´óÏó´«Ã½

I was 13 years old when the war was declared, my family came from Streatham, South London. My sister Joan who was 8 at the time and I were evacuated on the Friday before war was declared on the Sunday. On the Friday night we spent the night in West Worthing school hall. My mother told us —‘don’t get split up’ — we were all upset that this had to happen.

The Saturday morning when we got up, we were paraded round the streets by the teachers and eventually a couple took us in and we shared a bedroom together. War was then declared on the Sunday.

The couple had a teenage daughter but we didn’t really socialise together — they were very religious. They had tandem bikes which they used to go round on, and we weren’t allowed to go with them or even allowed in the house. When we got in from school (which was the local dancehall above a shop) — we had to stay in the bike shed until they got home from work.

The first summer that we were away, my sister contracted sunstroke which then turned into diphtheria. She went to the isolation hospital at the top of the Downs, and our family came down to see her in a private car (like a taxi), which would have cost them a lot of money. My parents couldn’t come near us in case the diphtheria was contagious. Our room was then sealed, taped, fumigated, and all our bedding and clothes were burnt in the back garden.

Whilst my sister was still in hospital, I stayed with the family in Worthing. My mother then travelled down from London and took Joan back home. I was left there, still in the bike shed — one night I was so cold I broke into the front room — breaking some ornaments on the way — they were so cross I was then posted to another billet in Worthing.

This was an even worse experience, the lady had lost her husband on the beaches in Dunkirke, and she took in a couple of lodgers that turned out to be prostitutes in their early 20’s. We used to go out into the fields to look for food like greens, because money was so tight — we were desperate.

I heard nothing from my parents for a year, but when I did, they sent me down a train ticket to go back to London at age 14. I then got a job at the local butchers as a butcher’s boy. I earned 8 shillings a week, which increased to 10 after 1 month. 8 shillings wouldn’t even get you enough food — but we had ration books as well. In addition we bred rabbits to get meat and feed the family. We had our grandmother with her daughter who had TB living with us; she eventually died during the war. Our family was so crammed into our cottage that I slept on the couch.

I was called up/ conscripted at 18 and 1 month. I had the offer of being a miner, or going in the army - I decided to go in the army. I got a letter through the post one day, and had to go down to Croydon to have a medical, and eventually I went off to the army. I went sent to Fornbey, North Liverpool, having not been away before apart from being evacuated. I was petrified, all on my own, went up by steam train that took hours, from Euston Station. It was terrible up there in the army training camp. They decided that I was so malnutritioned that they needed to toughen me up — by sending me to a physical development centre in Hereford. When I got there I was under seven stone — purely from how bad it was in London — when I left the PT centre I was 9 stone, I put on 2 stone in 14 weeks! Our PTI used to stay in the same room as us, and get us up in the morning. We were only allowed to wear PT shorts only, no shoes, no t-shirt — and do exercises on the field at 5am. Then three meals a day, we used to have all the foods that were not available to other people, like steak, butter, cheese etc — to build us up and it certainly did!

I was then classed as A1+ (i.e. a six pack, in tiptop physical condition), and sent to the reconnaissance corp. - the emblem was a strike of lightening. You had to learn everything about army training — such as radio messaging, driving all armoured vehicles, mortars, and gunning, everything possible to do with the army. Luckily I was never sent abroad as I got appendicitis, which was operated on in Catterick general army hospital. Then, as I had to have convalescence, there was a big house in Yorkshire we all went to. I couldn’t do any more training.

I then was sent to toughen up again! This time to Scarborough, and because I was a butcher — they assigned me to be the camp butcher. By this time D-Day had started and the war was well and truly underway. A few months later, I was sent back to Catterick to retrain, by which time the war was coming to an end.

I’ll never forget once I was home on leave, and there was a complete blackout in London. I walked up the garden path to my parents in the Anderson shelter (a hole in the ground with a tin box, with two thirds in the ground, and the rest covered with earth. Half filled with concrete, we put boards across the concrete — you could only just stand up! We had electric lights, and just enough room for my mum, dad, sister and Nan to sleep). There was a plane overhead, and I thought it’d had been shot down — but it was a V1 bomber — a plane with no pilot and only just enough fuel to get to London and then plummet and bomb. My parents shouted to ‘get down’ because there was a green house all up the side of the garden; luckily it missed us and landed somewhere else.

During the bombing, Hitler also sent landmine bombs on parachutes that took out whole streets in London. I went past a crater once that had a bus in it! Later there was V2 rockets — which just landed any where which really caused some damage.

After the war was finished, I was home on leave, but had to go back to finish up my duties. I was so choked because on VE day, when all the celebrations were going on, I was stuck on Darlington Station on my own, I spent the night there. I was worried because I couldn’t have a shave the next morning, and that was an offence when in the army, so I went to the local barbers the next morning and asked for a shave!

After I finished my training, I was then sent to Southampton transit camp, and I thought I was going to be sent to the Far East. Everyone who was sent there was kitted out in green. But luckily, I got on a train, and eventually got on a ferry from Newhaven to Dieppe, and then a 24 hour train journey, ending up in Toulon, South France. We had to set up a transit camp next to Toulon harbour - which had been blown apart — for the troops coming back from Egypt. I was extremely lucky, as I was told to become a ‘batman’ — someone who looks after the officers who were coming home from Africa. I was then extremely lucky again as I was given the stores to look after and received stripes and became a corporal in charge of the transit officer’s stores, which was under canvas — not a building.

As I was in charge of the stores, I was responsible for the officers. I used to give them out 2 sheets, 2 blankets and a Tilly lamp — and then they signed for it and the batmen took it to their camp.

A boat used to come in from Cairo, we would load two trains up with supplies and soldiers, to go back to Dieppe, and then more soldiers would come back — at any time of day or night.

We took over another camp in Heare, S France — the old Vichy radio station that had broadcast propaganda during the war to England. I was there 18 months. Beautiful times, in a scenic place. We did have German prisoners, and we eventually got on with them and trusted them so much that they were in charge of the ferry to take us off the island.

We made friends with the German prisoners and discovered that they were just like us. I actually stayed in contact with one German.

I was posted to Germany after Southern France, Whippertal Urberville (?). I was part of the 14/20th Kings Own Hussars — mainly a Welsh regiment, they fought during the war with the Guerkas in the Far East - they wore crossed knives on their sleeves. I was put in charge of the armour stores, high explosives, bullets, ammunition etc. Believe it or not I got a throat infection, ended up in hospital by this time the unit had been dispanded and I was sent back to Catterick camp!!

I was offered a NCO’s post if I signed up for seven further years in the army to become a regular soldier, but I declined because it was in Catterick camp and the bad memories and being away from home for so long meant I didn’t want to.

I was sent to York, demobbed and sent home to carry on with my life. Went back to the butchers and then retrained in a bank stationery dept, and trained as a printer — and eventually took over the printing department in Peckham.

I think young people today would learn a lot from joining any of the forces. They would learn commeradeship, living and accepting other nationalities and understanding other cultures and ways of life.

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