大象传媒

FIRST CAR RIDE, FIRST PARTY

1939: I was 7 years old, living with my parents, brother and sister, Bobby 4, Betty 3, above and rear of 鈥楬odges Newsagents,鈥� 99a High Street, Wealdstone. Three up, one down and the kitchen, 鈥榳hich had our only entrance/exit.鈥� One evening dad, a reservist, came rushing in calling to mum 鈥淚鈥檝e got to go鈥�. is mobilising the troops.鈥� I didn鈥檛 fully understand but knew from their face and voice they were very worried; that something bad was happening: 鈥榙ad changed and left immediately鈥� (Dads 鈥楽oldier鈥檚 Service and Record Book鈥� records, 鈥楻eturn To The Colours.鈥� 30/8/1939, Mobilised). Things settled down for us children and we played happily in the garden as before, but changes had started, note the blackout curtain at the rear window, and Bobby鈥檚 tin helmet, now a popular toy amongst the boys.

Gas masks were issued, we encouraged little Betty to ware hers by calling it 鈥楳ickey Mouse,鈥� it was blue with a floppy red nose and two round eyes, Bobby and I got those orrible black things. One Sunday morning we were allowed to go to 鈥楾he Cabin,鈥� a little caf茅 at the end of our back alley to buy sweets; as we left The Cabin there was a funny loud hooter we had never heard before; then mum and auntie came running out of the alley and hurried us back home. They made us put our gas masks on, as mum put mine under my chin and pulled the straps鈥� over my head I grabbed the snout and pulled it off 鈥� the rubber smell reminded me of the Dentist and I thought I was going to suffocate; but we all got used to them eventually. This had been our first (test) air raid warning.

1940 and things were more serious; mum had decided to keep us children in one bedroom so that she could get to us quickly if need be, while she slept in the small bedroom at the far back. Sometimes I felt frightened and would ask mum to sleep with us; luckily she did on the night of the
23rd August 1940. Betty slept in a cot, Bob and I in the double bed with mum at the other end of it.

I never remembered a bang: just woke bewildered in pitch darkness and horrible choking dust. Hearing mum quietly say 鈥渃ome on, a bombs gone off, we have to get out of here.鈥� I said, 鈥渄o you mean bombed like those other little children.鈥� she said 鈥測es, come very slowly and stay with me.鈥� She guided Bobby and I onto the first small landing, it hurt our feet because there was parts of the room on the floor: we had to stay there while mum felt her way back into the bedroom to get Betty out of the cot. Then; mum was by the wall and carrying Betty, I held onto the banisters and Bobby鈥檚 hand, mum held his other hand; she said 鈥渒eep together, we must go very slowly.鈥� In the darkness we silently edged our way down the landing and the first three stairs, turned on the second landing to continue down 鈥� then I felt real fear, I could feel Bobby moving away from me as my arm became outstretched, I cried out 鈥渕ummy,鈥� 鈥渨hat鈥檚 wrong鈥� she asked 鈥渢here鈥檚 a big hole鈥� I cried. The banisters and my part of the staircase were no longer there. 鈥淒on鈥檛 move, stay where you are, I鈥檒l come and get you鈥� she said. She managed to get to the bottom, put Betty down and keeping to the wall side came back for Bobby then returned for me.

Then we were stuck in the dark and dust amongst all the rubble that had fallen and half the staircase blocking our only exit - 鈥榯he kitchen door.鈥� There was mum鈥檚 quite comforting voice again 鈥渄on鈥檛 worry, Granddad will come soon, we wont be left here,鈥� So we sat quietly: then we heard the wailing air raid warning and mum call out in fear 鈥淥h! The buggers are still here鈥� this started us all whimpering, but mum was comforting us again. 鈥淚t鈥檚 all right, someone will come soon they won鈥檛 leave us here.鈥� It was only a short while till we heard the all clear and didn鈥檛 feel quite so frightened. Photo show鈥檚 what was left of mum鈥檚 bedroom; she would surely have died had she slept there that night. 鈥楾his had been a sneak air raid, with no warning.鈥�

Outside, Granddad, who was in the ARP, had arrived to find the devastation 鈥� with a badly ulcerated leg, he ran to Wealdstone Police Station for help. We heard a voice call 鈥渁nyone there,鈥� 鈥淲e鈥檙e in

here鈥� answered mum. 鈥淲e鈥檒l soon have you out,鈥� said the voice, and it was the Police who rescued
us. They decided to take the eldest, first, I was pulled through the top of the small window on the left of the photo, just above the debris; and wrapped in a blanket. A policeman carried me down the garden and back alley; we were now opposite the old 鈥楬erga鈥� cinema, I looked up and saw lights flickering at the top of the building, I said: 鈥淧oliceman; there鈥檚 a fire over there.鈥� He looked up, then shouted, 鈥渇ire in the Herga, fire in the Herga,鈥� then other Policemen started trying to get the 鈥楬erga鈥� doors open to get in.

Meanwhile Bobby and Betty were pulled through the window. Then a problem; they couldn鈥檛 get mum who was four months pregnant through the opening, so had to move some of the rubble. When the three of them finally joined us mum and the Policeman spoke together, I think he was anxious to help with the Herga fire; mum said we would be all right, he told her to take us to a rest centre -- somewhere at the back of Locket Road.

So, in bright moonlight in the early hours of the morning, wearing our night-clothes and blankets, but no shoes, or knickers; we set off. We crossed Wealdstone High Street, passed the clock tower and turned into Locket Road. Oh! said mum, 鈥渢hey鈥檝e hit the bank as well and the water main鈥檚 gone too.鈥� The water looked lovely shooting up high with the moonlight shining on it; mum hurried us on. At the rest centre they cleaned us up gave us drinks and told us to rest. A nurse asked mum if we had anywhere to go, mum said we would go to my Nan, a kind man gave us a lift in his car.
鈥楾he first car ride we had ever had.鈥�

A couple of doors down from us was Dobsons/Dawsons bakery, the bake-house was in their back garden and they were often told off for showing light. Local talk was 鈥榯he bomber was probably looking for 鈥楰odak (which is on the other side of the rail track) and could have mistaken the bakery light for the factory.鈥� Kodak would have been in production for the war effort.

We stayed with Nan and Granddad for a while but it was pretty crowded, as they had already taken in other family members. Sometimes we slept in nan鈥檚 鈥榳hite washed coal-hole,鈥� sometimes the Anderson shelter in the garden, a big jumble of brothers, sisters and cousins. I remember Nan bringing down big jugs of cocoa. One night I woke to hear mum and auntie laughing: the children had moved in their sleep, some sleeping on top of others, all mixed up: trying to sort them out they - had a leg left over without an owner 鈥� 鈥榳e only had dimmed torch light in shelters.鈥�

Still homeless, and surely desperate; mum took us to visit aunty who lived in a large Mansion type house in Tottenham. The house was divided into small flats and had a huge basement all the residents used as a shelter; sleeping there every night. We stayed the night in the basement leaving next afternoon but there was traffic hold-up, then an air raid. We ended up on the underground and the trains stopped so we sat on the stairs, a kind lady who had an enormous blanket offered to share and she cuddled me all night.

Mum had been given an allowance to buy clothes, as we had nothing. But, with her husband away in the army, three small children, four months鈥� pregnant and bombed out of her home - that was all the help she got. We were homeless for 4 months before mum got help and we moved into a requisitioned house in Stox Mead, just days before Christmas. The house had been empty a long time and was very cold and damp. I remember mum lighting fires to try and warm the place up and being worried about curtains fitting windows; you would be in trouble if you showed light at night.

Impetigo was rife and, not surprising the way we were living, we got our share. It was most
unpleasant, the treatment was special baths at the clinic where the whole body was immersed in some solution.

At the time of the bombing my aunt Rose and cousin John were living in Rosslyn Crescent, near the old 鈥楥ourt House鈥� which has prison cells beneath it. John remembers, 鈥渢he prisoners were moved to the back cells and the locals were allowed to use the front as shelters.鈥� His childhood memory was of steps going a very long way down.

New sister Valerie was born in February 1941. Later that year, due to being in the final stage of tuberculosis (also prevalent at the time) aunt Rose came to live with us bringing 7 year old John. Aunty died on 3rd November, aged 25. John grew up with us and our cousin became our brother.

At the new house we got the luxury of an indoor, 鈥楳orrison shelter鈥� but now we were six in number so it was best to sleep widthways, anyone tall had there feet stuck out the bottom --鈥� poor mum.

We would at times call into my nan鈥檚. Nan, having read the morning paper or listened to the wireless would say things like 鈥淧ortsmouth got it again last night.鈥� Mum would answer 鈥渢he buggers.鈥� Or 鈥淐oventry was hit real bad last night.鈥� Mums answer 鈥渢he bloody buggers.鈥�

One of our favourite playgrounds now was 鈥榯he wreckage鈥� this was the bombsite of four houses that had gone down in Stanhope Avenue, at the end of our road. Most of the rubble had been cleared, but there was still plenty left for us to build dens and play on. We kept chickens and ducks in the garden; when the hens got broody and the chicks hatched we made a little incubator with a light bulb
to keep them warm. Later we acquired a pig, 鈥楽ally鈥�, she was huge, we kept her on an allotment somewhere at the back of 鈥榃ealdstone/Kenton rec.鈥� Mum would cook potato and vegetable peelings in a small tin bath on the cooker; the bath was lifted onto an old pushchair and we would push it down to the allotment to feed her. I don鈥檛 know how we came by Sally, I always thought it was something to do with Granddad and a man in a pub: we only had her a short time and were glad when she went, she was hard work. Mum said we were only allowed to keep a small portion of the meat; the government took the rest.

1943: We were invited to a childrens鈥� Christmas party organised by local shopkeepers. New sister 鈥榁alerie鈥� now nearly 3, sang on stage 鈥榊ou Are My Sunshine鈥� the version adults had taught her.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
A box of matches, A 鈥楥raven A,鈥�
A Willie Woodbine, A dah da da dah da, (I can鈥檛 remember the words)
Please don鈥檛 take my sunshine away.

We had a great time and were all given a present, I had a small cardboard wind-up gramophone, with three records and needles. Betty and Valerie had a doll each. Bobby had a handmade wooden ship, it was well played with but did get battle scarred: its searchlight, gun turret and guns twist and turn. I have wondered over the years about the man who took the trouble to make it for a small boy and - of what he would say if I could tell him today 鈥� 鈥榳e still have the little ship; now 63 years old.鈥�
A treasured memory of 鈥榦ur first party.鈥�

Another favourite playground was the 鈥榟ay fields,鈥� this was part of the old Blackwell estate at the end of Long Elms, it had two ponds where we used to catch newts or whatever was in the water, but we loved playing there. We lost our ponds when a POW camp was built on part of the fields. These were long wooden huts surrounded with high barbed wire. The first occupants were Italian: later replaced with German POWs: after a time, they were allowed to walk out. The prisoners had a large 鈥楶鈥� stamped on the back of their uniform so they were easily seen. One Christmas mum and I went
to Woolworth鈥檚 to buy cards, a German POW was at the counter holding a Christmas card, he turned to mum holding out money in his hand; mum looked: opened her purse and gave him the tuppence he was short. I couldn鈥檛 believe what I had seen 鈥� outside the shop I asked 鈥淢um, why did you give him tuppence?鈥� She said, 鈥渨ell, there is good and bad in every country.鈥�

We lost a lot of schooling apart from that caused by air raids; at one time the RAF commandeered Chandos School, Belmont, so the Chandos Children had to share with St. Joseph鈥檚, Wealdstone. One week we had the morning session and they the afternoon, reversing alternate weeks. My cousin John had a different set-up; a teacher would go to his house and teach a group of 3-4 children for a few hours a week.

On the way home one winter evening the siren sounded, we hurried on mum pushing the pram faster, children trying to keep up. Just before St. Joseph鈥檚 Church we heard it coming; we knew the err, err, err, drone of its鈥� engine and 鈥榳ith our eyes fixed on it as it flew over our heads flames shooting from it鈥檚 back; we walked backwards, so frightened.鈥� The doodlebug 鈥榁1鈥� passed out of sight; we heard the engine cut out then the explosion - probably Harrow Weald/Bushey area.

Many people will remember 鈥楳r Chad鈥� the funny little man with the long fat nose who was always warning people to do the right thing such as 鈥� 鈥楥areless talk costs lives.鈥� 鈥楥ough and sneezes spread diseases, a clean handkerchief always pleases.鈥� Or 鈥業s your journey really necessary?鈥� Mr Chad was also used in trains. Train windows had a mesh fabric stuck onto them to stop glass splintering, only a small opening about 2 陆 鈥渪 6 陆鈥� was left for people to see out and, the stations were kept in darkness with only a dim light over their nameplate. You only had to travel a few stations and often wouldn鈥檛 know where you were. The fabric on the windows was often torn at the corners where people tried to see more clearly. The caption I remember best was, 鈥� a 鈥楳r Chad sticker鈥� stuck over an opening that had been badly torn, saying: -

鈥淧ardon me for my correction, but that stuff is there for your protection.鈥�
Some wit had written underneath. -
鈥� Thank you for your concernation. But I can鈥檛 see my bloody station.鈥�

Towards the end of the war now being a 鈥榥early grown-up girl,鈥� I was walking down Long Elms on my own in the blackout: I was almost opposite another four house wreckage site; looking across I could see three shapes bent over and running like soldiers do in battle. I couldn鈥檛 walk, just stood in fear, the thought through my head was 鈥楪erman paratroopers鈥� I was terrified. Then out of the darkness a man was walking towards me, I went to him but couldn鈥檛 speak, he just said 鈥淚ts all right, its all right,鈥� and walked on. I was petrified the shapes were nearer now, then in a shaft of moonlight I could see 鈥� three pigs! They had escaped from a nearby allotment; I was so frightened I was still shaking when I got home. It must have been that Sally, come back to haunt me.

The saddest thing for the family were those we lost. Killed by bomb in an air raid at Chingford
14th April 1944: My dad lost his brother, John Stokes, sister in law Grace, and three nephews.
Two were home on leave and the youngest son was only 13 years of age. Two other sons of the family were away on active service.

Also, on the 21st August 1944, at Chiswick/Ealing, mum鈥檚 aunt,
Ada Saunders was killed, I believe that was a Flying bomb 鈥榁I鈥� on the house.

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