- Contributed by听
- CAMBERSANDS
- People in story:听
- BRYAN RENN
- Location of story:听
- HURSTPIERPOINT SUSSEX
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A8882913
- Contributed on:听
- 27 January 2006
In 1943, well into the war and after the main Luftwaffe attacks on the south east had finished, I was, aged 11, sent to a boarding school in Sussex. Apparently, my parents thought there was still a threat from the Germans and that I might be safer away from the London area. I had already passed common entrance to a school in Croydon and that was considered sufficient qualification for me to be accepted. Looking back on it I imagine that, in wartime circumstances, my new school was probably desperate to increase its numbers and willing to accept just about anyone who applied!
At the time, I was the smallest boy in the school and it therefore seemed odd that, on Day 1 and together with another "midget", we were given the daily tasks of putting up, at dusk, and taking down, in the early morning, a huge and heavy plywood blackout!
Compared with home, boarding school life was Spartan in the extreme. Food was in short supply and, although the caterers did their best, there was never enough. I remember the "luxury" of dry bread and mustard, "trage" - a mixture of treacle and margarine and the joy of occasional weekend visits to a downland cafe that served delicious boiled duck eggs, that were not rationed. Unlike today, there was no risk of children being over weight!
Hot water was rationed and we were allowed only 6" for our weekly bath, carefully measured against a statutory blue line painted right round the tub. Nevertheless, school tradition demanded that, every morning, before breakfast and whatever the weather, we had a cold shower. We were also not allowed to close the dormitory windows at night, even if it was snowing outside!
Because the younger staff were serving in the forces, most of the teachers were quite elderly. As a result, the prefects had far more authority than would be allowed today and some of them took advantage of the situation by administering regular corporal punishment. We accepted it as part of school life and, after every beating, would consider ourselves to have "gone up a rank" in army terms! A friend of mine had so many beatings that he reached the rank of Field Marshall! Despite this there was a very strong house and school spirit and every competition, be it sport, or otherwise, received vociferous tribal support.
As we had an active OTC (Officer Training Corps) many leavers would receive their commissions just a few months later and I remember the names of several being read out in chapel soon afterwards, having been "killed in action".
Being located in the south east and just north of Brighton, we saw a great deal of the build up to the Normandy landings. As D Day approached, more and more of our playing fields and the local countryside were filled with all kinds of armaments and military vehicles. Our campus was mostly populated by Canadians soldiers who were very friendly to us boys when we peered at their weapons and equipment and asked stupid questions. I have a fond memory of my first ever cup of coffee, served piping hot in a mess tin and brewed on the back of an enormous tank. It was served black, without sugar and tasted horrible!
When D Day eventually came the sight of thousands of Allied aircraft flying south towards France was unforgettable. The sky was filled with an amazing variety of aircraft for what seemed to be, and perhaps was, hours.
One evening during prep (homework) my housemaster called me to his study, when I immediately feared I was due to receive yet another reprimand. However, he informed me that my cousin Paul, who was almost 21 and a telegraphist on HMS Bluebell, a corvette escorting convoys to Russia, was missing, presumed dead, after the ship was torpedoed. Given the option of going to bed early or returning to prep I was very proud of myself for choosing the latter!
Looking back on my memories of over 60 years ago, I find it odd that I can recall so many events in so much detail whereas, nowadays, I often can't remember what happened last week!
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