´óÏó´«Ã½

It is now more than sixty years ago when it all began, and I, like many thousands of young men, found it necessary to act, in any way we believed, to help the national cause. No doubt some of the detail will be hazy, but some memories will last to the end of my days.

The threat of a second world war had been in the air for some time with the rise of Hitler in Nazi Germany, whose ambition it was to conquer Europe and finally occupy England. The deciding factor came on 1st September 1939 when German troops, without declaring war, launched an invasion of Poland. The British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, sent an ultimatum to Hitler to withdraw his troops or consider Germany to be at war with Britain. No reply was received, and on September 3rd 1939 war was declared.

I remember listening to the speech on the radio at home with my family. My mother was upset at the prospect of another war. My parents had lived through the First World War, during which my father lost his hearing when a shell exploded near the trench where he was sheltering.

Local authorities were soon issuing public notices displayed on notice boards, shop windows, doors and any other vantage point, giving advice about ensuring all house windows were blacked out after dusk until next morning daylight, preparations of suitable air raid shelters in gardens, and the collection of gas masks for the civilian population. Blackout curtains were fitted to windows, and any light had to be switched off if a door was opened. Strips of sticky paper were fixed to the window panes to stop glass splinters if they were shattered.

My dad was advised that the safest place for an air raid shelter in our garden at Beaconsfield Road in Woodbridge, Suffolk, would be under the summer house floor at the top of the garden, away from the main house. My dad was upset, as the floor had only recently been covered in new concrete! However, we set to work breaking it up, and dug out a large trench about five feet deep and long enough to house the garden seat. Over a wooden roof structure we fixed corrugated iron panels and piled the surplus earth onto these for added protection. When the air raid sirens sounded, (a loud wailing noise) usually at night, we gathered our warm clothes and blankets and plodded up the garden path to relative safety. Lighting was by torch (if we could get batteries) or candles which flickered and waved in the draughts. The air raid alerts would often go on for several hours, until a long steady note signalled the ‘all clear’ - not much sleep, although it always seemed cosy and safe.

My dad was very deaf and would often say: "I think they’ve all gone over now mum shall we go back to bed?" The anti-aircraft guns would be banging away and there were heavier sounds of exploding bombs, but Dad could not hear! Mum would shout in his ear: "I’m not going back to bed yet its too noisy!"

The Home Guard was a civilian organisation for men either too young or too old for active service, and their duties were to guard public places such as gas works, water works etc. At this point I was too young for active service, so I enlisted in the Home Guard. We eventually had a uniform complete with tin hat and boots! A rifle was shared by the platoon members, but we had no ammunition to start with, until an issue of five rounds per man, to be handed in after each duty was carefully counted out by the officer in charge. We did some basic drills with broom sticks until the rifles came in!

My section was allocated a guard duty at a vantage point on Broom Heath in Woodbridge, overlooking the river Deben and Martlesham Creek. We had a ladder, and had to climb onto the flat roof of a building which stood very high up. The idea was to report any suspicious lights down in the valley, in case someone might be signalling to the German bombers overhead, on their way to London or other targets. It was often cold and sometimes wet. We usually finished duty at dawn, and one day we found the ladder had been removed and we could not get down! We banged on the roof until the owner shouted out about all the noise! My wife Margaret remembers these days too:

"On August 8th 1940, mass air raids on Britain began, and our lad was installed on top of a flat roof on Broom Heath, ready to repel the foe with his 1914-18 gun, five rounds of ammunition, gas mask, torch and binoculars at the ready. Alas, the only equipment needed was the first aid kit, when one member fell off the roof as an ack-ack gun fired!"

The Home Guard was a good introduction to service life and gave me some idea of what might happen if and when I ‘joined up’. At home, and all over the country, many young men were caught up in national demonstrations in support of the war effort, without really understanding the consequences.

At work (Eastern Electricity in Woodbridge), one by one the male staff was reduced when men enlisted in the armed forces. When Germany began bombing towns and cities in our country the desire to become actively involved took over. Following my 20th birthday on 8th February 1941, having explained to my parents my intentions, I went to the recruiting centre in Ipswich with two other local friends on 12th February 1941, and joined the army for the ‘Duration of the War’.

I was drafted into the Royal Corp. of Signals (I still have my form of ‘Attestation E531A!’), and given the army number which is still on the tip of my tongue to this day!

From the recruiting centre in Ipswich, I was immediately dispatched to Blackmore in Essex. We were all issued with a large kit bag into which everything needed was packed. Painted on was the man’s army number, name and regiment identity. The bag contained spare uniform, working denims, spare boots, shirts, vests, socks, spare forage cap etc. Also included was a handy pack called ‘the housewife!’ with spare buttons, needles, pins, thread and cotton, boot laces etc. Also, a hairbrush, comb, toothbrush and toothpaste, tin plate, two mess tins for food, a mug, knife, fork and spoon were all packed into the kit bag. If any room was left, we could carry a writing case etc. and personal things. A steel helmet covered the top of the kit bag, which was closed with draw strings.

My first army meal, at approximately 7:30pm on 12th February 1941, consisted of a thick slice of bread, some margarine, a lump of cheese, some beetroot and a mug of hot tea. The temporary camp was under canvas and it was freezing cold! In Blackmore, we underwent initial training in marching, firearms and signals communications, and then moved around to places in Kent, Somerset and Wiltshire.

The question of providing adequate and healthy food and water for any army has always been an important one - ‘An army marches on it’s stomach.’ The word ration is used to describe a means of supplying a fixed allowance of food to everyone in the armed forces, wherever they may be stationed. It represents a fair share of whatever food is available and takes into account the need for basic health standards. At all times, we carried a small supply of water in a water bottle as part of the battle-dress kit.

We each had two small ‘mess tins’ which fitted into each other and had handles at each end. These were used for solids and liquids, unless you were lucky enough to own an enamel mug! A ‘mess’, as described in the dictionary is ‘a group in the armed forces who eat together’, or ‘untidy confusion’. I think the latter sums up the contents of the mess tin! Our metal knife, fork and spoon were often used for all sorts of jobs! Officers always ate in a separate ‘mess’ to the other ranks. When on the move, it was sometimes necessary to use ‘hard rations’. These were sealed tins issued to all men, and consisted of small hard biscuits, a pack of sugar and tea, powdered milk, glucose tablets, and a type of sweet biscuit which faintly resembled an extremely stale ‘jaffa cake’! A mess tin was used to boil water over a small fire to make a strange tasting ‘tea’! All very welcome if there was nothing else. A mobile NAAFI (Navy Army Airforce Institutes) canteen was sometimes available for mugs of tea and biscuits.

When we were housed in barracks or some form of ‘fixed’ buildings, supplying and cooking problems were more easily overcome. My unit, initially ‘No. 1 Company 8th Anti-Aircraft (AA) Divisional Signals’ was attached to the Royal Airforce (RAF) at Rudloe in Wiltshire. We were allocated a large nissan hut, with beds on wooden blocks.

We did have the use of a small radio set, but as the site was under trees, it would only work if we carried it outside. Once, it got left out all night and did not work at all after that!

Discipline was paramount, and when we had normal (hard!) beds, they had to be ‘made up’ in regular fashion, blanket folded, and other kit laid out to order - not to mention the shiny boots, buttons and helmet etc. No wonder I am still fussy when it comes to this kind of thing.

Our tasks involved relaying plots of enemy aircraft to Anti-Aircraft batteries.

If and when we had any spare time, someone was always able to produce a pack of playing cards. Games such as ‘pontoon’, ‘whist’, or straight gambling with ‘banker’ were quite popular. Only very small amounts of money were available, so any winnings had to be goods such as cigarettes, bars of soap, razor blades or chocolate rations. Even a spare pair of socks were seen to change hands! As I did not smoke I always traded in my cigarette ration for a bar of chocolate - that suited me very well!

Whilst in Rudloe, we were badly shaken one weekend when we plotted a large formation of German bombers, heading directly for the nearby city of Bath. They caused extensive damage and many civilian casualties. The following day we were drafted into Bath to assist in the rescue work.

In October 1942 I was posted to Company Head Quarters in Bristol. One day I had a call from my sister’s husband, who was also in the same area, serving in the Royal Army Service Corp. He told me he was going to Woodbridge on a 48 hour leave pass and asked if I could go with him. I applied for a pass, but as I had a period of leave coming up (to be married!) I was not due for any more! I just could not turn down the offer, so I planned with the lads in my hut to make up my bed for me, and next morning fold it all up and lay my kit out as we always had to do. I found a fairly low wall to get over, met my brother-in-law in the early morning (about 5am), and off we set to Woodbridge - a long journey of about 300 miles I believe.

On arrival I went to my fianceé Margaret’s house, but found she had gone on a picnic with some friends across the river Deben. Sometime later she arrived home and was more than surprised to see me! After a couple of hours together I had to leave to meet up with my brother-in-law and start the long trek back to Bristol. It was a night journey and we got there in the early hours of the next morning. I found the low wall again and quietly slipped back into my hut before it was time to go back on duty. The bed was made up and no-one was any the wiser! I spent some of my chocolate ration on the lads who had helped and we all lived ‘happily ever after’! I really needed my breakfast that morning. It was all rather risky but well worth it to see Margaret!

Shortly after this, I came home for a few days - on leave this time - when Margaret and I were married at St Mary’s Church Woodbridge on 3rd October 1942.

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