was a Special Inspector and to help keep up the morale he organised a police concert in which he dressed up as a woman and carried our old pigeon Sammy in a basket. He sang 鈥淢y old man said follow the van鈥�. Our pigeons were registered for war service and many times I took the containers from their legs and delivered the message to the police station. I suppose you could call it my bit of war work. I wasn鈥檛 old enough to join up and as we had lost our boys from the garage to war
service, I had to stay at home to help run the garage. Although not everyone had petrol we still had to serve essential people and it was nothing to turn out 50 gallons by hand when Bradwell Grove hospital was being built. As there were so few private cars because of petrol rationing, a few businessmen were granted hire car licences. Mr Griffin, Mr Holloway and my father were the three for Burford and, as the nearest railway station was five miles away and the nearest maternity hospital was at Chipping Norton, they were always well booked. In one maternity case that dad had, the lady had left things a bit late and the baby arrived in the car before they got to the hospital and because it was a little girl, she was called Victoria after my father鈥檚 name Vick.

It was almost impossible to have a telephone connected in wartime. As my father was in business he already had a telephone but the undertaker had not. He asked dad if he could use our number for his wartime work for the Air Ministry. This meant running to fetch Mr Francis when the call was for him, or taking the details regarding RAF personnel who had crash - landed and coffins were required. My mother would never take the message as she could not bear the thought of the loss of a young life.

Our Fire Brigade was wonderful. No bleepers to call them out to fires, but Jimmy Hicks used to blow a bugle at the corner of High Street, Witney Street and anywhere else where he thought he could contact a fireman. By the time he had run around the town you can well imagine what the bugle sounded like on the last call.
The engine was housed under the Tolsey. Our firemen were called to help in London during the Blitz. They had a fire service van pulling a trailer pump and this was found to be most useful in fighting fires and pumping water to various areas. Back in Burford, the Fire Station was manned by Margaret Hicks (now Margaret Bean), the telephonist, and she would make tea and coffee for the lads whenever they returned from a fire.

At the time when all these big cities were being bombed, my mother thought it a good idea that we should have our beds brought downstairs into the sitting room. This was done but after a few months and a lot of careful thinking it was decided that perhaps to sleep downstairs was not such a good idea; after all, if a bomb dropped we would have the whole house fall on us, so back upstairs we went.

Our one entertainment was the Picture House, which was at the Falkland Hall. Wilf Barrett used to man the projector with help from Bert Winfield whose wife would take the ticket money: 1/3d if you went upstairs and 9d downstairs at the back with 6d for the first two front rows. We did have plush seats half way down the hall. As there was only one projector, every time the film ran out it had to be changed for the next reel, which caused some disturbance such as 鈥渉urry up Bert鈥� or other comment. Much later another projector came on the scene. Also it was quite a common thing for one to leave by the exit door to go next door and purchase 2 pennyworth of chips and take them back into the hall. There was nothing like those fish and chips. Wrapped in newspaper and really lovely.
The Fire service dances were the highlight of the year and held as near to New Year鈥檚 Eve as possible at the Assembly Hall in Lawrence Lane. Every business, farmer and landlord for miles around provided the lovely prizes 鈥� pheasants, bottles of all sorts, food and anything that could be raffled. The older people used to come and sit in the balcony at the back of the hall, just for the pleasure of being there to watch the dancers.

The girls had G.F.S. (Girls鈥� Friendly Society) at Miss Cheatle鈥檚 house. This was such a good thing. We used to make all sorts of gifts to sell for wartime charity. The last twenty minutes were for games and prayers. On the landing of the house stood a lovely rocking horse. The miles we travelled on it was nobody鈥檚 business. I went to quite a few G.F.S. Youth Camps. One was at Cropredy for youth club members and it was during the week when Coventry was bombed. The German planes went right over the house where we were staying but being young it certainly didn鈥檛 register with us what was going on or the devastation it was causing.

In 1944, an American tank went over Burford Bridge into the river. It had to be towed down-stream and through Dr Cheatle鈥檚 garden and out into the High Street.
In the chapel at the Priory there is a commemorative plaque to the officers and men who went from there to Arnhem. I remember the distress of a young New Zealand pilot when his brother, also a pilot, was reported missing at Arnhem. They were two young men my mother had 鈥渁dopted鈥� and of course he came for comfort and understanding. It was not long before he heard that all was well and his brother safe.

In 1945, the war came to an end. A huge bonfire was lit and fireworks let off on the Recreation Ground. The fireworks had been confiscated at the beginning of the war and held at the Police Station for nearly five years. We danced in the streets with Ron Taylor playing the accordion.

1946, the war over, we were now trying to adjust to peace although rationing was still with us and likely to be for some time yet. March brought a new life to Burford. The American hospital at Bradwell Grove was closed down and the advance party of the Royal Naval School of Music arrived from Scarborough to establish itself as a new centre for training and management. After all the austerity of the war years, to see a band marching down the High Street for Church Parade at the Parish Church was a sight worth seeing.

The old wartime canteen had long since closed and we felt we should do something to entertain the young musicians. A dance was organised at the Church House (now Warwick Hall) in May and a band was booked from the R.N.S.M. If I remember rightly it was a five piece band and the fee was 拢2 per player with refreshments provided. As rationing was very tight, the public could not be catered for, but during the interval, a young bandsman, who had come to the dance, came to me (by the way I was only 18) to see if there was any hope of a sandwich. I said I would see what was left after the band had gone back to playing. After the dance, who should be waiting to take me home but that young musician. I was quite concerned as I had the takings on me. I remember wondering what I would do if I was attacked. I wasn鈥檛, and that musician has been my sweetheart and companion for 56 years.

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