大象传媒

Mrs Stroma Hammond
Childhood Memories of World War II
22 August 2005
I was 7 years old when the War ended. From 18 months to 3 1/2 years I was in Bath Orthopaedic Hospital, Coombe Park, Bath, Somerset. I remember, when the sirens sounded, that the shutters were pulled down over the windows along one side of the ward. It was just like night-time whether it was day or not. My family lived in Salisbury in Wiltshire. When they could visit me in hospital was governed by the availability of petrol and knowing someone who could find the way there as all the signposts had been removed in case the Germans landed in England.
Dad built an Anderson Shelter under the back garden. It must have been difficult as we were only a few feet above water level and the River Avon (a few hundred yards away) often flooded in winter.
We also had a Morrison Shelter in the living-room. The top was used as a table from which we ate our meals and at night my elder Sister and I slept under it on improvised mattresses and bedding.
I remember the barrage balloon anchored above the recreation ground nearby where we walked the dog. On one occasion, I heard the air-raid sirens going but, instead of going straight home as instructed, I saw my friend was frightened and saw her safely home first. Mum was very cross. The brick air-raid shelter built at the end of our small cul-de-sac made a wonderful play area for the children who live4in the street. It became a house, a palace, a log-cabin, a battleship, a tank, a prisoner-of-war camp and many other things as our imaginations took flight. The boys were obsessed with shinning up the old gas-lamp standard beside the shelter and climbing onto the roof to use it as a look-out post, before jumping the 7 feet or so to the ground again!
At school it was great, in my opinion at the time, as during air-raids the lessons were interrupted. We all trooped down to the playing-field behind the school and into the tunnels dug underneath. Rough wood benches provided seating and the teachers would lead us in sing-songs or simple games to pass the time. I really enjoyed this. Only as I grew up did I appreciate how difficult it must have been for the teachers.
Dad was in the Home Guard. He badly burnt his hands as a small child and consequently was unable to hold a gun in the manner prescribed by the Army Regulations. However, he was a crack-shot and the person who always was called out to settle the matter if a bull or cow had run amok as they were herded through the streets on the way to the slaughterhouse where he worked. I always felt safe with Dad around.
I remember when the small front garden was full of cabbages, tomatoes and carrots. Dad was a keen gardener and we never went short of vegetables. He kept chickens in the back garden and rabbits too, so we usually had eggs and meat from the rabbits to eat. My Sister and I used to have half a rasher of streaky back each with a dried egg omelette for breakfast before school each day. How I loved chewing the bacon rind as I walked up the road to school.

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My Maternal Grandmother came to be with my Mum before I was born. War broke out and her home in Dover was requisitioned by the Army and she never went back. I was 22 when she died. During the War Mum worked for the Inland Revenue and it was Gran who did all the cooking of our meals and was there when we got home from school. She found a recipe for making pineapple jam from a pumpkin so Dad grew the pumpkins and she made the pineapple jam. It was wonderful to me. I often wonder what happened to the recipe. Mum and Gran made lots of jam when there was a glut of fruit and bottled vegetables and pickled eggs and onions to keep for the winder.
Mum was a great seamstress and no clothing or material was ever wasted. My Sister's castoffs were adapted to fit me. Old woollens were unravelled. I loved doing that. I wound the hanks of wool around the back of two dining-chairs. I delighted in hearing the stitches `pop' as they came un-done and seeing the patterns disappearing as I pulled. Mum would then tie the hanks securely before washing them and then stretching them out to dry on an old board to straighten the kinks out of the wool before re-knitting it. She made us all wonderful Fair Isle jumpers and cardigans as well as hats, gloves, stockings and socks and swim-suits (ugh!) that sank to my ankles when they were wet. Dad would crotchet small woolly balls for babies and toddlers to play with. He learned to crotchet as an exercise to repair his burnt hands when he was young. At the bottom of the list, rag mats were made out of old bits and pieces. Never a shred was wasted. As a present one Christmas Dad made me a dolls-house out of an old orange-box he had got hold of. It was wonderful.
The thing I disliked most was listening to the news on the radio. I had to be quiet. That was very hard for me. Also, if we went to the "pictures" (cinema), I couldn't understand why Pathe News always consisted of fires being put out by men in tin-hats. I found it boring. I didn't realise for many years that this was relaying the details of the bombing of the big cities.
When the evacuees joined us at school, we locals were fascinated by the various accents of our visitors. I remember being particularly intrigued by an Irish girl called Rose and begging her to "say something" so that I could listen to her. We became firm friends and I was very sad when she disappeared and Mum told me she had gone back to live with her own Mum.
At the end of WariI remember the church bells ringing. I had never heard such a wonderful noise and they went on and on. Everyone was happy and smiling and parties were going on all over the town. It was so exciting. The lights were shining everywhere. I only remembered going out after dark by torch-light and the "black-out" was an every day occurrence for me so lights were also exciting and the singing and the laughter. There was a fancy-dress competition at our street-party and Mum dressed me up as "Little Bo Peep" complete with crook. I won first prize which was a doll dressed in knitted clothes.
Personally, I had a rather wonderful War. It is only with hindsight do I realise how lucky I was.

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