大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Emma Hart at the AGC Museum on behalf of Mr Peter G Moody, and has added to the site with his permission. Mr Moody understands the site's terms and conditions.

This was the period when everyone 'Dug for Victory" and I did my share - that's providing you like radishes, mustard, cress and violas. These always grew well, so therefore that's what I grew. I purchased my seeds in the small seed shop in the centre of the village. They were sold loose and by weight. I knew I could never have more than a pennyworth at a time, but there always were plenty. It was while I was digging for Victory on Saturday morning that I experienced my first bomb of the war.

Headcorn being in the heart of Kent had a grand seat for the Battle of Britain - it took place above us daily. On this particular morning, I was digging alongside a woman who had come with her young daughter to live in our house. They had moved to get away from the bombing and shelling of Folkestone.

The air battle was going on overhead and I looked up and saw a flight of German bombers being circled by their escorts - Messerschmitts. Coming for the other direction were a flight of British fighter aircraft heading straight for the enemy. I guess by this stage of the Battle of Britian, the inhabitants of Headcorn were so used to these activites they just continued with their daily tasks, and just as I was turning back to my digging, my companion pulled me to the ground and placed herself on top of me. There was a huge explosion, the ground shook and there was a great rush of air through the hedgerow alongside us. I had just experienced my first bomb. One of the bombers had lightened his load to enable him to escape the British fighers.

The bomb partly demolished one of the larger houses just off the centre of the village. There were 5 people killed with others receiving injuries. Lawrence Woodcock, brother of my pal Lesley, was delivering bread at the house at the time. He was pushed to the ground by the lady of the house, his life was saved but the lady was killed.

I had been a visitor to this house a month earlier as it was home to a friend of mine. Luckily he had been sent to America a month or so earlier to escape the war. Before he went he had given me my first ever wristwatch and a pair of roller skates. I hardly ever had them off my feet - mind they ought to have come with a cushion, much to the amusement of Mr Head, the Saddler, who would watch me trying to use them.

On the other side of my home, The Manse, was a small building and workshop of the Saddler. This gentleman was the village air raid warden. I recall him going round the village telling us to get undercover when a battle was taking place overhead beacuse the bullet clips would come raining down - these I collected when it was all clear.

Downed aircraft were a great delight to us youngsters. The lining of my jacket was full of all sorts of bits and pieces of these aircraft, including the odd bullet. On one occasion my brother and some of his schoolmates rushed across the field to an aircraft that had come down, and they were the first to arrive. The pilot - who was German- got out of the plane and sat with the boys on the wing of the aircraft until the guard arrived. He was held in one of the village halls until an army unit arrived. To this day I can remember thinking being surprised at meeting my first German and thinking that he looked like us! Headcorn at this time did not have a Home Guard Squad, or at least I was not aware of it, but as children, we had our own army.

Our officer was Leslie Woodcock - he had to be the officer because he had a bicycle. The reason he needed the bicycle was beacuse he had something wrong with his heart and always looked blue. He died in Noevmber 1943 at the age of 13 years old. Leslie, the youngest child in the family, had two older sisters and one older brother. I think the girls were twins - Mary and Merica. The girls both worked in the grocery and drapery shop in the village. I can recall, having purchased something in the shop I required a farthing change, but received a bundle of safety pins instead. They made us forage caps to wear, and with our belts around our middles, we would walk around in single file behind our officer, who would give each of us an area to guard. Why I should have had to guard the village pond I'll never know, but at least it was near to my home.

One of the most important events which I recall, happened just before the Battle of Britain. We woke one morning and were informed that we were all to go to the centre of the village, where there was a mill. We were asked to take with us any prams and carts we had. When I arrived, I saw that the mill was full of people - mostly women but there were some children. There was masses of food - a great pile of bread, lots of tables and the people inside were already slicing bread and opening large tins of corned beef to make sandwiches. Large pans of tea were being made. As kids our job was to fetch the bread for the women, pack sandwiches into the prams and carts, and trudge them up to the rail station where the trains were stopping. There we found trains packed full with soldiers. Many had bandages, some were in pyjamas. They were of all nationalities, men returning from Dunkirk, and we were feeding them. How many trains stopped for our food I cannot remember but I know that at the end of it all I had a hell of a lot of foreign coins that the men had thrown at us.

Living in the village of Headcorn suited me well. It was one of the happiest periods of my life. I had great friends in the village both old and young.

Eileen Austin and her sister Jean, who came from Chatham, were staying in the village with their aunt. Eileen had been born minus one hand - many a hard poke I had from her handless arm I can tell you. I greatly admired her when she showed me how she could pee like a boy using the middle of a toilet roll. We were both 9 years old.

Leslie was my other great friend : there was only 3 days difference in our ages. His father was a coal merchant and also a lay preacher for the Baptist Church. Leslie's brother had been delivering bread around the village when it was bombed, but hadn't been harmed. I don't think he could have been more than 16 years old at the time.

There was a time during fruit picking when Mrs Hooker would take me on the back of her bicycle (she had a small childs seat in the back) to pick fruit with her out on the farm. Len would also use Mrs Hookers bike. Mr Hooker was already a sick man when he took us into his home, and he died during our stay. I recall Mr Hooker being a small man who was always pleasant to me. However, he always upset Len (my brother) when it came to haircuts. Mr Hooker did the cutting 'pudding fashion' and this did not suit Len at all. Much to the amusement of Len I saw Mr Hooker after his death - but that's another story.

There were times living in the village, when I was frightened by the sound of gunfire or the explosion of bombs in the distance, and you found yourself very much on your own. I cannot remember that I was aware of missing my own family, or home. Contact between them and myself must have been left to Len.

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