大象传媒

"This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Roger M Judge [ie you, the volunteer] on behalf of myself [ie the author] and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions."

In 1939 when the war broke out, my father decided that it would be safer for the family to move away from New Eltham in Kent - 12 miles from central London, to a place which would be less dangerous so we went to Great Bookham in Surrey which is all of 18 miles away from the capital ...! I was six and a half years old and we lived in a house with a back garden bordering Farmer Gray's 40 acre field. Unconcerned at the anxieties which must have plagued every parent at the time, our days were spent in blissful ignorance of the dangers of war and we watched dogfights in the skies during the Battle of Britain, rooted around in the odd bomb crater and collected shrapnel which became something of a currency to be exchanged or haggled over dependant upon its perceived or recognised worth.

One magical day we had a german aircraft come down in Farmer Gray's field. I can't remember whether it crashed or not and I don't know what happened to the pilot - what I do know is that the lads of the village saw this as real treasure trove and great lumps of this plane got passed around before the authorities eventually came and carted it away. Where it came from, I can't remember but Wally Christie got hold of an unexploded incendiary bomb which he used to bring to school in his satchel and which we used to pass around between us and greatly admire. We envied him this marvellous war memento and he might have still have had it to this day, had a teacher not seen it, made him leave it on the playground and called the ARP warden in to dispose of it. It was only later I learned what burning magnesium can do and realisation of the blood-curdling dangers to which we exposed ourselves and our families sank in ...

We had a brigade of Canadian troops set up in camp quite near us and they were great guys getting us involved in all manner of things, especially boxing tournaments when they would put a couple of kids in the ring wearing huge pillow gloves; they would compete as "Paperweights" or "Dustweights". As we grew older, more inquisitive and cheekier, some of us would hide away in the overgrown grass and weeds in the grounds of the old Victoria Hotel and wait for one of these soldiers to bring one of the village maidens into the gardens for some hanky panky. Once they got properly settled into the old routine we would leap up, dance around them like dervishes and shout, whoop and holler. Then we would run like hell - they never caught us, but sometimes it was a close call and it all depended upon their state of undress.

Winter always seemed a lot colder during the war years and Downland Road where we lived was straight as a die, a real hill with kerbs both sides and a slight rise at the bottom. Army trucks were parked all along one side of the road and very little traffic passed along it, so as soon as it snowed, we were out there with our toboggans, sledges, tin trays - anything which would slide - and in no time at all we had that surface turned into ice. Hurtling down the hill we had to be a bit careful not to catch our fingers between our sledges and the kerb, but we used to really get up some speed. Hitting the bottom the slight incline which went on for maybe 100 yards would slow and stop us. It was heaven.

With the advent of the VI flying bombs and VII rockets, my mother moved us up to Kendall in Westmoreland and we were there for a few months. Different life but also good. Not far away there was a place called Tebay where we used to catch eels in the river and, although I am not an angler nowadays, I did catch a young salmon - a grilse. I also got a job in Kendall as a Saturday boy delivering groceries on a bike with a big basket on the front and I remember Kendall as very hilly with cobbled streets which it was only possible to ride down. I also remember it as a peaceful place.

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