大象传媒

This story A6336407 is submitted by The British School鈥檚 Museum, Hitchin with Brian Limbrick鈥檚 permission.

When war was declared on September 4th 1939 I was 7 years old. During the last week of August 1939 my family moved to Great Offley in Hertfordshire where my father became the village policeman. We knew that war was possible in 1938鈥�

1938: I was a spectator at a civil defence exercise on Butts Close, Hitchin. I had a grandstand view because my father seated me on a World War I tank which stood on the Close as a memorial. A mock house was built of inflammable materials in the middle of the greensward. A large yellow twin-engined aeroplane flew over and dropped an object on the 鈥榟ouse鈥�, which burst into flames. Someone appeared at an upper window shouting for help and firemen and police rushed forward with a ladder and rescued them.

1939: My family was enjoying a holiday fortnight at Boscombe in mid鈥擜ugust when my father was suddenly called back as a state of emergency was declared. I clearly remember looking out of the taxi crossing London seeing sandbags around buildings and police on duty everywhere. We all thought the Germans might bomb London without warning and were relieved to get to Kings Cross and catch the train to Hitchin.

1939: I was playing in Meadow Way, Offley with my new friends Angela and Sheila when suddenly everything went quiet. It was a hot day and all the windows were open and we clearly heard Prime Minister Chamberlain make the declaration of war. Our short lives had been filled with stories of WW1 and the carnage; we felt awed and expected the Germans to arrive by air at any moment.

1939: The week I started school at Offley Church of England elementary. I remember an air raid drill. There was no shelter and we had to sit under our desks. Later we were given gas masks that hung on the back of our desks. A few days later a ship named The Athena (I think) was sunk by a German sub so we knew that we were at war. In December we were cheered by the sinking of the Graf Spee German pocket battleship. I was given Picture Post, which carried lots of graphic photographs. At the Christmas pantomime at the Hermitage Cinema, Hitchin, we sang 鈥淚 like Smiths crisp Crisps鈥� and bags of crisps were thrown to us (I did not catch one) and 鈥淩un Rabbit Run鈥�. The words came down on a big printed sheet. The panto was Cinderella (I think) because I remember two Shetland ponies pulling a little coach. Everyone was telling jokes about Hitler. The 大象传媒 programmes were different although Happidrome with Enoch, Ramsbottom and Me continued. Radio Normandie stopped broadcasting the Ovaltinees on Sunday afternoons, which I missed.

1940: Now we had sticky paper strips criss-crossing all our windowpanes at home and school to cut the effect of blast shattered glass. The school had thick curtains, we had boards inside the windows to create blackout. There wasn鈥檛 yet a lot of war but I can remember Vauxhall鈥攎ade army lorries starting test runs on the A505 - we were told to keep away from the roadside. A long prefab building was built at the back of the school for (we were told) an emergency base for evacuees. School was very full so we had classes in the cookery room (it was a secondary elementary) and older children aged 11-14 came from other villages. Kings Walden estate sold rabbits to the cook to supplement the meat. They were skinned and dressed alongside us; the smell was awful and I used to run home to be sick. The school preferred me to be sick in school. I was in the church choir; every Sunday we prayed for our allies especially France. When the Germans launched their Blitzkrieg in May everyone became very worried because they seemed to be in places that they hadn鈥檛 been in WW1. My Gran gave me my late Granddad's superhet shortwave radio with a long copper aerial so I had world-wide reception. Deutschlandsender was broadcasting scary things in English. My mother told me not to listen but I did.

We only heard about Dunkirk afterwards. My father had always admired Mr. Churchill so I heard all the broadcast speeches. One day Radio Paris sounded wrong and the 大象传媒 announced it had fallen. We all went to church for a special service and prayed for deliverance from the Germans. I sat next to a lady who had lost two sons in WW1, she cried and held my hand, that pleased my mother. After the fall of France the 大象传媒 kept playing "J'attendrai" over and over again. I liked Rina Ketty's version best but usually it was Tino Rossi or Jean Sablon. Now we saw our Home Guard Unit under the command of Mr. Jim Wright who had been at The Delhi Durbar of 1911. A sort of fortified dugout post was made at Offley Hill crossroads. We boys were given the job of filling sandbags. When it was not in use we had great games in it. Miss Lucy Smith, a maiden lady living alone, came to our house and told my mum that she was worried that the Germans might come and take her possessions. My mother told her that she could bring them to our house (the police house) and Miss Smith said that her treasures were her budgerigar and a roll of new lino. She knew that the Germans would not dare touch them if my dad was looking after them. My mum told me that if the Germans came we would go north as soon as possible. I remember shopping in Hitchin one day after the market had been moved from the Market Place because of a large water tank. There were Free French sailors selling 78rpm records of Jean Sablon's Sur le Pont d'Avignon, I suppose for their charities. I still have mine. I seem to remember that they had been marooned with their ships here.

We began to hear of air raids and my dad cleared the little space under the stairs for a shelter. In August a large red London 'bus appeared full of evacuees and everyone went to help themselves. My dad was disgusted by this arrangement because the lesser children were left on the `bus. Hitchin police station had forgotten to tell him so it was happening before he got there. Luckily Lady Lloyd from Clouds Hill came along and she and my dad took command and found homes for all the children. Lady Lloyd, one of the nicest people I ever knew, took three little urchins home and she and the old cook bathed them, fed them and looked after them until proper family homes could be found. I thought that the evacuees were great fun; they were artful Londoners, far more streetwise than us. They called my dad 'the copper' and kept out of his way which made us laugh. Jack Barrett and Sid (name forgotten) stayed with Mrs. Barker who was everyone's friend and Jack was a great pal of mine. I can remember that Mr. Barker dug big carrots from his garden which he washed, scraped and gave us to eat. My brother, 5 years younger than me, was great friends with Georgie Parkhouse whose dad was a coster. Georgie lived with Miss Armitage, a maiden lady, who loved him dearly. After the war he came back to see her every year until she died.

I went to Hitchin to school in September, Offley School was pretty awful and I had fallen two years back with my work. My mum thought that Hitler might not now come, well, Mr.Churchill had told in no few words that we would fight to the death, and I think that we would have done so. I found the work so hard and it seemed that we were always writing patriotic poems. I liked country dancing (with a wind-up gramophone) until one of my partners, an evacuee girl, was so unhappy that she made a puddle, and I was embarrassed. I have never ceased to hate myself for that. I remember that we were dancing The Black Nag.

The Blitz was terrible. Offley stood very high and we could go into the garden and see London burning, the sky was red. A nice couple from London, Mr and Mrs.Frampton and their two children, would arrive in their car from London and sleep in our front room. They seemed to come quite often for a time. Eastbourne Grammar School was evacuated on Hitchin Boys' Grammar School and Bob Moore was billeted with us. We all liked Bob and I remember one night a bomb whizzed overhead and my parents, Bob and I dived under the table and my head collided with Bob's - ouch!

A lot of bombs fell in The Parish of Great Offley and in my father's 'beat.' Those that did not explode were brought to our house to await the bomb disposal crews. I remember a great pile of incendiaries under the rabbit hutch. Mr.Demetriadi who lived at Offley Chase 'phoned to say that an unexploded land mine lay on his back lawn near the back door. My father jumped on his bike and pedalled off towards Cockernhoe. Going down Luton White Hill he and 'bike fell into a bomb crater in the road. My father was knocked out but when he came round he rode on to Offley Chase to make sure that everyone was properly evacuated and guard the bomb to await the bomb disposal people. You did things like that then. I can remember my father's uniform covered in chalk. That night many bombs and mines fell across Lilley Hoo and surrounding fields and everyone (except me) dined off rabbits killed by the blasts. It must have been about this time that my father was cycling towards Preston to cover for another policeman when a Mescherschmitt 109 covered in flames roared over the hedges and just above his head and crashed into the field a short distance away. My father had dived into the ditch, he ran over to the plane but was unable to get near because of exploding ammunition. Luckily the pilot had baled out and was safe.

One night a Dornier bomber on fire came over Offley and some of the crew baled out. One came down in Mr. Fred Cannon's garden in School Lane. My father had to go and get him and I was doing my homework. I can remember this smart pilot in the dreaded German uniform which we could all recognise from films and photographs. He was tall and fair haired. He seemed pleasant enough and had some English so we talked and my mother made him tea and a jam sandwich - which seemed to be standard fare at such times, perhaps that was all we had to give. A police car came from Hitchin to fetch him, I was quite sorry to see him go.
The bomber crashed at Pegsdon and my friend Ted and I cycled over to see if we could find any perspex. It was the next morning which must have been a Saturday. There it lay in a field near the road. We went over to it, looked in and it seemed empty, we jumped in, which now seems daft because it may have had its bombs on board, went up to the cockpit and looked in. There was the pilot slumped dead in his seat. We rushed out and as we climbed down a hand descended on my shoulder which gave me a great fright. It was the policeman from Shillington in Bedfordshire and when I gave my address as The Police House Great Offley he said something like "You'll be for it", and I was because I had to go with Ted to Hitchin police station to be admonished. My father told me years later that they all laughed because I looked scared to death.
That autumn we went gleaning for corn to feed our chickens. You could only go into a field when the farmer removed a stook (we called it a shock) in the middle. We were in the field near Birketts Hill when some soldiers started shouting at us to get out quickly. My mother thought they were asking for jam sandwiches but they were serious and kept pointing upwards. There were planes diving in and out of little clouds and of course it was a dog fight. Suddenly a German fighter tore overhead very low pursued by a Hurricane, we were out of the field like a shot and the soldiers told us to keep under the roadside hedges because the Germans would fire at civilians on the roads. That evening Ted and I took some jam sandwiches down to them and they signed our autograph books, I still have mine.

1941: Going to school on the service 'bus could be scary because if the air raid sirens went off the buses kept running, which now I find surprising. We took to sitting downstairs on the big double deckers because we thought that the top deck was vulnerable. We had to buy savings stamps at school and I used to take 2/- each week. I began to hate school dinners because we had so much rice. It would be coloured pink, yellow, orange and blue. My mother thought that they probably used the blue bag (for washing). We still had to write those patriotic poems and I remember Brian Waters in my class writing a splendid verse which ended "And when they saw our pom-pom guns they quickly ran away" which I thought very good and never forgot.
One day, Ted, who went to another school, was out cycling with his friends from school when they passed canvas huts by the road near Henlow RAF Station. They explored one and found it full of bombs so they all took some. Ted brought his home and hid them under the seat of his neighbours' outdoor loo. Mr. Lodge only came at weekends from London to his tiny cottage and actually used the toilet never suspecting the lethal package underneath.

Ted told me and I dared not tell my father but there was a hue and cry and all the police were looking for these bombs. I told Ted to get rid of them quickly so he took them to the pond at the top of Birketts Hill and threw them in. That summer we had a drought and the pond dried up, there was a circle of bomb fins sticking out of the mud and the bomb disposal team were called again. Cows regularly drank from the pond so it could have been messy. We daren't tell a soul.

All the gamekeepers had gone to war and we had the run of all the fields and woodlands although I never remember any wilful damage. Life for us was quite idyllic but there was sadness when we prayed in church for the latest casualties. Quite a lot of people went to church but they were mostly older men, women and us children. My dad had a reserved occupation so he was always somewhere around. Barrage balloons were often breaking loose and we had a number float over or even come down in the village - perhaps they couldn't get over us on our big hill. We had one of the few telephones and I became good at advising Hitchin police station of accidents and balloons. etc. The Vauxhall lorries were always on the main road and now there were tanks out on test as well. Their track pulled up the 'cats eyes' in the road and we had to collect them and pile them up at the crossroads.

There was a lot of social life. In 1941 some of us 'police children' were allowed to sell raffle tickets at the Police Ball at Hitchin's Hermitage Hall.
My dad was a fantastic dancer and I was really proud of him and thought him as good as Fred Astaire. I remember the German invasion of Russia and everyone being so relieved and saying 'at least they have gone that way'. Not much fun for the Russians. though. Now we had to love the Russians who up till then had been viewed as near enemies because they had befriended Germany; they too had invaded Poland. I remember some Russians in Hitchin Market Place with a big red flag and I suppose it was another savings push. My father was unhappy about the flag.

We were now so into war that my memory now sees everything as normal which it was not. Food was difficult and I remember the police children's party at Tilehouse Street Baptist Church Hall where we had parsnips boiled in pineapple essence in our jellies. It was quite good. Then the Japanese attacked Hong Kong and Malaya, we followed the campaign on our school maps as the Japs approached Singapore, our great naval base. The Prince of Wales and The Repulse were sunk which was poignant for us because my auntie's neighbour's son was on The Repulse. When Singapore fell I think it was the lowest point of the war, I listened to the ABC (Australian Broadcasting Commission) transmissions on my big radio and used to tell my teacher the latest news. There was a bonus for me though, no more rice came so the dinners were a bit more acceptable though some horrors at school assured us that we were eating cats and dogs.

Brian鈥檚 story continues as 鈥淏rian Limbrick鈥檚 Wartime childhood 1942 to 1945鈥� (reference A6336641)

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