大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library on behalf of Brian Ulph and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

I was born in July 1936 in a two up two down Georgian slum in Nicholas Street, in the 鈥渘ew city鈥� but better known as Crooks Place. This area suffered extensively from bombing although, luckily, those of us living at the St. Stephens Square end of the street escaped damage.

The first bombs to fall nearby were dropped in February 1941 and resulted in extreme damage and demolition of properties in the Vauxhall Street area. At this time I would have been 4 陆 so, although I can remember lots of the bombing I can鈥檛 honestly say that my recollections would include that particular raid.

I can say with certainty that my memories definitely take in the 1942 Baedeker raids because Caley鈥檚 chocolate factory was demolished in April of that year and our house was only about 250 or so yards from Coburg Street/Malthouse Road. At some stage later, it can only have been a day or two after the raid, myself and one or two of my neighbours and school friends (John Willimott and Pat Rayner were almost certainly with me!) walked to the site to inspect the damage. This 鈥渋nspection鈥� included clambering amongst the remains where, to our delight and amazement we discovered great lumps of chocolate which had solidified into rock-like chunks. Bearing in mind that sweets were rationed and in very short supply, this find was like the proverbial 鈥渕anna from heaven鈥�.

But to go back a few hours to the night of the raid, for some reason my parents didn鈥檛 get the family into an air raid shelter. Although it was only about 7 or 8 steps from our front door, indeed part of our front garden was requisitioned to build this public shelter, we never actually made it that far. So, Mum, Dad and my brother of 18 months were huddled under the kitchen table whilst the bombs were falling all around.

Our house was in a poor enough state without Mr Hitler trying to bomb it and it was riddled with mice. These poor creatures must have been terrified by the explosions because we could hear them racing up and down the walls behind the crumbling lath and plaster. Indeed my Mum was more terrified of those mice than she was of the Luftwaffe and they scared her enough.

At some point during what was to be a long night Dad announced that he badly needed to go to the lavatory but was not prepared to risk life and limb by going into the backyard to use the communal facilities. So he took the 鈥渟lop鈥� pail onto the stairs, closed the door and, ahem, spent several pence! How he managed that is somewhat puzzling because the stairs rose at a dizzyingly vertical angle and had very narrow treads. We certainly knew the deed had been done because of the ghastly smell which resulted. Somehow Hitler鈥檚 bombs didn鈥檛 get us but we were almost done for by Dad!

Eventually, the all-clear was sounded and we nervously ventured outside the house not knowing what we would find. I can remember looking up and you could have believed it was bonfire night; the sky was one mass of sparks blowing over from the great number of destroyed and damaged buildings including Caley鈥檚, Curls, Woolworth鈥檚, Buntings, The Boars Head to name the best known. Our own area had taken another hammering, particularly in the Rupert Street area.

It may have been that night, I鈥檓 not sure, but the house in which my maternal grandparents lived, in Little Nicholas Street, was destroyed by a direct hit, so they lost everything.

I can recall the many nights we did spend in the shelter and I suppose for youngsters it was part of the adventure of wartime. However those shelters provided convenient places for romantic liaisons on the bomb free nights and I can remember one young female neighbour taking home a 鈥渂alloon鈥� which she found. Her poor mum was horrified because her daughter had been blowing it up. Of course, in those days we were innocent in every sense of the word and it was some years before we realised just what that 鈥渂alloon鈥� had really been!

Those were also the halcyon days when people weren鈥檛 hamstrung by political correctness, and particularly by health and safety regulations. Perhaps Mum didn鈥檛 know but we had great fun exploring the insides of bombed out properties and collecting spent bullets and the other debris which fell to the ground following aerial dogfights. I suppose we were too young to be afraid but, for us, war was the 鈥渘ormal鈥� way of life so we got on and enjoyed it!

One night Dad was in his favourite watering hole the 鈥淕eorge IV鈥� in Essex Street when the air raid warning sounded. I should explain that he was very deaf and therefore failed the medical for conscription. On this night he rushed home to protect his family and this entailed him using the passageway which ran from Essex Street across Shadwell Street and into Nicholas Street. Sadly for Dad, he forgot the presence of a lamppost in the middle of one section of the passageway which resulted in a violent collision between him and it. When he staggered in the house he was swearing like a trooper. Our first thought was that an important darts match had been disturbed but when we looked up we saw the blood pouring from a badly cut eye. We desperately tried to look suitably sympathetic but as this kind of 鈥渁ccident鈥� was one we found amusing when portrayed in Keystone Cops movies, it was hard to suppress our desire to laugh!

I can recall being taken to Eaton Park to see a German fighter plane which had somehow managed to land there with little apparent damage.

When the USAAF joined in the war our enjoyment increased tenfold as we really looked forward to going in the city centre to accost every US airman we could find with the well known war time cry 鈥淕ot any gum, chum?鈥�

Whilst all this was going on I was going to school as usual, that is Crooks Place or Bignold School. My most vivid memories of that time are (i) falling in the fishpond in the infants (ii) hating the school milk, which was always put on the radiators in the winter, and (iii) playing football in the school playground at every opportunity.

One of the most lasting of my memories was going into the city centre on VE Day and being completely overawed by the huge crowds of people who were celebrating. I can remember a US airman clambering up to the top of one of the lamp standards in Gentleman鈥檚 Walk adjacent to where the Market flower stalls are today. He reached the top only to fall to the ground and I always wonder what happened to him whenever I recall that incident.

Then, of course, at war鈥檚 end came the turning on of the street lamps 鈥� an amazing experience after years of darkness. Also the return of Mars bars and Walls three penny ice cream blocks. Those were the days!

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