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This story was submitted to the People’s War Site by Three Counties Action, on behalf of Pamela Cann, and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

It seems a long time since the beginning of the Second World War — of which my earliest memory is the billeting of Czech soldiers to our home in Lee Road, Dovercourt. One became unwell, and the cookhouse sent his food, which my mother promptly emptied away, pronouncing it as ‘unfit to eat’. During the ‘phoney war’ period, my friend and I, with our mothers, had to apply for, and try on gas masks at the then infant school in Second Avenue. I remember being frightened by the whole procedure, and by the ungainly apparatus for babies and young children.

As Harwich, Dovercourt and the port of Parkeston Quay were on a vulnerable area of the East Coast, near Holland and possible invasion, they soon became restricted zones. My friend’s father, a clerk at Parkeston Quay was transferred to Colchester until his call-up to the army, while my father, a skilled marine turner was in a reserved occupation and spent the war years repairing Royal Navy ships for further service.

Children were evacuated — most with their schools to Gloucestershire, but my friend and I, with our mothers, evacuated ourselves to Wyverstone near Finningham in mid-Suffolk until we were again allowed home. There were no buses from the station, so I can only assume that a taxi (special petrol allowance?) took us to our lodgings. This was a council house with no running water and a very strict landlady. Our mothers forbade us to go ‘up the garden’, where the cesspit lurked in smelly isolation. We devised a waiting room outside the privy, enhanced by jars of wild flowers which in those days grew in abundance. Nearly opposite to our house was a field of ox-eye daisies, as high as a six year old’s waist — a wonderful memory. The school had one room, where a lonely teacher presided over the whole school grouped round the perimeter.

Any food clothing and general goods were bought from the only village shop at Bacton — quite a walk away past high hedges and various smelly farm animals which came to drink at the pond outside the shop. My friend and I lay on the bank looking for tiddlers — when I found myself taking a dip in the dirty water. My mother dragged me in the shop, stripped off most of my clothes, bought me a cheap frock while my poor friend had to lend me her liberty bodice (a sort of cross between a vest and a corset — a very necessary fashion item for all junior children!) None of the children had ever heard a ‘sireen’, as they called it, so we ‘townies’ obliged with some most realistic impressions. If German fighters or bombers had reached this isolated outpost of Suffolk, the children would have been taken for shelter to the nearby church — not a good defence against high explosives! Indeed after we had left, we heard that a stray had dropped behind the church, blowing out all the windows.

By 1940, the authorities readmitted mothers and children to Harwich, Dovercourt and Parkeston Quay, so we thankfully returned. My father who had been in lodgings at Parkeston Quay was especially pleased. My friend’s father was called up, so they moved to Colchester. Our rented accommodation in Lee Road was unavailable, so we lived temporarily in my friend’s house. Many houses were commandeered, and terrible stories were told of the Scottish Regiment that chopped up the banisters for firewood!

There were frequent air-raids — the Germans trying to obliterate Parkeston Quay. But the bombs dropped either in the river, or on nearby Harwich. A dummy Parkeston Quay was built up the River Stour near Bradfield to deceive the enemy. We spent many nights in the Anderson shelter. Eventually father moved us to Third Avenue, where I lived until I married. The radio gave us news and entertainment. We all enjoyed such favourites as Bandwagon, Workers’ Playtime, Henry Hall’s Guestnight, Billy Cotton, In Town Tonight, The Man In Black and ITMA. Children’s Hour, with Uncle Mac, was very popular, and introduced us to natural history, history, music and topical discussions. Reading was high on our list of ‘what to do with your time’. The schools gradually returned, and I went to the Hill School, now a court. Frequent air-raid drills were held, including descending to the very unhygienic bowels of the shelters behind the school. Nobody was supposed to go near the beach, where fortifications had been built to keep the enemy at bay with his deadly armoury, until the army or home guard could overcome and/or destroy them. But our gang of boys and girls wanted to paddle, so we took off our shoes and socks and crept down the beach, over the mud and between the unmanned defences. It was wonderful, but I shudder now, and wonder whether any area was mined! The boating lake was another favourite attraction, slimy and overflowing. I found it irresistible, and quickly fell in, the water over my head. That didn’t scare me, but having to walk home and face my mother certainly did — no bathroom, just an old tin bath, water to be heated — oh dear! Our gang liked to explore the fields round and about, sliding down haystacks, or all knew, or had heard of some poor child who was afflicted. We climbed fences, jumped gates and played on our bikes on traffic-free roads. Most back gardens had been dug up to plant vegetables, and many fathers tended allotments when they came active. So the war passed, until, in late January 1943, probably because I was such a tomboy, I contracted osteomyelitis (a severe and damaging bone infection) with general septicaemia. For three months I hovered between life and death in the local hospital, while the church all prayed for me. My GP had informed my distraught parents that to visit a specialist was a waste of time as I would die anyway*. Eventually he was forced to admit that, perhaps something could be done, and I was admitted to the Essex County Hospital in Colchester where I met a most clever surgeon, Ronald Reid. He obtained a new antibiotic wonder drug, not generally available, through the American Red Cross — penicillin — I was one of the first in North East Essex to receive it. Penicillin stopped the infection spreading further — having already damaged one leg and both arms. There followed a year of extensive surgery, with weekly visits from one or both parents, who travelled in blacked-out trains when I was transferred to Black Notley. I saw many men in blue exercising in the grounds — service personnel. At last I was allowed home and finally was well enough to sit for the scholarship and resume my education at the local Grammar school at the age of 13.

In 1944, the only son of my mother’s aunt and uncle, was taken by the Japanese to a prisoner-of-war camp. He died there, and they never knew where he was buried. I can still remember their anger and grief. Before D-Day the skies were full of gliders, a seemingly never-ending stream of aero-traffic, and our streets were jammed with vehicles and their army crews. One day they were there, and the next an eerie quietness spoke of heroism and the final push to victory. I can just remember VE Day — I was waiting to go back into hospital yet again**.

So wartime memories for me include to wars — the greater one against Germany and Japan, and my own private one in those days before and after antibiotics, and give grateful thanks to all the nurses, doctors, friends and relatives who fought on my behalf and brought me, after further treatment to ultimate victory.

*My mother bought a copy of Picture Post, a topical news magazine in which was an article on Alexander Fleming and his discovery and development of a new anti-biotic wonder drug which he called penicillin. She said at the time wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could ever have it, oeseomyetosis was one of the diseases which could be cured, there was no cure until then.

Despite, further spells of hospitalisation and surgery from 18 to 26 years the illness was dormant. After a good grounding at the local grammar school I went on to train as a primary school teacher and worked at Harwich and Dovercourt primary schools for 22 years. Eventually reaching deputy post.

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