大象传媒

As a child my memories of the war started around the time of the blitz on London. We lived about twelve miles due south of the centre of the city and were spared most of the devestation experienced by those living more into town.

My parents decided against having my elder sister and myself evacuated. I am not certain of their reasons. There was possibly a thought of sending us to stay with relatives in Canada. The fear of the U-Boats put this out of the question.

Whilst several neighbours had war shelters installed my father realised that the staircases in houses that were hit often remained standing. He strengthened the door and frame and my sister and I would sleep there every night. Being the shortest I slept with my head against the gas tank and my feet to the door. When the sirens sounded my parents would come and join us and Dad held the door closed.

I only once heard bombs falling. The loud whistling went on for ever and ever. I could hardly believe how long they would take to arrive. We later learned that there had been three and none nearer than half of a mile.

One night my father called us up to the front bedroom. Looking up towards London the sky was alight with a red glow rather like it is today with the sodium street lights. It didn't mean much to me then but I realise now that this was London really on fire and just how troubled my parents were.

The doodle-bugs were more of a menace to us. I saw quite a few go over and several cut their engines when overhead. They would usually glide on some distance and so would not present a threat. We visited a house just after it had been hit. The owner had been in his brick shelter. The blast had ripped open the door and he had just retrieved his undamaged glasses from way up the garden.

One landed fairly close when we were under the stairs. Dad did not have the door fully closed and I saw the metal framed window shake so violently that it seemed impossible that the glass was not even cracked.

During school holidays we would go to stay with my grandmother in Gillingham, Kent. The doodlebugs just went over without stopping. I used to stand at the back bedroom window watching the tracers going up as the gunners shot at them. Unfortunately I never saw one hit.

In the back bedroom at home the commotion overhead drew me to the window. A doodlebug came over quite low and a Spitfire or Hurricane, I am not sure which, was close behind it and attempting to turn it by shooting at the wing. It all seemed very dangerous.

Other memories are of the rationing and I was the one who could make the best scrambled egg from the egg powder. One of my father's visitors gave my sister and I a bar of milk chocolate each. This was the first I had seen since the penny bars of Nestle chocolate disappeared from the machine at the railway station.

My father was too old to be called up. He had been in Egypt during the first war. Instead, working at the Royal Mint, he had to work double shifts. This meant that we did not see him very much. He would have less than eight hours from arriving home and setting off again. I do not recall him talking very much of his journeys to and fro but it must have been nerve wracking sitting in a train at night leaving London whilst it was being attacked.

I guess that covers most of what I can recall. Except for one thing. People were so helpful to each other then. Such a contrast to the self-interest and aggression all around us today.

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