大象传媒

I was living with my mother in a small cottage in Hoole village near Chester. I worked as a typist for the fourth anti-aircraft division at the 'Firs', Upton, Chester. At night I was a volunteer telephonist on call for the ARP.
If an alert was sounded I would cycle to the local police station that was almost covered with sandbags. There I would man the telephone waiting for any messages. In the cell was Marcel a young French boy who had worked as a lift boy in the Champs Elysee, Paris. He was offered money and a job by the Germans to come to England on the ferry to meet up with a contact. They travelled north mainly on foot but Marcel hated the man he travelled with so left him. There were many jobless men sent oer in this way to work for espionage. Marcel was found wandering around in Hough Green by one of our local policemen.
I could speak school French quite well; he and I chatted for many hours when I was on duty. The sergeant's wife was a very jolly person, nice to Marcell; she would take him into her home. One evening I took him home, while eating Christmas cake in front of the fire the sergeant came and took him back to the station saying it was really not a very good idea. He was later taken to prison and I never heard from him again.
On one night mother and I could hear the throb of engines, we learnt to tell the difference between the enemy and ours. The wailing of sirens broke the peace, nestling my mothe with cushions under the stairs I rushed for my steel helmet, gas mask and armband.
Before I reached the front gate the whistling of a bomb falling broke the silence, I threw myself to the ground, no explosion just the sounds of the quiet of the night. Then the cracking of flames could be heard, as I looked up from where I lay I saw a red glow coming from the road. I could tell it was a stick of incendiaries, grabbing a bucket of sand I commenced to tip it out on top of the bomb but it would not go out so with great abandon I proceeded to jump up and down on it. Then pulled tufts of earth to try and cover it, too late the air raid wardens arrived to deal with it.
Collecting my bicycle I set off in the darkeness, no lights, no cars or people. The night was pitch black as I cycled along the road occasionally lit by the searchlights scanning the sky as the droning of the aircraft faded in thedirection of Ellesmere Port and Liverpool. I found two more incendiaries that I dealt with by jumping up and down on. (At first these incendiaries were tolight the way for the bombers, later explosives were added). I was a little worried as I sped along for I could hear a whistlingsound of a bomb following me. I threw my bicycle down and jumped into a ditch, it stopped. I pulled myself together with the whistling following me I realised it was the wind blowing through the brim of my tin hat.
During one night whilst I was on the switchboard waiting to transfer calls for the police or ambulance services, a call came in that one of the searchlight sites from the 'Firs' had been hit. The Germans would fire down the beam of light all the crew were killed, it came home to me that this ware was in earnest.
I remember on another occasion when I reported for work at the 'Firs' it was a quiet dark morning and the first fall of snow was upon us. As I approached the gate the sentry stepped out calling, "Who goes there?" I advanced as I usually did on these occasions brightly saying, "Good morning." But was astonished to see the sentry lunge with his rifle bayonet pointing directly at me. "Stand and be recognised." I stood still terrified; the war had change for me it had come to Hoole village.

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