大象传媒

This story has been contributed to the People's War by the 大象传媒 Learning Centre, Gloucester, on behalf of Doreen Cratchley with her permission. She was 10 when war broke out.

One day there appeared in the school playground two strange buildings, and the words 'air raid shelters' were whispered. Next, we were issued with small square cardboard boxes which contained strange looking things called 'gas masks'. Soon we were to have to have air raid and gas mask drills, then lots of children appeared and were taken into people's homes -'evacuatees' were new to us.

On the 3rd September 1939 I remember a small crowd of children standing by the Bat and Ball pub shouting: "War has been declared". What did it all mean?

Without knowing it we were all living through the wind of change which not only affected the whole world but our village -it was never the same again.

My father had been moved to Gloucester to work as a shunter in the goods yard and had become a special constable. We were told that in the event of an air raid the safest place was under the stairs.

I well remember the very first raid, we were we were sitting under the stairs listening to the bombs screaming down. Dad was comforting mum and me, saying "That鈥檚 miles away."

The next morning we emerged covered in whitewash to find seven bombs had fallen in close proximity. Fortunately, with no casualties, only the water main had been hit in the field by the railway track, the rest were large craters which were all inspected daily and wondered at.

We very quickly learned to recognise the sound of German bombers as they passed over frequently during the night on their way to the Midlands, but most noise came from many big guns situated around the area.

We had a tin roof on our kitchen and the shrapnel used to rain down, making an awful din. In the mornings I would go out and see how many of the jagged pieces I could find to take to school and boast about. We had rivalry to see who could collect most.

With the coming of the evacuees from St Anne鈥檚 School in Birmingham the village children had to change school hours. We went from 8am until 1pm and the others in the afternoon.

Evacuees were served lunches in the United Services Club by the WVS but many did not settle down and returned to Birmingham.

There were barrage balloon stations all around area and when the balloons went up, that was a sure sign that German aircraft were on the way. So it was straight home just as fast as you could.

One winter's day a German plane appeared very low from the clouds just as we children were leaving school, he dropped his bombs and machine-gunned people as they walked down Parton Road. Hurrans greenhouses were hit and disappeared into the earth and bullet holes appeared on several houses. It was reported that "he was flying so low that you could see the pilot", but I expect this was a big exaggeration.

News would come through of men reported killed or missing and although I was young I realised that the whole village would grieve with the families concerned.

Huts appeared on the corner of Brookfield Lane 鈥� who were these people who had arrived in our village? The word 'aliens' was whispered 鈥� not visitors from outer space as one as one thinks today but ordinary foreign people, some of whom may have lived in Britain for years. We children were instructed to keep well away from them. They were allowed to go out of the small camp, but strict dusk to dawn curfew was imposed.

Around about this time the village saw many changes. An army camp was set up on each side of Brockworth Road just past Mr Hopton's farm and in Kings Orchard. Men from the Pioneer Corps arrived.

Soon after strange objects appeared on the grass verges, they were made of tin, a drum base with a chimney on top of which stood a lid on legs 鈥� whatever were they? Well, we were soon to find out!

One moonlit night the bombers began passing over, and then came a strange burning smell the like of which we had never before experienced.

Clouds of black smoke started to billow from the chimneys of the objects in which crude oil was burning - smoke screens!

We knew at last, but to our cost the moon became a thing to dread as sometimes when they were going well, screening GAC or Rotol, the wind would change and in the mornings houses would be festooned with huge black cobwebs and our faces black from the smoke.

Consequently everywhere smelt awful from the crude oil and all the grass verges were burnt off. From time to time one would catch fire 鈥� then it was all hell let loose to put it out.

Not only the military caused excitement. Rumour spread that a film star by the name of Mary Morris had bought Mirfield House at the end of the The Avenue. I can鈥檛 say that any of us had ever heard of her and she certainly didn鈥檛 mix much in the village, but it made for some light relief.

One afternoon I was playing in the house when my mother came rushing up the path. "Get under the table," she said. This could only mean one thing and as she breathlessly joined me I could hear her praying "Oh God, don鈥檛 let it happen."

"What鈥檚 the matter, Mum?" I said, waiting for the bang. Slowly it dawned on us that minutes had passed and nothing had happened. We slowly emerged and on peeping round the side of the house saw the wing and tail of an aeroplane.

鈥淚 knew it was going to crash,鈥� said Mum, then we saw that it was lying only a few feet from us on the other side of the road.

Men were running from all directions and eventually the pilot and six ATC lads were brought out, very shaken but all in one piece. The pilot was a New Zealander.

Mum gave him a cup of tea and he sat in our front room until the RAF arrived. It appeared on take-off the plane, an Avro Anson, did not make any height, the wheels had not retracted, and on hitting the ploughed field an engine fell off. That slewed the plane sideways which was the one thing that saved it from crashing into our cottages. Someone was on our side that day.

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