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DISCLAIMER

This contribution to WW2 People’s War was received by the Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Norfolk. The story has been written and submitted to the website by Rosalie Davis Gibb (Volunteer Story Gatherer) with the full permission and on behalf of Rita Stevens.

After travelling by steamer from Tilbury, Essex to Great Yarmouth, Norfolk, a very naïve 22 year old teacher in charge of pregnant mums and under fives, I spent the night in a cemetery, listened to the declaration of war on the beach, then went by coach to Gresham School where many of the children had sickness and diarrhoea most of the night. The next morning we went to Holt where residents ‘picked out’ evacuees, many of whom were dockers’ children more used to whisky and chips suppers. Not used to lavatories, they relieved themselves in corners of rooms. Gradually they drifted back to Tilbury.

At Tilbury School there were no deep shelters as the land was too marshy. Most days were spent in surface shelters. When possible we taught in classrooms. On one occasion I had to shout ‘get under the desks’ as a plane machine gunned the school, leaving bullet holes along the side of the room. One such ‘raider’ was shot down and the police had to rescue parachuting Germans from Tilbury women armed with kitchen knives. The machine gun from the plane was never found. In the fracas some of our kids whipped it and hid it.

Early in 1941 I joined the WRNS. After training, I was sent to HMS Mercury, the Signal School at Leydene in Hampshire, as a Quarters Assistant. Leydene, commandeered by the Navy, was a very large camp with Nissan huts and extensive grounds surrounding the mansion, belonging to the Vaudeville star Beatrice Lillie. Discipline was very strict. Concert parties and dances relieved the tension but tin hats and gas masks were rig of the day even then. At night if a raid was imminent a Tannoy system in my room boomed out ‘Raiders approaching, Raiders approaching’ which meant get out of bed and, torch in hand, go round every one of the 36 houses to count ‘bodies’. One night I encountered a strange figure in black oilskins who asked me questions in a peculiar accent, so I innocently tried to direct him towards the armed guards at the Camp entrance. This was not long before D-Day.

I met my husband in May 1943. He was in the Regular Navy and served on submarines, battleships, landing craft etc so was rarely ashore. I always managed to see him regularly though. We were married on 31st August 1944. The next day he was sent to Arnhem, a soldier’s battle but the Navy was sent in as back up. From there he was sent with a special party through Europe. He actually took the surrender of the German Admiral at Kiel Canal and relieved him of his sword, Iron Cross and the Swastika flag which he hauled down. I still have them in my hall cupboard!

I was in London on VE Day and joined in the celebrations and rejoicing — singing along with others ‘Bluebells are bluebells, bluebells are blue’. Why? I don’t know but it didn’t seem to matter at the time — the days of fear and danger were over and somehow we had come through it all.

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