大象传媒

World War Two

I was nearly 12 years old on September 3rd 1939 when our family sat round the wireless set in the front room and heard the Prime Minister, Mr Chamberlain, telling the nation we had declared war on Germany. Almost immediately the air raid warning sirens began to wail. We went out into the garden and tried to see the German planes in the sky. It was a false alarm
I had expected to start the autumn term in the 2nd form of Selhurst Grammar School on 12th September. Instead the school was evacuated, I remember being part of a crocodile walking from the school to the local railway station, and we had a case with all our belongings for the moment and a cardboard box for the gasmask. Somewhere my sister (13) was also on the platform but we did not see each other 鈥� she was in the girl鈥檚 school, separated from the boys of course. We did not know where we were going, if the staff knew they did not tell us.

In fact it was Brighton. I was billeted with Geoffrey Warrington, a lad of my age I had not known before. We had been billeted with a local solicitor who lived in Hove, He had a Jaguar motorcar and seemed to be pretty affluent.
We shared school premises with the Brighton, Hove and Sussex Grammar School for Boys. They had the mornings and we had the afternoons. Throughout the war there was a 鈥楤lackout鈥�. No buildings could show lights at night, cars had to reduce their headlights to a narrow slit and streetlamps were off. When winter came it was dark well before school finished and we were organised into groups billeted in the same areas and escorted most of the way by adults, probably masters. After a few months our host decided that public spiritedness had its limits, or we were a damned nuisance, and we had to go.

We were moved on to a family living in a flat in central Brighton. They had no bath and sent us to the public baths once a week to get clean. I remember a young chap in the family who took us to the downs and showed us how to make a snare for rabbits. I don鈥檛 know if they worked. This was a temporary billet and we soon moved on to a bungalow in Shoreham, the other side of Hove.
Our host there was a young fireman, a reserved occupation at that time. His wife I recall mainly for her dumplings, frequently served up as part of the main meal of the day. They were awful. Whenever possible we both slipped them into a handkerchief and disposed of them outside.
H.M.S. King Arthur, a stone frigate or shore establishment, was sited on the front somewhere. It was the training establishment for new naval recruits. It moved soon after, [it was in Wiltshire when I was called up in 1946].

The school was pretty much like the building we had left in Croydon and we were taught by masters from our own school. At the end of summer term 1939 several ancient teachers had retired, with eulogistic speeches and token presents. They reappeared at Brighton, needed to replace young masters who volunteered for the services or were called up.
It seemed odd (and therefore inferior??) that this school did not play rugby, this is the only time in my life I played soccer. Our senior master, Mr Wheeler, was a dignified man who taught history. He was generally known as Poofong because he cleared his throat with a similar noise. One day he gave a serious patriotic address to the whole school at assembly starting and repeating frequently, the phrase 鈥淭oday is Trafalgar Day鈥� I think it was intended to raise morale 鈥� his or ours?

I saw my sister occasionally, she and her friends were at an age to regard me and my friends as little kids and not very interesting. My parents came down a couple of times and took us into town for a meal and chat. My big brother (8 陆 years older) came to see us, he was near the end of a dentistry course and when he finished was made a 1st lieutenant in the Army Dental Corps. I was quite proud to be seen with him. While he was still a student he joined the L.D.V. or Local Defence Volunteers, this was the precursor of the Home Guard. I don鈥檛 know what they did, but I know he used his Austen 7 for it and adapted it so that it could not be started without knowing about the special switch he had fitted. (In case of invasion)

The bungalow at Shoreham was on the edge of downland. There was a disused railway line nearby, a favourite area for exploration, we never did find out where it went to. There was a newly built church nearby 鈥� Bishop Hannington and I joined the choir there. I can鈥檛 remember why, was it boredom, or because there were girls there or a search for something spiritual?

The war went badly. By the spring of 1940 there were Germans across the channel in France. I don鈥檛 believe I thought about the war much, I certainly never considered the possibility that we might lose it 鈥� I was young then! I can鈥檛 recall anyone discussing this scenario, were adults as optimistic as me or were they sparing us the agony? There were propaganda posters about with slogans like 鈥淚 am not interested in the possibilities of defeat 鈥� they do not exist鈥� Also anti 5th columnist 鈥淐areless talk costs lives鈥�. However, after Dunkirk, it was recognised that the south coast was not the place for masses of children.

We were re-evacuated. Again we were not told of our destination. It was a long journey (steam train of course) after several hours we arrived at---Bideford. We processed from the station, across the bridge to the townhall. A reception was laid on for us, we were grateful for the refreshments. The mayor, I think he was a Mr Braddick, gave a welcoming speech in a broad Devonian accent, the first time I had heard it, to my shame I thought it strange, amusing and even primitive. [I was only 12 years old then and hope I may be forgiven] Geoffrey had not re-evacuated, he had returned to Croydon. I was paired up with Martin Maycock. A little old lady approached us and said something like 鈥淲elcome me dears, I鈥檓 Mrs Bartholomew, everyone calls me Mrs B, Youm going to stay with us.鈥� And we did, for the next two years.
Their home was a small terraced house in Victoria Road. It had one tap, in the kitchen. There were two bedrooms, a front room or parlour used for special visitors and homework, and games on Sundays. There was no bathroom. The loo was outside the kitchen door in the small concreted yard, but it did have a flushing cistern. Once a week we went to the other end of the road where Mrs B鈥檚 daughter lived. She had married a builder who had added an extension, including a bathroom to their end-of-terrace house. They also had an evacuee from our school, but as he was in the 6th form we had little to do with him. Much later I discovered him in Ilfracombe, he was then our dentist, Stewart Tucker.
Martin and I slept in a double bed. Mrs B would bring us some hot water in a jug and we poured it into the bowl on the washstand. In cold weather we were given a stone hot water jar each. There was no electricity. The wireless worked on a battery and an accumulator, this had to be recharged regularly at an electrician鈥檚, shop
Next door at No.3 was very scruffy with peeling paintwork, we never saw the owner and were told she was 鈥渞ather strange鈥�. On weekdays the milkman went along the street with a large milk-churn on his two-wheeled horse drawn cart. Most of the housewives along the road came to it with their jugs to fill from a tap at the base of the churn.
Most Sundays we played card games in the front room. There were four of us and we were taught whist and progressed to auction bridge, an early form of the game rarely played now. Later I found it was a useful basis for the current version, contract bridge which I played some years after. Sometimes we played 鈥榮lippery Anne鈥� also known as 鈥榟earts鈥� or 鈥榖lack widow鈥�
Mr B worked at the high class grocers then in the High Street. He had been a batman during World War One and told us he had to shave some of the officers because they did not know how to shave themselves! I suspect we got some 鈥漸nder the Counter鈥� rationed food from the shop. If so it was never mentioned to us. Mrs B served us with laver a few times, I was not impressed. There was also Tay fish, a flat fish heavily salted, and brawn, made from pig鈥檚 head
At that time there was a slaughterhouse, I think it was in Silver Street, just down the road from us. Some of us went along the street and saw the processing of cows to carcasses, not a pretty sight. Twice during the time we were there I saw an escaped cow running in the town round the market, folk rapidly took cover in doorways or smaller streets. We went to the pannier market and saw, as I remember it, stout old ladies dressed in black sitting by their baskets selling all manner of things, mainly farm produce. Mrs B did a lot of the week鈥檚 shopping there.
Victoria Grove is a turning off Meddon Street and a little further up was 鈥淭he White House鈥� which Mrs B spoke of sometimes. It was the workhouse where old, infirm and poor people were looked after. Mrs B expected to spend her last days there.
Martin was 鈥渁rts鈥� inclined. I was not. Latin was my weakest subject and it was a matter of mutual relief between the Latin master and myself that I was able to drop it at the end of year 3 in favour of more science. However, Martin was good for me in as much as he did homework as a matter of course and I found myself doing the same. Thus I survived exams.
The schooling arrangements were different to Brighton. The two schools occupied the same buildings at the same time. This was Bideford Grammar School. I suppose it did not have as many pupils as it could have taken before we came. It was crammed after we came, but somehow we managed with very little friction. The wooden sports pavilion and an odd cupboard were used as classrooms.
I think the Staff had been briefed to keep us occupied out of school hours. There was an out of hours chess club run by our maths teacher, Mr Katz, he was called Pussy (when he was out of earshot). Here I learnt to play the game and was given a lifelong hobby.
There were various expeditions within the area. It was supposed that we would each make a 鈥淏ideford Notebook鈥�, but there was little pressure to complete it and I didn鈥檛. We were taken to Bloody Corner near Northam. Here there was an inscription, something like 鈥淪top stranger stop, for near this spot lie the remains of King Haakon the Dane and (a lot) of his men slain in a bloody retreat鈥� In those days the word 鈥楤loody鈥� was rarely displayed publicly, so I remember it . There was a trip to the local fire station where one of their engines had solid rubber tyres, this seemed a joke to us, but a fire officer told us with pride that it came into it鈥檚 own during the air raid on Exeter because it had no problems with streets full of shattered glass. Some of us had stood on Bideford Bridge and gazed in awe at the glow in the sky when this city, some 40 miles away, was blitzed. We had coach trips to Barnstaple where some of us took swimming tests in the open air baths at Rock Park. The attendant at that time was a Mr Lock[no relation] It was curious to have a certificate stating that R Lock had swam whatever distance signed by Mr Lock. We also had school trips to Ilfracombe, to Hartland and to Clovelly.
The school put on a public rendering of 鈥淭he Revenge鈥� by Alfred Lord Tennison. This poem had been set to music, we had a choir which gave a fine rendering of this exciting piece which mentions 鈥淏ideford in Devon鈥� Those whose voices were thought unsuitable were formed into a verse speaking choir to give the audience the words in case the vocalists diction was unclear. So I learnt this lengthy poem by heart and still remember most of it more than 60 years later!
At Christmas there was a school concert. I took no part, but Martin was one of the stars. He won the Spelling Bee contest as well as writing and taking the leading part in several sketches. One playlet, after the Germans had invaded Russia, included the lines 鈥渁nd then the Germans must go鈥� [mispronounced Moscow] the sort of humour our age group liked 鈥� Teenagers had not been invented then. Martin had a phase when he went round the house spouting the poem 鈥楪ood Gnus鈥� which I picked up subconsciously and many years later passed it on to my children.
The school had a violinist to play to us in the hall one day. I now suppose he was a refugee of international repute, but at the time I and many of the boys were not appreciative.

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