大象传媒

I was born in late '38, just before the war started. My family lived at Grays in Essex. From my bedrooom window I could see Tilbury Docks. Of course during the war the docks were a prime target. A lot of the bombs overshot and we were living in a very vulnerable area. When I was about three years old I remember one night the air raid sirens went off. My mum and dad picked me up and we got down into the dugout in our back garden as quickly as we could. Just as we were getting settled there was a droning sound in the sky. My dad picked me up and stood in the doorway of the dugout. 'Look' he said 'that is a Doodlebug', we watched it cross the end of the terrace, cross the road and the estae opposite then the engine stopped. After a few seconds there was a muffled explosion. I knew my mum and dad were happy that it had not dropped on us.

My father was an Air Raid Warden and he was out checking that there were no lights showing anywhere when the air raid warning went off. I think my mother nwas too frightened to go out in the garden and down the dugout with me on her own. She pushed me into the cupboard under the stairs and followed me in. We had a seat, a torch and some books in there, but I was more afraid of the gas meter than the raid. Next day my father took me to see the damage. I was shocked to see a whole row of flattened houses just a short walk from ours. Several people we knew had been killed. I remember when I was very young, still in the pram, my mum and dad walking with me in the pram to visit my Aunt. It was a long way and when we cameback it was very dark. There were no lights anywhere and my dad used a torch find our way home. My Anuts family had had a narrow escape. A bomb had dropped at the back of their house. Luckily they got into their dugout before the bomb exploded, but falling masonary had blocked the door trapping them inside.

One day we heard a commotion at the front of our house. The road led straight from the docks. Marching along the road in a long column were German prisoners of war being escorted to the POW camp at Purfleet. I was very impressed. They looked just like ordinary soldiers in strange uniforms, not the monsters I expected. When they had passed I found a brass signet ring in the road, obviously hand made with a swastika engraved on it.

My friend Betty and I often watched groups of American soldiers being driven past in the back of lorries.

Keeping a home running must have been very difficult for my mother and father. We were one of the lucky families in a way. My dad did not have to go to war. When I asked him why he did not have to be an airman like my uncle charlie he said 'Because my feet are too big'. I believed him and told all my friends. Of course it was joke, he worked in a protected trade. He ran a scrap merchants yard. The scrap metal was urgently needed for making tanks and guns.

On our living room wall was a map of Europe. Every evening he would tune in to the radio news broadcast to follow the progress of the troops and mark it on a map little coloured flag pins.

I never remember being hungry. My mother was very good at feeding us. She would very quietly tip the butcher so that she never left the shop empty handed. She made soup with big chunks of marrow bone, wonderful tomato and vegatable soup with creamed potatoes sitting on the side of the bowl. We often ate home killed pork.One of our neighbours kept pigs in their garden. They brought round a collecting bucket every day for food scraps to feed the pigs. The meat was shared out when the pigs were slaughted. One of my favourite snacks was bread and pork dripping with salt and pepper. We had a goose, which my dad was fattening for christmas but it escaped. One night there was a terrible noise out the front. It was our goose. Someone was carrying it back under their arm. Most of the vegetables for the table, my dad either grew in our garden or the allotment. All types of food were carried from house to house and sold from a horse and cart. One day the greengrocer had something special - bananas. I had nevr tasted such a strange fruit before. Children were not able to pop into the sweet shop for sweets, there were not any. My friends and I brought something called 'Spanish Wood'. It was a liquoice flavoured wood, which we nibbled and sucked until it disintegrated. In the general store there was a big glass globe drinks dispenser producing flavoured gassy drinks sold for a 1d a glass, which was a big treat.The first time I ever had a real sweet was after the war when rationing ended. It was a stick of Barley Sugar, there was no choice of sweets. Every morning I had to take a teaspoon of Cod Liver Oil because I had had rickets when I was a baby. I dreaded it and the only way I could get it down was to eat a slice of dry bread after swallowing the oil. It put me off cod for life.

My mother made our clothes herself. She used her old clothes or blankets cut down. I can even remember her using a parachute. I do not know where she got it from but it made lovely underclothes. My dad redocorated our house. He distempered the wall of the stair well and stippled it with a large sponge and various coloured distempers. Mum and I thought it was really smart.

When the war ended we had a big street party. One of the residents brought out her piano, another had a drum and someone produced jumping jack fireworks. Everyone brought food and we crowded round the piano and sang and danced all night.

Christine Jane Ketley, (nee Coker, 28/05/04: Dictated to Ian Nutley

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