大象传媒

One sunny afternoon in late summer 1940 when I came home from school, my mother decided to take us to the shops just over a mile from home. I was 10 and my little sister Jean was 4.

Unlike most London children we had not been evacuated at the start of the war because New Malden, where we lived, was not considered to be a danger zone. It was a suburban area, south-west of London, but at that time it was still part of the County of Surrey.

We had almost reached the High Street when the air-raid siren sounded. My mother told me to take Jean on my little bike and get home as quickly as possible. Jean sat on the saddle, I stood on the pedals and went as fast as my legs would go. Our mother ran and walked behind. We had just reached home and fallen into the shelter in the garden when the bombs fell. I can still remember how frightened I was, and can recall the screaming soundand the explosions as the bombs came down. Jean and I were alone at first and we were relieved when Mother joined us. After the bombs there was an eerie silence and then I heard the birds singing.

These were the first bombs in the London area and they marked the beginning of the 'blitz'. We heard afterwards that the people around us when the siren sounded had run to the brick-built shelter near the railway station and that it had been hit, killing many. As a train pulled into the station a German plane had dived and machine-gunned passengers as they got off. A young man, who lived a few doors away from us, was one of these passengers, he escaped unhurt but gave us a first-hand account of the scene. A newspaper-seller at the entrance to the station was killed. Thanks to my mother's homing instinct we were safe.

After that we became used to the nightly bombings and to sleeping in the Anderson shelter in the garden. The Anderson shelter was a corrugated iron, curved structure, embedded a few feet into the ground and covered with earth. Our neighbours, who had refused to have a shelter, because it would have spoiled their garden, asked if they could share ours. So it was very crowded. My mother refused to stay in the shelter and she regularly returned to the house. I remember how anxious I was for her safety and kept calling her.

As well as the noise of the bombs, we could hear the sound of anti-aircraft guns on vehicles driven around the roads surrounding us. Later, my father told me that these guns were not very effective and were used to boost civilian morale. Bombs fell on the roads adjacent to us and each morning we could survey new damage, but our road was unscathed.

And there were daytime raids too. Every child had to take his/her gas mask to school. When the sirens sounded each class was taken in orderly files to the brick shelters which had been built in the playing field. These shelters were dark and dank, with no lights, and bench seats running down the length of the building on each side. Education was impossible and sometimes we were in there for hours, long after the end of the school day, waiting for the 'all clear' to sound. My recollection is that were were all (about 40 children) quiet and well-behaved. Our teacher, Miss Dyer, read stories to us by the light of a torch. I clearly remember 'Wind in the Willows' and 'Pinocchio'.

As winter set in, our Anderson shelter became damp and too cold to use and we were reduced to sitting under the dining table when the raids were on.

It is amazing how children adapt to changed circumstances. It seemed normal that death could strike any day. I remember praying, 'Please God, don't let me die before Tuesday because I'm going to tea with Sonia'.

Then Jean and I were sent to stay with distant relatives in Cheltenham, but that only lasted for a few weeks because our aunt caught diphtheria and was admitted to hospital.

When I was eleven I joined the Girl Guides.
Each company took part in 'Warship Week' when we had to collect money to buy more ships. Our company collected the largest amount and we were presented to the
Mayor and congratulated on our efforts. Beforehand, all the youth organisations - Scouts, Guides, Boys Brigade, Girls Life Brigade, Air Training Corps etc. - marched through the High Street, flags and banners flying. I'm not sure what it was all about but I suppose it was meant to arouse patriotic fervour.

Our father was in a 'reserved occupation' - he was an inspector in the Air Ministry - but although he didn't go to war, he had to live away from home. We only saw him briefly or during the summer holidays when we joined him in the country, camping by the Thames.

The blitz stopped and life went on. There were no ice-creams, no sweets, no fruit that had to be imported such as bananas and oranges, and limited food of all kinds.

Then in 1944 came the doodle-bugs - the pilotless planes that arrived overhead and suddenly went silent. Then we knew that they were about to drop and we had to run for cover if possible. This time, we were in an evacuation zone and we were herded on to trains, with no idea of where we were going. As we drove through Wimbledon Station a bomb had just fallen and there was smoke and wreckage all round. Luckily, our line was not damaged. The journey was slow and long; at that time civilian trains had to make way for military trains and often had to wait in sidings. At last, we reached our destination, Chesterfield in Derbyshire. We were taken in busses to a school and made to stand in the middle of the assembly hall whilst the prospective hosts sat around the sides choosing a child or children that they would take. It was a horrible experience. Jean and I had three different billets during the course of our stay in Chesterfield, none of them happy. The only good aspect of our time there, so far as I was concerned, was the school, which I really enjoyed. They were my best schooldays, with a dedicated teacher and satisfying lessons.

We returned to our home just before the war in Europe ended. Our house had been slightly damaged, mainly shattered windows and roof-tiles, but this was soon put right.

On VE Day there was an enormous street party, everyone joined in and some people danced. Normally, this was a very staid, sober road, so it was an unusual occasion.

PATRICIA SCHAMA nee HACKER.

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