大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Kathy Woollett from Hastings Library on behalf of Joy Millbourn, copied directly from her written story, and has been added to the site with her permission. Joy Millbourn fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

A German parachute.

During one air raid we saw a parachute descending. As it got close to earth, we could see it was a German uniform. The German was kicking madly to avoid landing on a roof, one of his boots came off, he seemed to land in a field some 600 yards away. En masse people snatched up weapons, be they garden implements, pieces of wood or brooms. I think we imagined it was Hitler himself and destroying him would stop the whole nasty business. Fortunately the police got there first, but a neighbour of ours had been right at the front and returned stunned, 鈥淗e was just a boy, just a boy鈥� he muttered, adding 鈥渉e had holes in his socks鈥�. (I think all he鈥檇 wanted to do was get a new pair)

One morning, following two separate air raid warnings and all clears, came warning number three. I was standing at the back door about to run to the air raid shelter, but stopped due to the most horrendous noise; what was it? where was it?. Then a German fighter plane zoomed by, pilot clearly visible 鈥� I鈥檇 barely recovered from the shock when a spitfire followed at the same height. I stepped back inside, it seemed too dangerous to go looking for a shelter.

I remember being beside my mother when she was talking to a neighbour in the garden. A young man came along the alley way, he was sporting a naval uniform. He stopped and proudly told us he had got a ship and had a bit of leave before joining her. It was H.M..S Hood.

I also remember a woman walking up the road, tears streaming down her face; she had just got a telegram telling her that her husband had been killed. A mother who lived opposite, hearing her son in the Fleet Air Arm was missing, always hoping he would walk up the road. Another woman, I remember as a real comedienne, we loved it when we met her, as she always made us laugh 鈥� that is until her son, a pilot, was killed. From then on when we met her and there was the sound of an aeroplane, she would look up, smile and say 鈥減erhaps that鈥檚 my David鈥�.

One morning at school assembly, the head mistress announced 鈥淚 know you will be sorry to hear Patsy 鈥斺�榮 house received a direct hit last night鈥�. Not another word was said about the situation. We pupils didn鈥檛 mention it at all. It went round and round in my head, perhaps Patsy had gone to stay with a friend, perhaps --- but Patsy didn鈥檛 come to school again.

Lots of lighter moments of course.

Stirrup pumps were issued to deal with clusters of incendiary bombs which burst into flames. In order to avoid the flames the stirrup pump operator had to crawl, snake like, towards the bomb, holding hose aloft; her partner had to pump up water from a bucket into the hose. The women in our block of six terrace houses were called together for a trial run, Mrs L to crawl along with the hose, my mother to activate the pump. The pump didn鈥檛 respond to mother鈥檚 efforts, again and again she tried, to no avail. Mrs L thought perhaps the problem was at her end and as she turned the hose towards her, mother triumphed and, eureka, promptly drowned her partner! Pure Dad鈥檚 Army, I know, but this was long before that. It certainly lightened our day and we never had occasion to use the wretched pump.

We had to spend so much time in the Andersen Shelter, we often stepped out to stretch our legs during a break. I was 鈥渙ut鈥� with one of our neighbours, sounds of a plane, 鈥渢heirs or ours?鈥� Confirmation came in the screaming of a bomb! Self preservation motivated us, and we dived back to the shelter 鈥� but stuck fast 鈥� heads in, tails out! My mother grabbed my hair, pulled sufficiently to allow some movement and, like two corks, we popped into the shelter. The elderly lady, who also shared the shelter, snored loudly and continuously, yet declared she hadn鈥檛 slept a wink.

Women really came into their own

Once the Andersen Shelter was lined with concrete it stayed dry. We shared with the next door neighbours, and the two women made bunk beds for us. They also took on an allotment which first had to be reclaimed from its status as cattle grazing land. Digging it into a state where we could use it to grow vegetables was real hard work. It was also 陆 a mile away from home so we also had to carry all the tools etc. The irony being that when we had produced cabbages ready for consumption, the cows that had been dismissed to a neighbouring field broke through and ate them!

I had joined the Essex Troops Comfort Knitters when I was eleven, and made balaclavas, I still have my badge. I also have a souvenir badge my father sent me from France in respect of the Maginot Line. I was also a fully qualified shorthand typist at fourteen 鈥� starting work in London just before the war ended. When I went for my interview, the manager asked where I鈥檇 left my dolls pram.

Towards the end we heard of an Italian prisoner of war camp having been set up. There were two parks in our vicinity, one to our left, and one to our right. We preferred the one to the right, the camp was on the way to the one on the left . We felt we ought to check out the one on the left to see if it had improved, the footpath leading to the park now bordered the camp. As soon as we set forth a large crowd gathered the other side of the wire, they were the most good looking young men we had ever seen, dark curly hair and almost black eyes. Wow! We didn鈥檛 say wow when we got home but just quietly decided that in future the park on the left was top of the agenda.

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