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Few houses had electricity in those days so wireless sets had to be battery operated. These wireless sets, were cumbersome affairs, they were powered by a very heavy "High Tension", dry battery 90 volts or so. And by accumulators, which were lead acid batteries,even heavier These had to be recharged frequently by the local wireless shop. He charged tuppence for this service, which took all day. Your name was painted on the side of these accumulators in white paint, so that you could retain them, You had to be careful when transporting these devices, as the acid spilt easily, and you would suffer burns to your legs, but what was worse your trousers and socks disintegrated. Many of the children had trousers peppered with holes, as a result of carrying them home too fast. This experience was usually accompanied with a clip around the ear for alleged carelessness. Thanks indeed for an errand
We as children, had our own "wireless sets". We found out (and this defies physics) that if you connected a sensitive pair of headphones, one lead to an earth pipe and the other to a good aerial, you would hear local radio stations quietly but clearly. This was another subject we discussed. Who had got the best reception, or the farthest station, etc. One step down from a crystal set I believe. We would listen to Monday at Eight, or Appointment with Fear, (which very often terrified us).
The surrounding streets were lined with air raid shelters. These were constructed stoutly of 2 foot thick brick walls and reinforced concrete roofs. We spent many nights in these shelters, when the raids were "heavy". Inside our shelter was a large brass bed, an old settee, a few chairs and a piano. The bed housed about 6 or 7 children, who slept there, for the night, whilst the adults amused themselves by singing old tunes to this piano. One night, during the early hours, we were woken by a tremendous crash, the usual dust, screams and darkness. Eventually the ARP called through the door, and said we were safe but not to venture out until the morning. In the morning, we could see the cause of the mayhem. A bomb had landed just 20 feet away from the shelter, in the middle of the road, Furley Road, to be precise. There was a large crater, and houses on each side of the road had been flattened. The gap is still there to this day. The shelter, however. Apart from a few cracks, was intact, a testimony to their amazing strength. We owed our lives to the people who designed and built these havens.
Another shelter we used to frequent occasionally, was in the basement of a bus depot in Meeting House Lane. This was a very large shelter and housed many people. We had a piano ,a wireless set, someone had a silent cine projector, and numerous games for children to play with. We had some terrific parties here, fancy dress parties and even a Xmas Party, with a "real "Santa" who had a small gift for everyone. On one particular Christmas fancy dress party, I was dressed as a policeman, and my sister, Jean, was dressed as fairy. She won the competition, much to Mum,s delight.
We were oblivious to the nightly bangs and crashes above. The only problem with these shelters, were, that you had to get in there early to take up your position. Many people never bothered, and paid with their lives. It was a terrible, but commonplace fact, that nearly every day, news flooded in of nearby deaths. There was indeed very heavy bombing in this area. But as I said earlier, as children, we didn’t realise the full impact of it.
There was a consrant "blackout", at night, it was total darkness. Total darkness in the streets, is uncanny, and has to be seen to be believed. This you never see today. We had large black curtains or black frames in our windows, to prevent any light leaking out into the night. If you did allow any light out. This would invite a knock on your door by a policeman or air-raid warden, to rectify the matter, Or you would receive the loud and common invitation to "Put that light out!!". This was a very common sound in the streets at night. These small leaks of light, we were told would invite the Luftwaffe to bomb us. This miniscule of light, I wouldn,t have thought, would have made any difference. But nevertheless, it was an offence. An extra dose of darkness, would be experienced if there was a fog. However, foggy nights were welcome, as there no air raids on foggy nights. Cars would creep along the roads, showing dipped and diffused lights. There front bumpers were painted white. Pedestrians would be knocking into each other, or into lamp-posts. People could not find their way home, so did not venture out, if it was not necessary. White bands were painted around any obstacles. Lamp-posts had white bands painted around the bottoms. But these were not always obvious. Also the edges of the pavements, were lined with white stripes.
We were issued with gas masks, which reeked of rubber and made you feel sick. They had taped on fronts, for certain gasses, When new gas types came to light we had to have several other attachments fitted until we resembled elephants. Smaller children had unusual masks which resembled distorted Mickey Mouses, they were a sickly pink colour. Babies, like my small sister had to be inserted into rubber zip up case like device, On the out side was hand pump which you had pump up and fill up the interior and keep out harmful gasses, you could observe the occupant through a perspex window.
We were issued with brown cardboard boxes in which to carry our gas-masks around with us. These were soon in tatters, so you could buy rexine ones (plastic had not been invented yet) with press stud clips. These cases soon became an item of fashion, and you could get almost any shape and colour of gas-mask cases. We soon tired of carrying these cases around with us, and they were eventually discarded. The police and air raid wardens were the only persons who carried their masks with them. It was a blessing that gas was not used, as these devices seemed to be a little hit and miss in design.
It was at this time, that my Uncle Bert was enlisted, he had been in the T.A. and was therefore one of the first to be called up, into the Army. He was followed shortly by Uncle Bill, into the Army, and Uncle John, into the Airforce. My Dad was sent up north to work on munitions.
When Uncle Bert came home on leave, I was allowed to hold his rifle, (which they brought home in those days) and helped him to "bull" his boots to a brilliant shine. He treated me for this, which was an added bonus. He used to ask me to deliver his "date requests" to the young ladies in the neighbourhood, especially a girl named Sally, who worked in the corner bakers shop, he was quite a one for the ladies, was Uncle Bert. In return for these errands, I would ask him to take me the cinema with him, and his current girl friend.
I was quite small, and used to sit on the upturned cinema seat. I was obviously a burden, because one day, during an exciting part of the film, I flinched and fell between the seat and the chairback. I couldn,t move, I yelled out for help, but Uncle Bert was too obsessed with his girl friend to notice my predicament. I eventually managed to attract his attention. I must have been a nuisance, because he suddenly stopped taking me to the cinema. In fact when he eventually married Aunt Daisy, I was absent from the wedding photos, perhaps I "knew" too much. I know it was a splendid wedding. Uncle Bert was married in his Royal Artillery dress uniform, very smart it was too.
When we went to the "pictures", very often the film was disturbed by air raids, this warning of air-raids was flashed on the screen, and if it proved to be heavy, we were sent away and credited a return ticket, so cinemas in those days were a haphazard affair. Some of the cinemas we frequented as children, were awful. They were known as "bug-hutches". One in particular, at New Cross, was called the "Golden Domes" of all things. It was rotten, the seats were in tatters, and there were no toilets. Children would pee on the floor. In the summer you could imagine the smell. But it was only threepence to go in, and the films, George Formby or Old Mother Reilly etc. were hilarious. I can remember, on one occasion, it was a baking hot day. I was bursting to go to the loo. The film was good, and I left it a bit late. Halfway home, about an hours walk, disaster struck, and I crapped my pants. I could hold it no longer. I continued my journey home in the heat. The excrement, trickled down my legs and dried like plaster of Paris. When I arrived home, as usual, all my family were in the living-room playing cards. I sat and watched them. After a short while Uncle Bert, sniffed a couple of times, and asked of me "Have you shit yourself, Ging?" . "Yes I replied. There were no toilets and I could hold it no longer!!" I had a good hiding and a rough clean up. There were lots of these old cinemas around. The "Ideal" the "Grand" the "Palais" but the names were deceiving, they were really dirty and should have been closed down, really.
It was about this time that I really came to know my Grand-dad properly, he was, a kind and gentle man, he thought the world of me. He was almost blind, I used to lead him round to the local telephone box to dial Woolwich 2209 (funny how numbers stick in your mind), this was my Aunt Roses number. Uncle Jim, her husband, was a "Turncock" for the Water Board, in Woolwich. They had a phone in their house, for work purposes, A private telephone in a working class house, unheard of in those days.
I loved visiting my Aunt Rose. She was a very kind lady. She bought me a brand new bicycle from Willson,s in Peckham. I have never forgotten this.
My cousin Lenny also lived there, in Woolwich. It was a good fun place to be. You could ride on the Woolwich Free Ferry till your hearts content. We would wander up onto Woolwich Hill and see the Royal Artillery drilling and gunnery practice, in the Arsenal barracks. We would watch the large ships, sometimes warships, entering and leaving the Royal Docks on the opposite bank of the River Thames. Submarines sometimes moored in the river. There was always something interesting happening.
My cousin Lenny used to come and stay with us very often, in Peckham, he was a devil.
One one occaion, we got Uncle Berts, best trilby hat and passed it through the ringer, which was kept in the rear garden. The new shape it then assumed, we found hilarious.
Another time, outside our house , in Goldsmith Road, Uncle Bill, who was a milkman at the time, had parked his milk cart. It was a push cart. The road had a steep camber on it, we found that by both pushing together, we managed to topple the cart over, what a mess, we disappeared. Uncle Bill never knew what really happened.
On another occasion, we came across, in my Grand-dads room, a bottle of Sol Volatile. We thought that this was an alcoholic drink. Lenny thought that it was a good idea to have a swig. This we did, the taste was undescribable, our throats were on fire, we rushed down to the kitchen and rinsed or mouths out. We thought we had poisoned ourselves. Cousin Lenny was full of bright ideas. I bet he can remember more similar incidents.
My Grandad was blind and my Gran was deaf, we used to creep up on the staircase outside their room and start up our "humming top". We could, by undulating the speed , make it sound like an raid siren. My grandparents, thinking it was real, came out and ran downstairs for cover, we were in hysterics ouside their room, What horrors we were.
My Grandad was terrified of the air-raids, he died shortly after the war started. I remember that his coffin was laid to rest in our "front room", a regular occurence in those days. The coffin lid was laid partly back in order to see his face, which was kissed by most of the visitors, paying their last respects. My cousin Lenny induced me to play in this room chasing me round the coffin. I was about 7 years old at this time. He used to knock the lid of and say "He is coming to get you". I was terrified, what a horror my cousin was . I wonder if he remembers this?
It was in this house on a Saturday, night in 1941, a very heavy raid was in progress. It was the custom to huddle together in these circumstances. My mother, my Gran, my 2 year old sister,and myself, were all lying in a large bed in the downstairs front room. There was an almighty crash. And darkness, choking smoke and dust. My mother switched on the torch, saying that we ought to make our way to he nearest Air Raid Shelter, just down the road. She opened the door leading into the passage and was confronted with a pile of bricks, plaster and timber completely blocking the exit, we were trapped, Shortly after we heard voices outside the front window. It was The A,R.P. or air raid wardens, as they were called. We made ourselves heard and they broke what was left of the window or frame, carried us out, and took us to the shelter. On our return, in the morning, to get our possessions, we realised, that, the only room intact, was the one in which we were sleeping. A stick of bombs had fallen in Marmount Road, at the rear of our house, the whole back of the house was destroyed and was flattened except for this one room, downstairs in the front, What a lucky escape!
This was on Saturday night…….

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