大象传媒

This story was added to the People's War site by a volunteer from 大象传媒 Radio Newcastle on behalf of Reginald Gibson Mayne. Mr Mayne fully understands the site's terms and conditions and the story has been added to the site with his permission.

In 1939 my father's younger brother Norman was in the Territorial Army, and in August he was called to the drill hall in Low Fell. When he came home he said he had opened two hundred cans of salmon, and followed this up with, if there was a war, he certainly wasn't going to spend it doing that.

I had recently had my ninth birthday when Kelvin Grove school re-opened after the summer holidays. On September 1st Germany invaded Poland and as a consequence Prime Minister Chamberlain declared that we were at war with Germany. Within a short time we were given beige haversacks into which our parents had to pack essential items of clothing, towels, soap and so forth.

The day came when the entire school lined up in pairs, each class with its respective teacher, and walked to Bensham station where a train was waiting to take us to Richmond, North Yorkshire. During the journey we ate our sandwiches and drank lemonade. We arrived at a council house style estate in Richmond and stood outside each house in turn in diminishing numbers, as the house occupants appeared and selected one or more pupils.

A lady of pale complexion with straight black hair chose me. On reflection it may have been because I had a rosy complexion and blond wavy hair by contrast. My foster mother came from Graz, Austria and I recall her telling her husband how her brother would take him to the rail station, for the Vienna Express and university. We were at war with her country, which now makes me wonder how this person was living in Richmond.

This lady's husband had a permanent tan and dark wiry hair. By his appearance he may have been Egyptian. He arrived home one day and called to his wife in an excited manner, with news of promotion. He was a captain in th eBritish army at nearby Catterick camp. At that age we did not know what leaving home for a new place meant. There were no scenes at our departure from Kelvin Grove school yard. From this time in my life my education was seriously disrupted. As a class we met in a church type hall for lessons in the mornings only.

Some adventurous evacuees went swimming in the River Swale where, unknown to them there were dangerous whirlpools. News spread of drowning. Any boy who had been in a choir could join Richmond parish church choir. The choir stalls could not contain us. Rehersals and the Sunday services were something familiar to us and gave us a focus to the week.

The anticipated bombing of Tyneside or anywhere in the country did not take place during autumn 1939, that was to come a year later. My mother and aunt arrived in Richmond and took me home. Gateshead in the late autumn 1939 and well into 1940 resembled the Bavarian town in the film "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." There was not a child to be seen on the streets which made me feel conspicuous and embarrased when I was out shopping with my mother. Only private schools were open and they were full to the capacity and overflowing. I did not go to school for about eight months until I got a place at Gateshead High School in the summer term of 1940.

I occupied myself by copying lettering from my father's building construction books, in particular lettering on pediments of classical buildings. I doubt if it did much good for my "joined up" writing started earlier that year, but it did give me a life long love of classical architecture. Art was limited to painting patterns on doilies.

Christmas Day, Boxing Day and New Year's Eve 1939 came and little changed for the family, except that Norman was in the army. 1940 was a bad year, of not the worst for Britain, and a year of sadness with three deaths in the family. Grandfather James Gibson, then two months later in August my great-grandmother Betsy Graham from Albert Street, and my father's elder brother John, aged 34 from tuberculosis in early 1941. During the visits to Saltwell cemetery I noticed an enormous ditch near the railway embankment. I didn't realise this was prepared in the event of many deaths due to bombing, in a short mass grave.

After standing in the sea for three days Norman was rescued from Dunkirk and came to stay with us, his only possession was the uniform he wore. I went with my father to a house near Jesmond Dene Bridge to visit the parents of his work colleague, Johnny Boon. He had been lost at sea and was the first casualty of war known to my parents.

Back to school after an eight month gap lessons took place in an out-building, with a pupil age range of five to twelve with the younger ones at the front of the class to older pupils towards the back. "Please Miss, Isobel is asleep at her desk." Teacher "Leave her alone, she has probably been up all night in the air raid shelter." This exchange became normal life in the classroom.

My father joined the home guard. The officer in charge had been my cub and scout master.He was well qualified for both jobs because he had been in the Boer war. He got some materials and had his platoon construct a caravan for his comfort when on manoeuvres. As the months went by there was an increasing number of evacuees returning home. St Cuthbert's choir was re-established and consisted chiefly of boys with three men, two of whom were engineers on war work and like the organist, Arthur J Phillips, a draughtsman at Clarke Chapman's, were in a reserved occupation. This meant they would not be called for military service. When the shift work allowed there could be two tenors and also an alto. The boys enjoyed the annual treat to the Empire theatre, Newgate Street in January for the pantomime and audience participation in community singing. I recall apposite songs for days of rationing, "Say little hen, when, when, when will you lay an egg for my tea!"

We left church as usual about 10.15am one Sunday and made our way to the junction of Bensham Bank and Rawling Road where we witnessed a mock battle of regular soldiers attacking Gateshead which was being defended by Dads' army, Home Guard. And what was the ammunition you may ask? Bags of flour! Thrown at each other, traces of flour on a uniform indicated a casualty who had to retire from battle.

Sunday evening services were brought forward to mid afternoon to allow people to get home before "lights out" and possible air raids.

Gas masks had to be tested. We went to the boiler room of Kelvin Grove School where, with gas masks on, gas was released and at a signal to leave we had to take off the masks. We emerged into daylight coughing and spluttering and with eyes stinging.

Shop workers had to do fire watch duty on a town rota basis. My aunt Bessie worked at Murdoch's clothing shop, Jackson Street, but sometimes did duties at Low Fell co-op. All my mother's cousins were called up for military service, Freddy, Johnny and Billy Foster of Cambridge Terrace. Freddy was a good pianist, Johnny was a violinist and saxophonist, and both were in demand in dance bands. The youngest Billy gave cause for concern, being the only brother sent overseas. All came home safely to return to their office jobs.

Harry Graham, Uncle Bill's son, was in the Royal Marines. His work on radios was an advantage when he had to learn Morse Code. After a long absence he appeared unannounced early in 1944. He had been in the Far East for some years. The Royal Marines had been brought back to prepare for D-Day. He suffered a leg wound at Caen and that was the end of the war for him.

Direct labour was in force by which anyone could be sent to work, anywhere in the country. My father's uncle through marriage, George Robertson of Keswick Street was sent to Coventry where he witnessed the bombing of that city and its cathedral on November 14th 1940. He came home some weekends and described those horrendous scenes.

My father was sent to Uttoxeter to build military camps. What a strange name I thought and had no idea of its location. I had heard of Exeter and knew it was a long way south, but Uttoxeter? At that age it was a mystery to me! His absence presented another problem. An eye operation at 17 meant my mother could not see to read. It was now my job to read his letters home and subsequently when he was aclled up in 1941 she could scribble letters but I had to address enveloped in printing learned from pediments mentioned earlier. Her visual impairment had further effects on my education. Magazines or books were of no use to her therefore there was no such material to hand for me to read.

Family life continued as far as possible. At Robert Thompson's birthday party his mother had a treat for us to spread on our bread, banana substitute which was both the colour and taste of bananas which we hadn't seen for three years.

In December 1941 two battleships were sunk by Japanese aircraft off the coast of Malaya. The husband of my mother's school friend, Agnes Shaw was on The Repulse and was seen swimming strongly away from his sinking ship. This gave her hope that he was rescued he would return at the end of the war, but he did not come back. She had two daughters aged four and seven at the time we visited her in Maxwell Street. This was the second casualty of war known to my parents. My father's work colleague Harry Hogg of Whitehall Road was taken prisoner at the siege of Tobruk.

It was now my father's turn to go into the army. After a visit to North London to see him during the summer holidays we left him at Liverpool Street Station. My mother and I were going to stay with a relative in Norwich. It was 1941 and we did not see him until the late autumn of 1945. I stood outdoors with air raid wardens in Norwich watching searchlights sweep the sky during raids.

One day I walked as usual from Rawling Road to Windsor Avenue where I called for a boy. We made our way to Westbourne Avenue where we waited for the cobbler's son to join us. At Coatsworth Road park gates we went in the park, turned left towards the top gates and to our great surprise saw three large craters in the grass. Bombs had fallen during the night. We each found some shrapnel. This would be a good talking point at school break time. We went up Enfield Road not knowing that more bombs had fallen on the ground behind the wall we were passing. Roof tiles were dislodged on a house opposite the top of Enfield Road where a girl from school lived, but no one was hurt. In Newcastle there was serious damage to houses on Shieldfield with people injured. A warehouse next to Manors station was on fire. Many people went to New Bridge Street to see the fierce flames days after the raid. Across the street fire hoses lay bringing in water for the firemen to tackle the blaze.

There was anotehr typical Dads' Army situation. To defend river traffic, Dunston power station, Armstrong's factory and five vital road and rail North - South bridges there was one anti-aircraft gun emplacement at the top of Lobley Hill. It rarely fired but it made us feel good when we heard the whack of gunfire.

After some years I moved from Gateshead High school to Beaconsfield in Kells Lane. During an assembly we were asked to pray for the family of a girl who stood in the front row. Her father had been lost at sea. We were not told but somehow we knew a teacher had lost her son at sea.

From a child's point of view we had good winters with plenty of snow and frost. Factories had a priority for power which meant electricity for the domestic sector was often cut off. More than once I sat in the kitchen in darkness wearing outdoor clothes including scarf and gloves, with my feet resting on a shelfg in the gas oven with the flame turned up full. There was an alternative to keep warm, go to the cinema where morale boosting films were shown and 1930s comedies.

As choir lads grew older voices changed and some of St. Cuthbert's boys formed our own choir. Some names come to mind, Norman Robinson, Ronnie Hindmarch, Len Comben, Harold Flynn my neighbour and myself led by Jack Hindmarsh who was already deputizing as organist.

The singing group explored our wonderful counties of Durham and Northumberland on walks. Every Easter Monday we walked to Durham [15 miles] to hear the choir enter the cathedral by the south door singing "Ye choirs of New Jerusalem" to wonderful effect. There were sandwiches to eat after evensong and the riverbank to explore before we retraced our steps home. There were other routes to walk, Morpeth to Rothbury, Morpeth to Alnwick and the longest Hexham to Shotley Bridge via Blanchland and Edmund Byers.

I also cycled to Durham with Harry Robinson for Sunday evensong. There akways seemed to be a headwind on the return journey which meant we were too late for our own evensong. We borrowed books from church for carol singing Christmas Eve. In the middle of the war I had a surprise delivery, of two thin books from Africa. Uncle Norman had no leave for some years so he took it all together. His posting in Africa led him to follow David Livingstone's route along the Zambezi. The books I received covered the life and work of Livingstone.

V.E. day came in May 1945. That night our group walked from Forth Street, Jack's house to Wrekenton where there was an enormous bonfire on the beacon. Every street was seeting with people. There were small groups of people dancing and singing around the fire. The dancing groups linked into long chains. We moved on to the Tyne Bridge, then the cathedral where the square was packed with people making merry. After some time we made our way home over the Redheugh bridge.

I was with Len at Duddon Valley youth hostel in August 1945, enjoying the evening meal when someone came in from the kitchen to say a radio message announced the Japanese surrender, a raucous cheer went up. It was August 15th.

In late autumn on a dark night there was an emotional moment when my father arrived at the platform gate, Newcastle station. When we left him in August 1941 at Liverpool Street station I looked up to his 5'8", now he looked up to my 5'9". I started to learn to play the piano after he went overseas, so it must have been a surprise for him to hear me play Beethoven Op13 "Pathetique" whilst having his first breakfast at home for four years. Norman didn't open any more tins. He rose through the ranks to Major by the end of the war.

So what of my lost years of education? In 1992 I approached the stage of Newcastle City Hall to receive an Open University degree of which one credit included renaissance architecture. This was the stage where I saw great pianists give recitals during the war by Solomon, Moisiewitch, Pouishnoff and the Liverpool Philharmonic even through air raids, nobody left the hall. It would soon be our turn to do national service.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.