大象传媒

The war was being fought during my early years at Fairlight School. There were no school buses in those days, so everybody walked. Joan Gotts used to call for me first and then on to David Emary who lived next door. We then went on to the Morton family where more often than not we had to wait for Ruby鈥檚 long hair to be brushed and put into ringlets, and a large white ribbon tied in her curls.
One morning David and I had ran ahead of the main group whilst going up Waites Lane. I could see That my mother was standing at the back of our house calling and waving. So I waved back. Mrs Emary was doing the same thing. They seemed frantic about something but I could not hear or see why. All of a sudden a German fighter plane swooped from behind us turned over the field and started firing at us. The bullets ricocheted off the road about fifteen feet away from us.
鈥淕et down!鈥� Davis shouted.
We both 鈥榓s one鈥� dived into Mr Harper鈥檚 fir hedge as the aircraft made a turn and came round for a second time, again pelting the area with shots. We both went right through the hedge and into a flower bed on the other side. Mr Harper , who was an ARP warden, was having his breakfast with Mrs Harper in their veranda. He appeared at the door and shouted for us to stay where we were until the Hun had gone. Eventually he helped us to our feet. We were covered in mud and the dry brown foliage and twigs of the Leylandii trees through which we had dived. We were both scratched but none the worse for the experience.
Once the air-raid was over, Mr Harper promised to tell our Mums that we were unharmed. Joan and Ruby and the others had taken refuge in the short driveway to Mr Harper鈥檚 garage which was a few yards down the road and well hidden by some fir trees and a hedge, so 鈥楯erry鈥� could not see them.
Mrs Harper brushed us down and our anxious Mums could see us across the field, so all was well. What sort of enemy would expend so much zeal to kill two small school children , we must have been only seven and five years old ? Not just a passing shot, but at least two attempts!
Soon after I started school two Anderson shelters were provided for the school. They were built in the school house garden , just about four feet from the wall. A small doorway was knocked through from the infants class-room and every time the air-raid siren went off, we went through strict drill of standing beside our desks and then marching briskly in single file.....no running.....into the shelters where we remained until the 鈥榓ll clear鈥� sounded.
Some of us had a favourite spot, a sort of den in the dip of the field opposite the church wall where the post-box was inset, right in the corner where Shearers鈥� garden met the school grounds and the road. It was a kind of nest because we had worn the grass to a polished straw in the summer warmth and there were patches of fine dark sandy soil showed through in places. It was lovely, as we could hide a little and be sheltered from the wind as well. One warm sunny lunch time Mrs Carden blew the air-raid signal whistle (probably three prolonged blasts, I can鈥檛 remember). I saw Mrs Carden blasting the whistle and indicating to 鈥榞et down鈥�. We lunged for our den. Our instructions were to drop to the ground and to pretend to be dead. I can still remember the smell of the earth and the smooth straw-like grass on my face as all hell was let loose around. The noise was dreadful. We seemed to be laying there for ages. When it was all over, it transpired that the Hun had got the church. They had tried to 鈥榞et鈥� the school but being such rotten shots had missed us and shelled the church roof. My Mother recalled the ARP warden running up the road shouting..........
鈥淭hey鈥檝e got the school.....They鈥檝e got the school!鈥�
The next morning we all crocodiled across the road to the church to thank the Good Lord for sparing us. It must have been a dull day because it was very dark inside. I stood with Joyce and her sister Audrey, who was an awful giggler. To illustrate just how small we were, our eyes were just level with back of the pew in front. I do not think I had been into the church before because I was most impressed with the beautiful stained glass windows. We all thought it was very spooky. We were told to kneel down to pray but of course we could not see what was going on. So we piled the hassocks up, one on top of another, which wobbled and we fell off....... and then we were in trouble, once again, for giggling in church.
A little service of thanksgiving was taken by the Reverend Northridge, and a hymn sung...... probably 鈥楨ternal Father, strong to save鈥�. We then clustered in a group to look at the damage. There were several shell holes in the roof and damage to the font area. Some pews were broken and holes in the floor where the shells had landed. Also the west window was damaged.
One afternoon I was kept in after school. Our last lesson had been leisure activities and my friend and I had lost the dice from the game we were playing. I was told to keep looking until I found it. Why my friend wasn鈥檛 made to stay behind as well I don鈥檛 know. I was really very anxious, because it was a long way to walk home and usually we all walked together. So I was really distressed when still I couldn鈥檛 find the dice. In a child鈥檚 mind of course it seemed like hours passing. The school had fallen silent which I had not experienced before and fear was beginning to brew. Mrs Coates eventually came to help me look. She pulled the desk round sideways and this wretched little dice was hidden underneath the foot rest that spanned the double desk. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and missiled out of the school gate.
I could hear distant explosions as if an air attack was going on some way off, so I ran all the way down Battery Hill. The noise seemed to be getting nearer. I turned into the path that leads from Lower Stonelynk to the bottom of Farley Way. As I ran an enormous explosion happened. My nerve broke and I panicked. I ran like a scared rabbit into Mrs Ralph鈥檚 garden. I ran up the steps to her back door, but it was locked! I banged frantically but no-one was in. Another explosion! I fled down the steps and flung myself at a huge yew tree that grew just inside her gate. I remember hugging the tree and sobbing in absolute terror. The air-raid raged on. It seemed that there was no-one else left on earth..... I was totally alone! When there was a lull in the noise I made a dash for it. I must have looked like a demented daddy-long-legs as I came through the gate. My father was standing right up on the ridge of the roof looking across towards Romney Marsh. He was a builder so that was not impossible that he should be up there. It seemed that he was counting the aircraft that had been shot down. When I think about this event, the number 鈥榯wenty three鈥� always comes to mind, but my terror may well have enhanced the figure several times over.
On another afternoon there was an awful air-raid going on. When things had calmed down and the 鈥榓ll clear鈥� had been given, the teachers took us all across the road to the field there. We stood under the trees and looked across the valley to Pett where a bomb had dropped. It was the afternoon that Mr Whiteman........ Ann, George and Betty鈥檚 dad, had had a piece of shrapnel pass through his shoulder as he ploughed one of his fields. There was a pall of smoke rising over Pett, but I was too small to know the details.
Early one morning the postman knocked. My mother asked him what had been going on. Mum had watched out of the loo window most of the night because things didn鈥檛 sound anything like the usual air raids.
鈥淚t鈥檚 Hitlers鈥� pilotless planes鈥� he said
As they were talking one went over. It was quite low and looked like a simple cross with a flame shooting out of the back.
鈥淎 sort of rocket鈥� the postman added.
So yet another horror to contend with.
David and I set off to school as usual. Just as we reached the top of Battery Hill, one of these things came over. The Three Trees had a gun emplacement in the field overlooking Pett, neatly hidden from attacking aircraft heading for London. As this thing went over it was very low and the noise was horrendous. From out of nowhere a soldier swept us up in his arms, ran over and dropped us into the pit that the gun was in. We crouched down in a corner whilst another..... soldier loaded the huge Bofers gun with the biggest bullets I had ever seen. As the gun was fired the empty cartridges shot out the back of the barrel and on to the ground. The noise was stupefying. I don鈥檛 know if the doodle-bug was shot down or not. The experience in the hole was more terrifying than the flying bomb passing overhead. The soldiers did seem to care about the children always...... someone鈥檚 Dad no doubt.
We were afraid of doodle-bugs because we were told that if the engine stopped, they would not only crash land but could turn back on themselves and return to where they had just been! So if you saw one go over it could be back and heading just for you! The silence was one of the most fearful feelings imaginable. One afternoon during a games lesson, a flying bomb came over. It was very low indeed, in fact it was so low we thought it would not clear the trees surrounding the church. We stood and watched it because the engine was still going even though it was beginning to splutter a bit. The noise was dreadful, as if it was ripping the sky open as it went. Of course we were used to seeing them and all the time the motor ran, we knew we were safe. We listened as it went on its way. After a short while it stopped. The silence was awful.... until at last we. heard the thud of the crash. That was one that did not get to London as Hitler had intended. We often saw Spitfires and Hurricanes shooting them down. There was a knack to it because we did see the wretched things take one or two of our aircraft with them by blowing the plane up as well.
P.C. Crouch , our local policemen, visited the school regularly to warn us of the dangers, especially not to pick things up that we had not seen before. I particularly remember him bringing a dud Butterfly Bomb to show us. It was a bomb the size of a tin of baked beans on a stalk, with flaps. The flaps supposedly slowed down its descent so that it would not explode on impact but then when it was picked up. He was constantly telling us not to talk to strangers.
P.C. Crouch was a most imposing figure. He looked huge to me. He was tall, with dark hair and dressed immaculately in his black uniform and peaked cap. His boots were enormous and very highly polished. He walked in measured steps and all his actions were deliberate. Not a person to argue with. He had a very large black bicycle with a double cross bar through which he threaded his large Macintosh cape. He pedalled his bicycle with the same slow, deliberate precision as he did everything else. I was nearly caught by him one summer evening when I was 鈥榣ookout鈥� for the boys who were scrumping in an orchard in Lower Waites Lane. I saw him coming and made the agreed 鈥榟ooting owl鈥� signal for the boys, which was rather silly because it was far too early for owls to call. I ducked into a ditch and lay with my throat dry and eyes like organ stops, and my heart thumping so hard I felt sure he would hear it. He simply rode by with slow precise turn of his pedals. We had got away with it!
[Extract from 'School Memories', by Janet Turpin nee Dyer. I wrote these memories of Fairlight School from 1942 to 1948 some years ago. This is the chapter on wartime events.]

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