大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Jabulani Chwaula from WM CSV Action Desk on behalf of Stanley Creames and has been added to the site with his permission. Stanley Creames fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

I spent the first fours years of the war as an 鈥渆vacuee鈥� with my auntie and uncle in the village of Elmore near Gloucester.

They were happy days, but towards the end of that time I became very homesick and eventually at the age of 11, I returned to be with my mother at our home in Ealing, west London.

My Father was in the army, training hard for what later became known as D-Day.

I went to school there, and recall practising air-raids drills going form class to class into the concrete shelters that were built on the school playground.

In our local park, Walpole Park, I watched a search light unit being set up, and nearby an anti-aircraft battery.

Very occasionally my Father came home on a weekend pass, but soon the army was on the move.

At night we slept in our Anderson shelter in the Garden, but it was cramped, damp and there were 鈥渃reepy crawlies鈥� too.

It had been relatively quiet for several weeks, so mum decided it would be safe to sleep downstairs in the house.

However, that very night she woke me up saying,鈥� Stanley can you hear that noise?鈥�

It was the drone of a V1 or doodle bug as we called them. Suddenly the engine cut out and for a few moments it was quiet.

My mother cried out, 鈥渙h the motor has stopped it will come down鈥�. The there was a terrific thump and an explosion. All the barricaded windows and every door in the house were blown inwards. Splinters of glass embedded themselves in the wall above my bed, just missing me and our conservatory was completely destroyed.

We learned later that the doodle bug had scored a direct hit on a large furniture store about 300 yards or less from our house, and most of the houses around had been damaged.

The air raid wardens came to see if we were alright, thankfully we were unharmed. It was a remarkable escape.

Gradually repairs were made, but for the rest of the time, until the war was over and beyond.

We had a constant reminder of what had happened to us, because we passed by the ruined furniture store almost daily.

I hardly ever saw my Father after he went abroad, but there was one occasion of compassionate leave.His mother (my Gran) became very ill. She lived in the next street to us, unfortunately before dad could get back home, she died. I can clearly see the sorrow of my mum and dad, as she broke the news to him.
They clasped each other in there arms, and grieved together. All too soon, when the funeral had taken place, dad had to return to his Unit.

As the was drew slowly to an end, we had to put up with the threat of V2 rockets ( which hit the ground before we knew there were coming), but fortunately for us, at least we were not bombed out again. Best of all dad came back home after the peace was declared, safe and unharmed.

Local V.E celebrations included street parties and on one special night, we went to the local park where singing and dancing went on until the early hours of the following morning, and I was allowed to stay up very late.

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