大象传媒

Iwas six years old when the war started. We were an ordinary family of four, mother, father and a sister Mary five years older than me.On the first of September 1939 I was taken with the rest of my classmates at Newton Infant's School to Gosport Station where we got on a train to Where? no one knew, I left my mother crying on the station, we were given bags of nuts and raisins and sweets and up to know, it was an adventure. We eventually arrived at Denmead and I was chosen to go and live at Ashling House together with five others. We slept on lilo's and I remember crying for my mother as I was the youngest. In about a month or so I was the only one left, it was a very grand house and I was looked after by the maids below stairs! They were very good to me, there were children in the family but they did not mix with me. On one occassion I was taken up through the baize door into the house to see the birthday tea for one of them but I was not invited! Eventually, I to left there and spent a short time elsewhere then my parents decided enough was enough and by Christmas I returned home. Meanwhile my sister having just started at Gosport Grammar school was evacuated to Eastleigh where she stayed for the duration of the war. Soon after my return the first bombing raids started, our air raid shelter was not ready and I well remember the french windows rattling and the sound of the big guns, I still don't like thunder, loud bangs and the sound of the sirens. As children war was abit of an adventure, there was shrapnel to be collected, and metal shavings from behind Erskines Garage temporarily turned into a factory. Mother was one of the few woman who could drive in 1939 and she was soon enrolled in the then W.V.S. driving the Mayor to bomb sites after raids and distributing fodd supplies, I hate margarine to this day after helping her with large packs of this yellow fat, my other hate is corn beef, though we were pleased to eat it then. Being a naval port many men did not return and I well remember when the Hood was sunk and the family next door lost their father. I suppose in some ways it was an exciting place to be, we took for granted stink pots burning most nights, barrage balloons, huge tanks of water, a warning cone that was hoisted if a raid was imminent or in progress, on my way to school or back I was told to run like mad when it was up. my sister stayed away for the duration and it always caused some jealousy as I was considered the spoilt baby at home with the family. My father was in the ARP as a warden, and I remember one night when we incendary bombs had been dropped he managed to put his foot through our neighbours ceiling. We were lucky in that we only had things like windows blown out and an unexploded bomb nearby. I remember the ships coming back from Dunkirk and later the troops returning from Dieppe. The years passed and the bombing got less, then came D Day, we had been to see my grandfather in hospital and on the way back the roads leading to Stokes Bay were packed bumper to bumper with tanks and lorries waitng to cross. For days after more and more soldiers passed through, they would throw coins to us, but having been told not to take money I left them in the gutter! and was then told I was stupid! At last came D Day how happy we were, we had a huge bonefire on a bomb site and danced with all the soldiers and sailors. Then came V J day and the street parties. My friend and I would cycle to look at the Prisoner of War at HMS St. Vincent, I think we thought they wouldn't look like ordinary men as we had always disliked the dreaded Germans. My sister came home, but it was a long time before things became normal, food was still rationed and clothes in short supply. It's a long time ago now and it was awful at the time, but still a bit of an adventure to us as children . People would always help each other, and I think it made me able to cope with life.

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