大象传媒

My recollections start the day war was declared. The family was on holiday on the Isle of Wight and I remember that my father had to return home, leaving my mother with my elder brother and myself (aged 3) to make our way home at the end of the holiday. I remember my father telling my brother that he 鈥渕ust look after Mummy鈥�. Fortunately my father did not have to go into the forces because of his job but he did become an Air Raid Warden.

My next recollection was of the air raids. I lived in Surrey, on the edge of London, and so we did not have so many bombs dropped near us as those in central London. However, I remember some notable moments relating to bombing. One example was that a bomber was flying down the line of our road dropping incendiary bombs but where I lived was just after a bend in the road and so we were lucky that the pilot did not turn with the road. Another occasion was when a bomb dropped in a lane at the back of the last few houses in the road. We heard the bomb drop but it did not explode. Just as may father was waiting at the local bus stop in the morning the bomb exploded and he rushed home. Fortunately, it was far enough away that we did not suffer any damage. At that stage we did not have a shelter and so we would spend most of our night sleeping as best we could, in the cupboard under the stairs. This was because in most houses that were wrecked in the bombing, as opposed to receiving a direct hit, the staircase survived.

On some playing field near us they established an anti-aircraft battery. It was so near that we could hear the orders being shouted out and the noise of the guns was tremendous, or so it seemed to a small boy. On one occasion a shell landed in our road, 5 doors away and exploded but did very little damage. Later in the war the battery was closed down and the area converted into a prisoner-of-war camp, which housed Italians

The most memorable experience with conventional bombs was when we were going shopping one day. We were just about to set out when the air raid siren went off. It must have been during the school holidays as my brother and I were going shopping with Mum. We delayed going and waited for the all clear. This was a long time in coming and so Mum decided to go rather than wait. We were walking down the road to the shops, about a mile, when Mum saw an aircraft flying above us and passed a comment about the Spitfire. My brother, more into identification, looked and said that it was a Heinkel. As we looked up it dropped a bomb which we simply watched as it came down, completely mesmerised. The bomb dropped in the back of the house we were standing outside 鈥� but didn鈥檛 explode. We dashed down the side of the house to find a shelter and my brother nearly fell down the crater. We had gone into the wrong garden, so ran to next-door and sat with them in their Anderson shelter for a while. As there was no explosion we carried on our shopping trip. The bomb never did explode and was later removed.

Three days after the flying bombs started one landed on the house backing on to us on the far side of the next road. I will never forget the engine noise of the doodlebugs as they came over and we always hoped that the engine would not stop over us. We lost most of our roof, the ceilings came down and, much to my surprise, the front and back door both blew into the house. I understand that it is to do with the effect of the blast. My brother had recently been evacuated with his school and so my turn came and I was sent to the area where my brother was, Heanor in Nottinghamshire. After a small problem I was housed with a family there but was only there for a little under a year before I returned home. The family were very kind and generally I had as good a time as one could in the circumstances.

Two things in particular were a problem. One was that I become ill with scarlet fever and was sent to an isolation hospital at Belper. It was bad enough being away from home without the additional trauma of being hospitalised. We had porridge every day, sometimes so thick you could stand your spoon up in it, another time so thin you could almost drink it whilst it could be made with either sugar or salt. I have never touched porridge since! The other was one particular teacher at the school I went to. He had a dislike of the evacuees and called us 鈥渁 load of London sewer rats running away from a few bombs鈥�. I remember his name to this day. We kept in touch with the family with whom I was evacuated until the couple died. I even took my own wife and children to see them in the 1960鈥檚.

Rationing was a way of life during the war and for a while after. As a child the 4ozs of sweets was the normal amount. As I didn鈥檛 know anything different I didn鈥檛 feel deprived, although, as a chocoholic, the difficulty in obtaining chocolate of any sort was hard. The corner shop owner used to keep some under the counter when she could get it and she would occasionally let you have some as a favour.

When I returned home the flying bombs were still coming over and from my garden I used to watch the fighters either shooting them down or tipping their wings, to bring them down on Wimbledon Common which was not far away. When the V2鈥檚 came over we could just see the trail in the sky, but none landed near us. By then my father had build a concrete and brick shelter between us and the next-door neighbour which both families used each night. The next event of note was VE Day, which also happened to be my brother鈥檚 14th birthday, followed by VJ Day in August.

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