大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by volunteer from The Chepstow Society on behalf of Keith Underwood and has been added to the site with his permission. Keith Underwood fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Continues from contributions ID 4124747 & 4124765

The actual teaching I do not remember clearly, although I was never happier than when I was left to read. There were two very poor, smelly children in the school at one point, a boy and his younger sister. They were probably evacuees. I was asked to sit with them and help them with their reading. Arithmetic was only interesting when the book had pictures in it. I loved the drawings of shops full of prewar merchandise, on theleft hand page, while on the right were the sums you were expected to do. An early memory was being taught the letters of the alphabet and short words from cards saying CAT, DOG, MAT etc. I was already literate through my mother鈥檚 efforts, but I still have an Army exercise book in which my father had set out the alphabet and numerals for me to copy - plus drawings of Germans and British firing at each other from barbed wire defended slit trenches! At that time I seemed to be in the Babies鈥� Standard - in February 1940!

Spiritual surveillance was provided by the Rev.Selwyn Cox MA of the Royal Army Chaplains鈥� Department and our medical welfare was taken care of by Major 鈥淟arry鈥� Shield MC TD MB of the Royal Army Medical Corps (TA). An elderly man with white hair and a moustache, he more often than not believed that an aspirin and a spell in bed would do the trick, but I might be doing him a discredit. He was a kindly man and brought me through the usual run of childhood ailments. We also had the best dental care at the Dental Centre at the Camp. From my Army School record which my mother kept, of 1369 possible attendances, I managed 1165 of them. The absences would be explained by illness and by travel to the family in Kent. I certainly recall many occasions when I was confined to my bed, with a fire in the bedroom in the winter. The image of lying in bed in the dark, watching the firelight on the ceiling will always be with me, as will the use of the lamp on which a tar substance was burned to fill the room with vapours. I usually had chest ailments. When I had whooping cough, a local wise woman (?) suggested that my mother take me down to the river on Beachley Bay to drink river water. I remember going and thank the day that I am still alive. At Slimeroad Pill raw sewage flowed into the river!

Although I remember the preparations for the school event in the photograph where some of the children are wearing crossed bandoliers over white shirts and blouses - and being envious of Nigel Glew with his pop gun - I wasn鈥檛 involved in it, possibly because I was younger. There were nativity plays and other events, but the most memorable was 鈥淭he House that Jack built鈥�, in which I featured as the Cow with the crumpled horn!

We also visited Chepstow Castle when the Lysaghts still held it, with Mr and Mrs Williams living in as custodians. At the main gate one tugged at a small cannon ball on a chain that rang a bell far inside the ancient timber gate. The wicket would eventually be opened and Mr. Williams, in suit, collar and tie - and trilby - would let the group into a marvellous, thrilling world. He would then conduct you around the secret courtyards, the walls over- grown with ivy, the Lower Court taken up with the rambling great walnut tree whose limbs were supported by posts and chains. His history was highly imaginative and we came away, having learned that people had been thrown to the lions from the top of Marten鈥檚 Tower! A great peeper through cracks in doors, I recall seeing the chairs now in Chepstow Museum in the porch to the great hall that seems to have served as a sitting room.

I left Penn School on July 27th 1942 and went to the newly set-up Junior Mixed School in the Hall of the Sedbury Warrant Officers鈥� and Sergeants鈥� Mess. Tutshill School had a formidable reputation and this was where we should have gone. It would have meant mixing with the local children for the first time and we felt that some of the tougher ones might feel the time had come for a reckoning! However, after the strafing of Beachley in 1940, it seems to have been decided that it was not safe for children to walk to Tutshill.

I started at the new school in August 1942. The place was a very familiar one to me and I felt I was on home ground. Our social lives depended upon the Army Families鈥� Club and I would often accompany my parents, usually on a walk through the fields via the overgrown line of what is now Ormerod Road, to spend a few hours at the club. They would drink with their friends while other children and I played in a small room set aside, or out in the grounds.

The school was in the large hall and the classes all took place there - in the manner of a dame school! When I left in February 1944 the headmistress was Miss/Mrs(?) Doyle, but I remember Mrs Slade being there. I do not remember much about the lessons, but we seemed to do a lot of handicraft. My English, Reading and Writing were well up to standard, according to Miss Doyle鈥檚 final report, but my Arithmetic left much to be desired! This was one of the reasons that my father decided to take me away and send me to Oakfield. He was not overpleased when I brought home hessian shopping bags I had made, with flower embroidery in various kinds of decorative stitching! Underneath the stage were kept all kinds of things, but the most interesting to me were many mounted sepia prints of famous printings, such as 鈥淭he Boyhood of Raleigh鈥�. If I could get down there, I was delighted. The stage itself was not very deep, but had changing rooms on each side, reached by wooden stairs. The one production I recall vividly was the 鈥淧ied Piper of Hamelin鈥�, in which I featured as a member of Hamelin鈥檚 town corporation - complete with purple dressing gown, dyed stockings and one of my father鈥檚 old trilbys with ostrich feathers in the brim! Nigel Glew whom I had envied for carrying a pop gun in the Infants鈥� School, was the Pied Piper, but here I was not envious, since stage nerves made even my small appearance an ordeal. The rats were made in the Camp workshops, as were all the other props, and were drawn across the stage on wheels by cords.

Another feature that sticks in my memory was school milk. The half, or even quarter(?) pint bottles were delivered from Venn鈥檚 Dairy in crates and, in winter, it was the milk monitors鈥� job to bring them in and set them in the hearths around the cylindrical iron coke stoves whose chimney pipes were inside the Hall, giving out more heat. These bottles occasionally got forgotten for some days, so that the cream separated out and pushed out the cardboard top. There was some check that I cannot remember about who had how much milk. Sometimes the bottles too near the stove warmed right through. Of course, there were the usual scenes when someone put his thumb into the top too fiercely, with the resulting fountain of milk. Stale milk always brings instant recall of those days.

As I have said, I left the school in February 1944 and went to Oakfield Preparatory School, where the wonderful and energetic Miss Nightingale held court. Of the initial interview I remember clearly a summer鈥檚 day (clearly in 1943) with small girls being taught dancing on the lawns outside the house and about the drive. The tune was 鈥淒ance little glow-worm鈥� and was no doubt being played with gusto by Miss Nightingale herself.
It was all a totally new experience for me, since, although we had contact with the officers and their wives, I had not moved in middle class circles before, and I found the whole ambiance of the place intriguing.

First thing in the morning everyone gathered in the large room to the right of the entrance hall. I think it had been two rooms, since it had two doors. The centre of the room was occupied by either one enormous table or two or three smaller ones pushed together. There were prayers and notices and then everyone marched around the room to Miss Nightingale鈥檚 rendering of Schubert鈥檚 鈥淢arche Militaire鈥�. I have a feeling we then peeled off to our respective classrooms - of which there was only one other, plus the study.

There was no mistaking that we were all there to work, but the teaching was interesting and we were each treated individually on our own level. The first thing after assembly was bible study, usually the Old Testament. As for other lessons, my final terminal exam papers that I still have, show that we studied Geography, English Grammar, Scripture, Geometry, Dictation, General Knowledge, Algebra, Writing, French, English Literature and Arithmetic.

The War did not seem to intrude on our life in the school, and we even went for a day鈥檚 outing to Barry Island, perhaps in my last year. I was entered for a competition in the 鈥淪alute the Soldier鈥� campaign and actually won a prize of savings stamps for my efforts. My entry says much about the general attitude towards our enemy, when even children were praised for such sentiments as 鈥淟et us all now buy some guns, this is how to chase the Huns. See old Hitler on the run, drop the bombs and watch the fun!鈥� I collected my prize at a function in the Public Hall, though do not recall any feature of the occasion. I am sure we used the Hall for other school events, and would have gone to any exhibition that was mounted there. I do have a faint memory of a box of straw in some display that could be used for slow cooking food. The hall itself had its own particular aroma and presence.

VE Day does stand out, or at least the warm summer days around it. We had an elderly relative staying with us, a Mr. Dyer, who bought me a red, white and blue bow that could be pinned to the lapel. On the way home from school, I met him with my mother in Town where we most likely had tea at the Swiss Cafe. On the way from school we often called in at Bullocks or Miss Clarke鈥檚 shop, to see what was available. Woolworths was always a fascinating place and I loved looking at all the nails and
screws in their individual small trays on the sloping display counters, behind which the asistants stood. When crystallized ginger began to appear again, I became an addict!

VE Day at Sedbury was celebrated with a huge open-air tea that took place in the field opposite where the Pharmacy, shops and Post Office now stand. On that site was the long hut, in one end of which lived Councillor George Davies and his family and at the other was an Army let that became the 鈥淐herry Tree Cafe鈥�. In the field were set up tables in a long line, provided of course by the Warrant officers鈥� and Sergeants鈥� Mess. This was an event, sponsored by the Army, but open to the whole community in Sedbury and Pennsylvania. Those who had been hoarding food brought it out and the Cookhouse at the Camp turned up trumps. There were jellies, cakes, sandwiches, trifles and sweets. In the Hall of the Mess I am sure I remember there were slide shows normally used in the Camp鈥檚 Gymkhana. My father was eventually in sole charge of the Camp鈥檚 many slide shows, those most memorable of which was 鈥淒uck the Stooge鈥� where a luckless Army apprentice in bathing trunks sat on a hinged chair over a tank of water. The object was to throw wooden balls at the tongue of a face of Adolf Hitler, contact with which would release the mechanism and precipitate the boy into the water. There was also a magnificent wooden slide.

I have faint memories of meeting my mother off the Chepstow bus and being given my first banana. While playing in the neighbouring trees and fields, we would always keep an eye open for mothers coming from the shops, to see what they had managed to buy.

Although I can鈥檛 recall when, I did see the first Spitfire fly overhead- and the first jet fighter. Filton was not far away and test flights often passed overhead. From Sedbury Cliffs we could watch planes fire rockets at a target in the middle of the Severn, somewhere opposite Oldbury.

The presence of German prisoners had only a minimal effect on our lives and I don鈥檛 recall ever meeting or speaking to them. There was, however, a trade in things they made, in particular rope soled felt slippers of which we had a couple of pairs. I still have a tea trolley that was reputedly made by a prisoner up at the Beachley workshops. The camp at Sedbury was surrounded by a double wire fence on tall wooden poles. At the top of Grahamstown Road there was a double gate, but it would be opened to let you get to the Catholic Church, the bungalows in Edmond Road and the footpath to Sedbury Farm and Tutshill Halt. The camp was therefore divided into two parts. As the track passed into Grahamstown Grove and round the corner to the old water tower, the prisoners had made a beautiful garden with concrete models of wind and water mills on different levels.

The American impact came in the form of my father鈥檚 friendship with a Master Sergeant, but I don鈥檛 know where he was based. From Evelyn Kedward鈥檚 comments, the American troops had dealings with the stores at Beachley. American comics began to arrive in the house, not the small ones we were used to, like 鈥淢ickey Mouse鈥�, 鈥淔ilm Fun鈥�, 鈥淩adio Fun鈥�, 鈥淒andy鈥� and 鈥淏eano鈥�, but huge things the size of newspapers. Dagwood and Blondie, Prince Valiant and many other characters boosted our imaginations. I was also given a big box of chocolate of all kinds, including Suchard, that I kept under my bed and refused to bring out, unless it was a special occasion! I also still have an American softball bat and ball. My cousin, Vera, married a GI and went to live in America.

In Grahamstown Road, at the bottom end on the left, was until recently an Army hut, next to three bungalows that were also built as part of the 1917 camp. I recall going there once with the Penn School to take salvage that

Continues on contribution ID 4124828

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