大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Paul Trainer of Torbay Library Services on behalf of Mrs Diamond and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's Terms and Conditions.

In the second part of her story, Mrs Diamond continues her account to her grandson of her fascinating and often thrilling story of growing up in war-torn Fulham.

Grandma's War Part 2

Just before 1940 Bill came home on seven days鈥� embarkation leave. He would not say where he was going but I鈥檓 sure he knew. A cousin took the photo of him I have sent you and behind him is one of the street shelters we all used. Ours is round the corner. After Bill went we did not hear from him for about six weeks, then we received a postcard saying he was well. Then another six to seven weeks passed and we received a letter telling us he was well and busy. He wrote he had been remembering the trip we took just before the war to the beach at Clacton and the happy time we had. We were all puzzled why he had remembered it as it had rained all day and a friend said 鈥淗e鈥檚 in the desert,鈥� and of course he was. Every Sunday evening I wrote him a Forces letter card. Like a large number of older people in our part of London, neither Aunt Lot or Uncle Bill could write a letter. They could read simple print and sign their name and understand anything read to them, but if a market trader told Bill the price of a bag of potatoes or of cabbage he could immediately tell you the price to sell them at to make the required profit. So I wrote the letters. Aunt told me what she wanted to say, then Uncle did and I filled up the rest of the form with anything I could think of.

It was now March 1941 and we were not getting so many raids, but many other parts of Britain were having a dreadful time. The weather had been very bad with snow and ice and George, the man on our other round, had been ill and now decided he was going to an indoor job. Uncle was sorry to see him leave but understood his reasons. He decided we would divide his customers between us and only have two rounds.
When he let it be known at the market that he had a horse for sale he had no problem in finding Joe a good home. Horses were in short supply. At this time, everything like beer, coal, bread, milk and many other things, were delivered by horses and cart. Only people like doctors had a petrol ration to drive a car.

Life went on. I was still taking First Aid and Nursing classes. Then in June 1941 three things happened. I had a birthday, the Germans invaded Russia and clothes were rationed. The year went by, until December, when on Sunday 7th, Japan attacked America鈥檚 Navy at a place called Pearl Harbour and America was in the war, but this did not affect me. By the spring of 1942 there were so many children in London that teachers returned and schools were opened full time. Children were traced and had to attend school. I was almost 14 years old when a lady called. Aunt and I had to attend an interview and it was agreed that if I could provide a birth certificate I need not attend school. I was given a form to take to the Town Hall registrar and given the Birth Certificate. It cost me 6d (old pence). The school started evening classes for children like me and I did go. As soon as I was 14 I had to have an employment card and put a special Insurance 6d stamp on it each week and Uncle Bill had to pay me a wage. I received 拢1 a week, of which I paid Aunt 15 shillings housekeeping and had to buy my own clothes and shoes out of the rest. I was also allowed to be a volunteer helper at the local hospital. I went from 2pm to 6pm on Sundays and I loved it. I worked on a ladies鈥� ward helping the nurses by doing whatever I was asked. Within a few weeks I knew that this was what I wanted to do when the war was over; I wanted to train to be a Nurse.

In the Autumn there were big battles in the desert and although I wrote every week, Bill鈥檚 letters were very spasmodic, sometimes 4 or 5 together, sometimes none. Another winter came and went and it was 1943. Three events stand out in this year. Firstly, early in the year, we had great excitement. Aunt Lot and Uncle Bill had a letter from the King! Of course, he did not write it but it came from Buckingham Palace and it stated that the King had awarded their son Rifleman William J. J. Barnard the Military Medal for Gallantry in Battle. He had rescued some soldiers and their officer from a burning lorry in the desert without regard for his own safety. We were all so proud of him, although, as he said, anyone would have done the same 鈥� he just came along first.

Secondly, in the middle of June 鈥� it was a Monday morning 鈥� Uncle had gone to market, and I had stayed at home as Polly had a shoe loose and I had to take her to the farrier to have a new set of shoes fitted. I had just got back when a telegraph boy rode along and gave me a telegram. I immediately knew it was bad news so I put it in my pocket, tied Polly to the cart and ran around the corner to fetch Aunt Lot鈥檚 sister. I showed her the envelope and she came back with me and took it in to Aunt Lot. The telegram said: 鈥淲e regret to inform you that your son Rifleman William J. J. Barnard has died from wounds received in battle on June 6th 1943.鈥� Then, Uncle Bill arrived back from market and we had to break the news to him. Everyone was devastated and very sad. Bill was a dear, kind and caring man.

The third happening of 1943 was quite different. In autumn the government announced that some fresh oranges had arrived. These were the first since 1939 and every child under five would receive one pound of oranges each. We collected these from Covent Garden market and we had to cut out the coupons from the ration book and save them for the food office. You cannot weigh an exact pound of oranges, they are either more or less and no-one will take less. It was a very difficult job to do. When it was done, I had to take the coupons and any bad oranges to the council food office to account for all the oranges in the crates. I never wanted to work in a shop!
1944 started with a feeling of waiting for something to happen, but life went on as usual until the beginning of June when the second front in Europe started and the troops landed on the beaches of France. I was 16 at the end of June and had to register with the Ministry of Labour, as I was working in a family business and a volunteer in a local hospital. I was already 鈥渄oing my bit鈥� and put on the form that I wanted to train as a nurse when I was of age.

As the armies advanced through France, the Germans started a new attack against London. We did not know what they were but we soon found out they were pilot-less planes flying at very high speed, powered by a rocket with a blue-ish flame coming out of the rear. In other words, they were flying bombs. A deep buzzing noise sounded while it was flying but when the noise stopped, it dived to earth with an enormous explosion, enough to flatten 4 or 5 houses. The Air Force was very good at exploding them in the air and on the coast the anti-aircraft guns also exploded a great number, but there were so many being launched that a large number did get through, both by day and night. Somehow, you just got used to them and although the air raid warning went you watched them pass over, hoping the engine would not cut out, while you got on with your work. I had one 鈥渃lose encounter鈥� with one on a lovely Saturday afternoon. I was working my round and had several customers along one terrace of houses. As the warning had gone, I packed the cart and put on the brakes, then put two large blocks of wood under the back wheels. I put Polly鈥檚 nosebag on; she would have a snack at this stop as I was usually there for some time serving everyone. I was at the back of the cart making up orders and had watched 2 or 3 of the planes (we called them Doodle Bugs) pass over. Then another appeared but this time the engine stopped. I ran to Polly, held on to her headpiece for what seemed like an age (but was only about 20 seconds) as I watched this Doodle coming straight at me. It passed right over my head, only about 50 feet high with a great rushing wind. It fell on houses about 100 yards away. There was absolute silence for a second, then an enormous explosion and the blast lifted me and Polly and the cart off the ground and down again. I felt I could not breathe and could hardly believe I was alive. We were covered in dust and dirt and both Polly and I had minor cuts and grazes from falling debris. I just leaned against Polly. People started to run towards me and a man held Polly鈥檚 head and someone sat me on a chair. Then, someone else gave me a cup of tea and wiped my face. I was very dazed for a few minutes and I think Polly was too, as she just stood still. The bomb hit a row of houses in the very next road where I had been delivering less than half an hour earlier. The houses were destroyed and several people killed or injured. I felt lucky to be alive and after short rest, continued with my round.

As the troops in France advanced, the Doodle Bugs became less frequent and then stopped once the launch sites had been captured. Life for us returned to some sort of normality, although there was devastation all over London. With the start of 1945 it was plain to see the war in Europe was going to end fairly soon. I would be 17 in June and was beginning to hope to see the end of my war. I knew there would not be any happy ending, as Bill would not be coming home. This had been the main reason for my working in the business. At the end of February I asked Uncle Bill if he had given thought to his future plans for when the war finished. He had not, but had always known of my wish to train as a nurse. He said he would not expand his business or take anyone else in my place. He agreed to talk things over with Aunt Lot, which he did. She was not keen on change and thought I should continue for a few more years as we were. I knew it was now or never and after more discussion she agreed I could apply for a training place. I applied two days after Victory in Europe day and after interviews and exams I gained a place to start in September 1945. My Uncle sold Tommy and just kept Polly and continued working the best of our two rounds combined for a few more years until in 1951 the council decided to redevelop the whole area and he retired.

And so this is the end of Grandma鈥檚 War.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.