大象传媒

1938-1939
By the Autumn of 1938, preparations for War were afoot. Observing the Germans' strategy, modelled upon that of the Spanish and Italian Fascists at Guernica and in Ethiopia (in which units of the Luftwaffe unofficially took part) of terror-bombing of cities, or of more legitimate targets with no regard to civilian casualties, the British Government prepared plans for sending children away from cities and towns if war should be declared. Several official leaflets on this subject are to be found in my archives.+ One can imagine the feelings of my parents as they contemplated sending me away whilst they remained in the danger-zone.
Plans for the removal of children from London were already in hand in September 1938, and Ralph's Kit noted at that time listed Raincoat, Blanket, Wellingtons, Shoes, Gym shoes and togs, Shirt, Vest, Pants, Stockings, Hankies, Towel, Pyjamas, Hair Brush, Tooth Brush, Toothpaste, Money, 6 Postcards, Prayer Book, Diary, Autograph Book, Playing-cards, Mouth-organ, String, Torch. On a memorable day, Tuesday September 27th 1938, I went with my father up to Devonshire Hill School to be fitted with gas-masks. There was a strong smell of new rubber, and there were trestle-tables piled with cardboard boxes, and folk taking names and giving us the correct sizes. The ordinary civilian gas-mask had a single window in front, and straps which went over the head. One breathed in through the metal filter in front, and when breathing out the valve shut and the air escaped under the edges of the rubber where it made a seal with one's cheek. Warnings were issued that the masks should not be tested by putting one's head inside a gas-oven, as they were not designed to deal with coal-gas, but some folk, unaware or forgetful of the warning, did so with fatal consequences.
The gas alert was to be signalled by the sound of large wooden rattles, as used by football-supporters, carried by the Air Raid Wardens. The handle held a spindle armed with cog-wheels, about which, as it was swung around, a frame holding sprung flat wooden strips rotated. As the ends of the strips were raised and released by the teeth of the cog-wheels, they produced a loud clacking.
Pamphlets describing the various characteristic smells of the gases which might be used against us, and warnings about contamination by mustard-gas, were also issued. It was said that one spot of mustard-gas, falling on the toe of one's boot, could rapidly penetrate to the foot and prove sufficient to cause death.
The civil-defence masks, for Air Raid Wardens, Police & Firemen, were of much thicker, moulded rubber, and the exhaled air escaped via a valve which protruded like a little black tongue just between and below the two goggle eye-pieces, blowing an effective raspberry, whilst the serviceman's mask was of tougher construction, a sort of moulded rubberized canvas, and had a tube leading down to a flat filter-canister worn in a satchel on the chest.
Once during the War, we all had to return to such a centre to have a special extra filter attached to our masks, equal in size to a large shoe-polish tin, designed to deal with toxic smokes.
At the outbreak of War, we were advised to carry our gas-masks at all times, and at first we carried them in their cardboard boxes as issued, about 7"x 5"x 4" deep, with a string over the shoulder, but folk soon began buying or making thin canvas covers for the boxes, with a canvas shoulder-strap. Perhaps the official thinking was that the population must be protected against the use of poison gas, and that if the enemy knew we were prepared he would be deterred from deploying it. In fact, it was never used in that War, either against troops in the field or against civilian populations, so the only casualties were those who were foolish enough to test them with coal-gas.
Planning for the Evacuation of children from London and other cities was already in hand. On Monday 26th September that year my mother attended a parents' meeting at my school, and received a form to be signed and details of clothing and other articles I must take if the call came. The Evacuation Number of Tottenham Grammar School was 6339, and the Master-in-Charge was our Art-Master, Mr. Wright. I listened with my father to a speech by Neville Chamberlain at 8 p.m. on the 27th, the news being that Hitler announced his desire to annexe all those parts of Czechoslovakia which had populations of which over 50% were Germans, and on the following day I went to school with my gas-mask and my case packed in readiness, but whilst he was speaking at the Opening of Parliament, Chamberlain received an invitation to go to Munich for a four-power conference, and on the 29th he came home with a Peace Declaration signed by himself and Hitler. Two days later, October 1st, at 2 p.m., German troops entered Czechoslovakia.
On December 8th the Air-Raid Sirens were tested. At that time the sound was merely of novel interest. In my chapter entitled The Blitz is a more detailed description of the sirens and the effect they came to have upon us, and they can be heard on the recording mentioned on Page 35 in my chapter on Radio.
On April 16th 1939 deliveries of Anderson Air-Raid-Shelters began. They were about eight feet long by six wide, of corrugated steel, delivered in sections. The recipients were instructed to dig a hole in the garden about four feet deep, and pile the excavated earth on the top. The door-aperture, in the middle of one end, usually faced the house or a substantial wall which might afford some protection from blast, and was also protected by an upright sheet of the corrugated steel backed by a mound of earth. The Andersons were of course vulnerable to a direct hit, even of a small (100lb) bomb. It was surprising how many people grew marrows on top of their garden shelters that year. We were not eligible to receive an Anderson, I think because my father was paid monthly (salary) rather than weekly (wages), although he received less than many wage-earners. In 1954 I used some of the tall shelter-sections with half-circular-curved tops to make a narrow lean-to shed down the side of my Batley concrete garage at 34 Felstead Road.
On Saturday 26th August we returned home from our fortnight's holiday at Pagham, and discovered that schoolchildren had all been to their schools on that day for evacuation preparations. I went to school on my birthday, the 28th. We heard that Hitler was demanding the occupation of Danzig, and we were at school again the next day. I wrote, School again. Had film show, half-an-hour's break, and mucked about. Afternoon, ditto. We just sat in our desks, minded by a prefect, and amused ourselves as best we might. I suppose the staff were all engaged in the details of our evacuation. It was the towns which were to be evacuated, (emptied), but at that time, with violence to the language, it became common to say that the children were evacuated, a nonsense which spread quickly into the common parlance and has sadly so remained.
On September 1st Germany invaded Poland. I was sent as an evacuee to Danbury, near Chelmsford, my mother went to the friends at Twyford, and my father's office was moved to Valence (Ph2,29), the country house of boss Ronald Vestey (A1,58; A2,22) near Westerham in Kent. On Sunday September 3rd, War was declared.

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