大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Rachel Irven, a volunteer from Three Counties Action, on behalf of Peter Halliday and has been added to the site with Peter鈥檚 permission. Peter fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

In 1940 I was about 10 and had been brought up very near to Biggen Hill. I was an only child and my father was in the RAF. He was stationed at Grantham and in October of 1940 my mother and I travelled to stay near her father, Grandad Cramphorn, who lived in Abbotsley near St Neots. As my two aunts, Rose and Nell were staying at Grandad鈥檚 house, my mother and I found lodgings with Mr and Mrs Underwood nearby. This had the advantage that there was also room for my father to stay when he was on leave. Mr and Mrs Underwood had a huge heavily laden walnut tree in.the garden and it was one of my jobs to collect the fallen nuts everyday. We stayed there for about a year before going back to Biggen Hill.
My Grandfather lived in the first house in the village , on the road from St Neots. He was a respected figure in the small village, having been a Metropolitan Policeman and the first thing he said to me was, 鈥渄on鈥檛 run on the gravel path, you will throw up gravel onto the lawn and ruin the lawn or the mower.鈥� I also had to make sure I didn鈥檛 shout near the chickens as this would put them 鈥榦ff lay鈥�. Grandfather had made a shelter in the cupboard under the stairs, quite a large space which was lined with sacks of chicken feed and flour so that there was only enough room for 3 people to squeeze in.
One night, when my father was on leave with us, there were several huge explosions. Mr Underwood was in the Home Guard and he went out with his rifle (leaving the bullets behind where they were 鈥� shining from much polishing on the top of the cupboard). Mrs Underwood began to make a cup of tea and dad (as he was in uniform) went out to find out what was happening. After a while he came back and said to mum 鈥淚 think you may be needed at your father鈥檚 house.鈥�
One of the bombs had fallen in the road, about 20 yards from my Grandfather鈥檚 home and there was a big crater. My 2 aunts had heard the whistle of the bomb, and rushed for their shelter under the stairs, my grandfather slightly slower was bringing up the rear. In the rush the door was slammed and his thumb was caught in the door.
When my mum arrived he was in agony and there was blood everywhere. Grandfather was rushed to the hospital in St Neots - the first war casualty in Abbotsley.
I went out to take a look at the treasured lawn, which was covered in pieces of shrapnel and flints. I was sent to feed the chickens and found that both the chicken houses had had their roofs blown half off. Inside there were a few very anxious looking chickens and a fair few dead ones on the floor 鈥� about half the chickens were dead and the rest certainly had been put 鈥榦ff lay鈥� for a while.
Grandad later came back with a huge 鈥榙olly鈥� on his thumb. I can remember him sitting by the range at home nursing his huge white thumb. No one could go too near, for fear of hurting him and none of us was allowed to talk about his injury. The news of his injury was especially NOT to get back to the local pub, where Grandfather was held in a certain esteem!
I remember that we had a good chicken dinner the following Sunday, I鈥檓 not sure if Grandad realised that he was eating one of his own chickens!

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