大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from Northumberland on behalf of Mrs. Margaret Kelly (nee McGowan). Mrs. Kelly fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions, and the story has been added to the site with her permission. It is written in the first person.

I was born in June 1936. One of my earliest recollections was the day on which the Second World War broke out and Britain declared war on Germany, so I would have been a little over three years of age. Our family lived in Arthur Street, Gateshead, off Prince Consort Road and near where the North Durham Cricket Club Ground and the Civic Centre are now. The girl from upstairs, Thelma Thompson who would have been nine or ten years old and who, sadly, I鈥檝e lost touch with, was going to buy a loaf of bread at the shop at the bottom of our street and she asked my parents if she could take me with her, which they agreed to. We were standing in the shop when my Dad, John McGowan, burst through the door, swept me off my feet and clutched me to his chest, grabbed Thelma鈥檚 hand, dragged her into the street and then ran home with us. I remember the wireless was on at home and soon after we got there we heard the declaration of war. Also, I seem to remember lots of aeroplanes going across the sky but I cannot now be certain if that was on 3 September 1939 or a little later.

It was not long before we were evacuated to Hexham where my parents took a cottage in the Stobb Hill or Stobb Park area, I think, and moved the family furniture there. For a time, Mam, Catherine McGowan, was employed milking cows but when Aunty Mary Hood died in childbirth the family returned to Gateshead so that Mam could look after my six week-old cousin, Ellen. Ellen's Father, Uncle Davy, was away serving in the Army. Two older cousins, Davy and Rosemary, went to live with Aunty Rosie who was a widow. Mam looked after Ellen until she was five years of age. On our return to Gateshead we moved into a house at Hymers鈥� Court, at the bottom end of the High Street and not far from the Tyne and High Level Bridges. I remember the barrage balloons above the bridges, and after bombing raids we鈥檇 pick up pieces of shrapnel.

Soon after the family returned to Gateshead, Ellen developed pneumonia. She was treated with crushed M and B tablets taken with milk, and Kaolin poultices were applied. Tops were made for her from Thermagen wool, which was like thick, orange lint that was bought in rolls and cut to size, with arm-holes cut into it. These treatments and the good care given ensured that Ellen made a full recovery.

Dad was a non-smoker, so he used to swap cigarette coupons for food, to help feed the family. When he was called up for service with the armed forces he joined the Royal Artillery Regiment, to serve on anti-aircraft guns, first in London and, later, in the Orkneys. With him being away for much of the war I did not really get to know him until much later. He hated the Army and it is, perhaps, ironic that he was very upset when, after the War had ended, he lost his medals when they were pinched at 鈥淪nappy Lloyds鈥� Picture House.

Our nearest air-raid shelters were the old prison cells at Swinburne Street. When we were there, we never knew what time of day it was. We amused ourselves singing songs while the WVS (Women鈥檚 Voluntary Service) served cocoa and things. The cells were dank and cold, so we slept with our coats on. Often, I would sit for hours with my legs tucked underneath me, without moving, a terrible habit which I blame for the thrombosis I had when I was twelve years old. The Doctor who treated my thrombosis said that could have been the cause.

Few youngsters really knew what war was all about. In the vicinity of where we lived there were many large, poor families, some with as many as ten children, often without shoes to run around in. Life was hard for those families

There was very little schooling during the War. Often, I was sent to stand in queues at Dietz鈥檚 Pork Butchers shop when Mam heard that sausages might be available. The Dietz鈥檚 were Jews and I remember they had some trouble early in the War from victimisation because of their German origins. Taylor鈥檚 Pork shop was another place that I鈥檇 be sent to queue for meat despite me being only very young, and I remember going to Samson鈥檚 for oranges and tomatoes, and to Woolworth鈥檚 for biscuits, usually custard creams. Children in those days were better disciplined than those of today鈥檚 generation. We were never smacked but were sat down and had things explained to us in such a way that we had great respect for our parents and other elders.

There was a banana warehouse at the top of Oakwellgate. The 鈥淛ungle Telegraph鈥� system amongst the children of the area worked remarkably well and all of the kids quickly knew when a consignment of bananas had arrived. As the lorry was unloaded, we鈥檇 all gather round, to watch what was going on. Of course, the bananas were under-ripe and green when they first arrived. The foreman would tell us to stand clear but he also promised that we could have any bananas that fell off during the unloading process. While the carters were inside the store with one load, we鈥檇 all rush forward, to pull off a few bananas and throw them underneath the lorry. When unloading was completed and the lorry pulled away, there would be enough bananas lying on the road for all of us! We鈥檇 each grab a few, wrap them in our jumpers and rush home. Leaving them wrapped in our jumpers for a few days helped the bananas to ripen.

Another treat came from Mam's brother, Uncle Dinny, (derived from his real name, Dennis) who was a navvy employed laying airfields. This must have been later in the war when the Americans had joined in because I remember him bringing home large bars of chocolate that could only be broken with a hammer.

After their store in Ellison Street burned down, Shepherd鈥檚 department store moved to Kent House next to St. Mary鈥檚 Church, which are now occupied, respectively, by Metro Radio and the Tourist Information Board. Shepherd鈥檚 sold food as well as the usual range of clothing and furniture, etc, normally associated with department stores. One amusing tale from the War years concerned a trip there to buy my brother, Dennis, a reefer coat. Cousin Davy, who would have been seven or eight years old at the time, was with us. He, too, walked out of the shop wearing a new reefer coat but, as Mother was walking ahead with us kids trailing behind her, it was only when we got back home that she realised what Davy had done. Her inclination was to return the unpaid for coat back to the shop but Dad, who was home on leave, said: 鈥淧oor little b****r, let him have the coat鈥�.

When I was seven, possibly eight years old, which would have been in 1944 or 1945, Oakwellgate School was used to accommodate mainly Italian prisoners of war (POWs). They were guarded by what I took to be Australian troops because they wore the tradional and famous bush hat with which the Australians are always associated. At about 07:30 hours each morning a buzzer was sounded, to warn the local populace that the POWs were being marched to Greensfield Railway Sheds where they were put to work cleaning railway carriages and engines. At teatime, sometime between 16:00 - 17:00 hours, the buzzer went again, to warn people that the POWs were marching back to Oakwellgate School. We children were then pulled indoors, sometimes by the scruff of the neck, but, through chinks in the curtains, we often watched the POWs marching past our front door.

It鈥檚 surprising just how many memories I have of my early childhood and growing up in Gateshead during the War even though I had not reached my teens by the time it ended!

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