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This story was submitted to the people war Website by a volunteer from Tiverton Museum of Mid Devon Life on behalf of Silverton Village Upstream Group.

Silverton Village Upstream Group.

Recollections of the effects of the war on life in small Devonshire communities recorded by members of Silverton village Upstream group (all over 70) as part of a local history project.

In common with most of the population it was from the wireless that we learned that war had been declared. If a family had a wireless it was one which only worked if the accumulator battery was well charged. Care was taken at this time of national crisis to ensure we got ´óÏó´«Ã½ news by carting the accumulator off to the local garage to be charged regularly at a cost of 6 old pence. One of us, with no wireless at home, recalls her family trooping into the next door cottage in Silverton to listen to the somber broadcast. At East Allington the village shopkeeper, when he heard the news, rushed through the village shouting: 'It's war! It's war' at the top of his voice.

Despite some apprehension as to what the future might bring, and anxiety over those men already 'called up" and the many about to be, for the adults it was a matter of just getting on with it. We might be stuck in a rural backwater but there was a job to do and There was no point in fretting and complaining. One urgent task was to get tile harvest in. For the children it was very much life as usual: school, then play in the lanes & fields & gardens in beautiful September weather.

It was the arrival of hordes of evacuees from London, Plymouth, Bristol, Exeter which really brought the war to our door. Billeting officers came round to see what rooms we had to spare. On arrival the evacuee children accompanied by some mothers and teachers, were taken to the parish hall to await allocation. Some of the more canny local ladies went and made their choice. For others it was a knock on the door and ''Here are your evacuees Mrs X". They were tired, disorientated, forlorn. The locals too were somewhat apprehensive but most people on both sides tried hard to make the best of a bad job. Happy and lasting relationships developed between many evacuees and their lost families. Many evacuees loved life in rural Devon and stayed, for years or even for the rest of their lives.

One evacuee to Silverton like rural life so much that when his School returned to London he found his way back to the village to work on the farm hailed back to London and School again, he returned to Silverton as soon as he could.

Others were less happy and returned to their cities preferring German bombs to rural peace and quiet. There could be friction between evacuee mothers and the local housewives. For the most part it was simply because they did not understand each other's very different way of life.

Inevitably so many evacuees caused logistical problems. One of us recalled as many as eight evacuees sharing her modest family home in Cullompton. When her much-missed soldier father came home unexpectedly on a forty eight hour pass, the mother's initial reaction was less of joy, more of consternation, because there was no bed for him, Overcrowding at school was a problem. At Silverton village school a big room was divided by curtains. There might be noisy woodwork going on one side of the curtain against 'sums' on the other side. When Plymouth was bombed Devonport Girls' High School shared the premises of the Girls' Middle School in Tiverton. The Middle Schools also welcomed a group of Jewish children, saved from the Nazi invasion of Europe. We had no real idea of what these clever, serious young people had gone through before reaching safety in Devon.

One of us was herself evacuated from one part of Devon to another. She lived at East Allington in the Slapton Sands area which was commandeered prior To D-Day as a training ground for American troops.
Her family was given short notice to pack up and leave and they came to Silverton where the only accommodation available to them was a derelict cottage without mains services, but full of owls’ nests.

Bombs did, of course, rain on Devon towns. One of us, who remembered being in the maternity ward of Exeter hospital during the blitz, recalled with some glee being given an cannel washing bowl and a blanket to wear on her head as a protection against the bombs, Very inadequate protection but all that was available.

Silverton families stood on their doorsteps and watched the sky over Exeter turn red during the fierce incendiary raids on the city. One memory was of a narrow escape from the bombs which fell on Kingsbridge- Sometimes fleeing enemy aircraft jettisoned their bombs in local fields and this caused great excitement. In fact, those of us who were children in the war years had to admit, somewhat shamefacedly, that the war brought as much excitement as fear into our quiet lives. When a bomb was jettisoned we all rushed off to find the crater and grab a souvenir.

One memory involves a crater, a farmer and a dead cow. A bomb fell in the field of a Silverton farmer, one of whose cows had just died. "'No point in wasting that hole", he said and buried his cow in it. He also salvaged the tail fin of the bomb and drove it round the area in his lorry for everyone to see. He was immensely proud of his souvenir to war.

Children had fun doing their little bit for the war effort. There was a paper shortage so scrap was collected for re-pulping. The boys of Silverton school really put their backs into it and were awarded a cup for 'the highest amount of waste paper collected for the war effort'. Some girls in Cullompton collected old newspapers which they sold to the local 'chippie' and bought wool to knit socks for two of their teachers who had joined the Airforce. What excitement there was when the US army arrived. The British troops who first took over our towns and villages were replaced by an entirely different species of soldier with better quality uniforms, better pay and soft, squishy boots. Nothing quite like it had ever hit our rural communities.

Dances held in parish halls livened up the lives of the young women considerably. As well as doling out sweets and chewing-gum the American soldiers put on special events for us. For example a Fourth of July celebration in Silverton included all manner of wonders - freshly filed doughnuts, rides on their vehicles, and they even set up a radio link to Bradninch so that boys from me two villages could talk to each other. Silverton lads learned that Americans liked roasted chestnuts so they gathered nuts for them at KiIlerton. In return the soldiers would cook the boys a hearty, delicious and much appreciated meal.

When an American plane crashed at Silverton the lone sentry left to guard it was overwhelmed by all the local lads rushing to have a look. Short of shooting one of them, he, was at a loss, so finished up by letting them crawl all over the wreck, and sit in the cockpit. What a day that was! And then suddenly, as D-Day approached, they were all gone. Towns and villages became uncannily quiet. A seemingly never-ending convoy of trucks full of US soldiers made its way along the A38 at Cullompton, heading for the coast. They waved and threw out packets of sweets and cigarettes, surely understanding, as we did, that so many would never return.

Some Devon-American ties have been maintained. Local girls married American soldiers. And recently our over 90 year old member had a visit from a former American soldier who had been billeted in Silverton.
Perhaps he will see this website and decide to contribute his side of the story, In fact in March 2005 that very soldier. Homer Barnwell of Jacksonville, responded to the website with his own contribution as follows:

I was one of many teenage U.S. soldiers who arrived in England in December of 1943. Stayed until June 1944. I had to adjust to cold, foggy weather, as it was all new to me. We trained at Silverton all day and some nights. We had very little time to visit and tour the town. Most of our visits to town were at night so we saw very little of the scenery. We didn't get to see and talk to very many of the town people. Most of our visits were to the Pub where we drank beer and played darts. The men at the Pub were very nice to us; taught us how to play darts and believe me, some of them could throw very well. We had lots of fun but I don't remember our team ever winning a game. I don't remember any of me people's names. I often wish I could. My fondest memories are of the dances the townspeople hosted and the friendliness shown us. In March of 2001 I was fortunate enough to return To Silverton with my son and daughter-in-law. After 57 years I was amazed at the few changes.My most emotional tune was when I visited my old campsite, now known as Jubilee Field. The cement slabs were still there where our campsite was. On my return visit people helped make my trip very pleasant and complete.

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