大象传媒

Gerald Bleetman鈥檚 Story

I had mixed feelings when the war broke out. Being a boy of 11 years I wasn鈥檛 sure whether we were embarking on an adventure or as my elders told me 鈥渁 very dangerous time鈥�. Much of the anxiety that I felt was really a culmination of the preceding crises that led to the war- such as the occupation of the Saarland by Germany in 1935, the Rhineland in 1936, the Anschluss (occupation of Austria) in March 1938, the Munich crisis which led to the occupation of the Sudetenland in Czechoslovakia in September 1938. Then after Hitler claimed he had no further demands, he went on to occupy the remains of Czechoslvakia.
Then again the crisis of summer 1939 when Hitler demanded the return of Danzig and the Polish Corridor which led to his attack on Poland on the 1st September 1939 and our declaration of war on Germany on 3rd September.
I was living with my parents and brother in Newington Green- Islington in London. People, wherever possible, did their best to carry on as before but had to get used to the blackout and rationing of food, petrol, fuel and later on clothing and increasing shortages of everyday items that in peace time were taken for granted.
We had all seen newsreels at the cinema showing the devastation that German and Italian bombers had caused to Guernica and other Spanish cities during the Spanish civil war so that we expected that it might happen to us at anytime, a somewhat daunting prospect. In the event, the air raids did not really start in earnest until the summer of 1940 after the fall of France.
* * *
My father was called up in 1942 and served for a time on the anti-aircraft guns (Royal Artillery) near Hull. One of my uncles worked in an engineering factory making parts for armaments and my mother worked in a clothing factory making military uniforms.
On Friday 1st September 1939 when war seemed imminent, children were assembled at their schools to be sent away from London. Other children like myself were allowed to be evacuated with mothers and children under 5, as my brother was 4 years old. We were given labels to put our names on and allowed a limited amount of luggage, usually a haversack, and taken to Canonbury station where a special train was waiting to take us to an unknown destination.
After many delays and rumours we finally arrived at Market Harborough Leicestershire. There were old buses waiting to take us to a hall where billeting officers arranged for us to stay with local people. The people we were with were kind to begin with. This was the time of the 鈥淧honey War鈥� so that evacuees gradually drifted back to London and we were returned home in December 1939.
When the Battle of Britain began in the summer of 1940 we returned to Market Harborough and my mother and brother were billeted separately from me. I was billeted with the parents of a Hurricane fighter pilot. He had joined the RAF in 1935 and rose through the ranks to become a pilot officer.
Although he was wounded in an air battle over the Channel, he was posted to the Desert Air Force where he won the D.F.C. Unfortunately he was later seriously wounded in a 鈥渄og fight鈥� and was paralysed from the waist down. I last saw him in 1958 when he was in hospital and again in 1959.
Gas masks were issued before the war started and they were carried around in a box.
The 1st air raid that I experienced I was in a cinema where 鈥淭he Wizard of Oz鈥� with Judy Garland was showing. When the siren sounded we left the theatre and returned after the 鈥榓ll clear鈥�.
The next raid happened when I was at school. We were in the playground watching what looked like formations of silver model aircraft high above us in a bright blue sky. Just as our fighters were attacking them the master shouted at us to take cover.
The night raids could be quite unpleasant- the enemy aircraft engines had a distinctive throbbing sound- then the 鈥渨histle鈥� as the bombs fell and the explosions which would shake the ground when they fell near. However, the loudest bangs came from the anti-aircraft guns. They helped to encourage us whether they hit the enemy or not.
At this time we lived at Newington Green. After being sent to Market Harborough again and after the 鈥渂litz鈥� died down we returned to London. About late summer of 1944 Hitler began sending V.I flying bombs 鈥攖hese were more frightening than anything before because they were robots- having no pilot and for that time very fast (400 mph) and they carried 1000 lbs of explosive and were timed to dive on London.
The worst experience I had was when a V2 rocket exploded on my old school at about 2.00 a.m. at night in February 1945. We lived about 200 yards away. The windows blew in and stuck to the back of my bed as if it were a dartboard. Luckily I was wrapped in my blankets, as it was a bitterly cold night, which helped to keep the glass off me. There was no warning for these rockets. By the time they hit the ground they were travelling at 2000mph, which is 3 times the speed of sound, so that there was an explosion and a few seconds after, the loud whooshing sound of their arrival.
The food was strictly rationed- 2 oz cheese, 1 egg, 4 oz meat and no sweets until later (1942), 4 oz per week. I did not see a banana again until after the war. Later in the war America sent powdered eggs and spam. People supplemented their ration however they could. Those that had gardens were encouraged to 鈥淒ig for Victory鈥�. Clothing was limited to the value of coupons that were issued.
When the war was over there was tremendous relief and joy and a wish to see Hitler and the Nazi leaders brought to justice for their war crimes. During the war, especially during the 鈥渂litz鈥�, there was a great sense of purpose and camaraderie, which unhappily soon disappeared when the war ended.
Perhaps most of all, I remember when Churchill became prime minister and Britain stood alone, he inspired us and gave us the will to fight on when everything seemed so gloomy after the fall of France.
It is certain that if there had not been 21 miles of water between Europe and us and the RAF had not beaten the German Luftwaffe, then the course of history would have been too awful to contemplate.

* * *

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