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I was born in 1928 and in 1937 moved to Chelmsford where my father was a police constable. My first war memory was my father being recalled from our holiday because of the Munich crisis. He started to dig a shelter in the back garden with some help from a young probationary policeman. As he swung the pickaxe he put it through my mother’s fresh washing hanging on the line. After Chamberlain returned with his piece of paper my father filled in the hole he had dug!

My parents had arranged for me to go to Canada but when it came to the day of departure they couldn’t bear to take me to the station so I stayed at home. Large numbers of evacuee children were billeted in our street and I remember being shocked at their behaviour, climbing lamp posts and smashing bulbs and other damage. They also had an unfortunate effect on my young brother who started speaking cockney and using swear words!

Although the police service was a reserved occupation most young officers volunteered. Only a handful of older experienced officers remained including my father — they had to lead and guide the wartime reserve policemen who were older men directed into the service. The War brought masses of extra regulations in addition to normal criminal law and also the police controlled the air raid warning and report service.

We became used to the sound of enemy aircraft and one night an aircraft was shot down over Chelmsford, my father brought home a large piece of metal which smelt like rotten cheese. My mother threw it out! The aircraft was found totally destroyed in the Bishop of Chelmsford’s garden with the crew dead or dying. The next day inspecting officers from the RAF were most perturbed to find a lot of the aircraft lost to souvenir hunters which all had to be retrieved including my father’s prize!

Because my father worked long hours I occasionally took food into him and once he let me see an German airman who looked very smart and spoke impeccable English. He told my father that as he was an officer he should have better quarters!

We saw the Blitz on London from our garden — the search lights and the sound of gunfire. When the oil refineries were bombed some 20 miles away we could see the fires. Although we did not feel in direct danger we spent most nights in the now re-dug shelter in the garden until winter came and it became cold and damp then my father built an indoor one. With tightly fitted blackout shutters and a coal fire it was quite cosy.

As boys we were obsessed with aircraft recognition and anything military and did not undertsnd the politics of war but it was a different matter for our parents who had to cope with food and fuel shortages but there was a tremendous cooperative feeling with people working for the national good. Women were being directed into war work but my mother with 2 young sons and a husband to look after baulked at 12 hour shifts but found herself required to take in lodgers instead. Every fortnight 2 or 3 airmen were billeted on us while they attended a radio course at Marconis. She received 17/6d for each and 21/6d for officers per week. We must have seen over 100 of these airmen, we became particularly friendly with 3 Polish men who even spent their leave with us. I still have the plaque they presented to us before they left for France in 1944. In 1998 I tried to trace them and had some success with one who had settled in France after the War but had unfortunately died just after I started my search. His widow sent me a photograph of him holding my young brother in his arms taken outside our house.

We celebrated the end of the War with much jubilation with hundreds of people dancing and drinking in Tindal Square. We managed to make cakes, jellies and sandwiches from our rations. We dismantled the Morrison shelter and the steel top was placed on the road and a fire lit around which we danced. The next day we found the heat had melted the tarmac and the shelter top had stuck to the road!

After the War I was called up for National Service and found myself on the same radio course as those airmen who stayed with us. I was one of the lucky ones who was just too young to be involved in the conflict.

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