大象传媒

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

Because of the War starting on September 3rd 1939 I have lived in Chepstow ever since. I was supposed to have gone to Canada to live when my father left the Regular Army(KU M/S/Sgt T. Mugridge left the Army Technical School Boys at Beachley on 22/11/38 for 20 Company RASC at Kensington Ref. 鈥淩obot鈥� April 39 Vol Xll No 34). I will never forget enjoying my summer holiday at my grandparents鈥� home at No. 33 Moor Street, when my mother informed me, with a grave face, we were at war! Mr. Hitler had caused it! I was very confused over this, as I had been used to the Irish blowing up places - as I lived in London.

The block of Army flats I lived in rocked on the night they blew up the new St. John鈥檚 Wood Underground Station (it was never completed until after the War).

Soon an Army lorry was parked in Thomas Street, behind my grandparents鈥� house, with all our furniture in it. I could not believe my regular visits to the zoos, Oxford Street stores and cartoon pictures were all over! Little did I know of what was going to happen - with life lived between Chepstow and Bulwark. On the 18th September my daily postcards from my father stopped. Instead he called in at No. 33 to say 鈥済oodbye鈥�. The next day he was being shipped out at Newport Docks for France.

My grandfather had a Decorating and Artist shop at No. 33. I spent a lot of time in the shop. The young errand boy had to join up, and all the staff talked about was which of their relatives had joined up too. The big fear was about bombing. At first everything seemed fairly normal, until one day huge Army tanks rumbled up Moor Street, churning the street up as they went. Chepstow was in no doubt we were at war! Army vehicles went through on their way to Newport Docks. Windows had to be blacked out and white strips of paper criss-crossed on the window panes. Two houses in Chepstow still had those strips on some of their windows for many years after.

My mother soon obtained a house in Bulwark and I was able to start school. The Bulwark School was situated in an old camp site. These huts were hurriedly being prepared to be occupied once again. Beautiful postcards arrived all the time from my father. He was billeted in a chateau owned by a countess(which we visited after the war. My father was given a rapturous welcome by the countess)near Arras. He sent pressed flowers from there and we sent pressed flowers to him from our garden.

Not long after starting to go to Bulwark School we were told we could not go our usual way to the school through the middle of the Camp, because the billets were now occupied with soldiers. The roads in Bulwark soon had platoons of soldiers marching around them, with screaming sergeants drilling them. I found this very distressing, having slept all of my early childhood days in Army camps and being made a great fuss of by very kind soldiers. One day it all got too much for me, when one particularly nasty sergeant was in a very bullying manner, teaching his platoon outside my house in Victoria Road - to signal with flags. I informed him in a loud voice that my father was in the Army, and he never spoke to his men like that! He was furious and told me to clear off! His platoon were in fits of laughter! One poor lad could not get the hang of it at all. Not to be deterred, I went into the house and got one of my father鈥檚 flag signal books and took it out to the poor lad. I cannot repeat what the sergeant said!

1941 turned out to be a bitterly cold winter with lots of snow. The fields in front of the houses in Victoria Road were lined up with Army lorries. I can still see the darkness of them against the white snow. The expected air raid didn鈥檛 seem to arrive and life went on, except for food getting scarce and, of course, rationing. In Camp Road there was a little shop in a house run by Mrs Hearn. Her sweets were kept behind chicken wire. Her little shop was a godsend to children. Down in Chepstow, Woolworth鈥檚 had boarded up where they had once had shelves and displayed posters about the War Effort. The one that said 鈥淒ig for Victory鈥� had a great effect.

Most of the houses in Bulwark had women only in them, their husbands having been called up. They all, including my mother, dug up their lawns and planted crops. I think I鈥檓 right in saying that 鈥淣ational Growmore鈥� was invented as an all-round, general feed for these crops. The farms around had Land Girls working very hard on them. One thing I found very hard to believe, when I went to live in Bulwark, was that our milk came out of huge churns and was put into our jugs, and brought round by horse and cart from Sharps鈥� Farm. In London milk was in bottles鈥�

The evacuees from the cities must have felt the same. Probably never seen a cow! My mother was given an option - she could take in evacuees or Army officers! She plumped for the officers - and our neighbours took in evacuees! We had a very pompous colonel (he had hailed from a very wealthy Cardiff family) to start with. The neighbours on one side of us had two Cockney girls, who arrived with their hair full of lice! The poor girls had to stand naked in the garden whilst buckets of louse killer were poured over their heads! They had come from very poor homes. These neighbours were extremely rich and the children must have wondered if they dare move in all the beautiful furniture. Lucky for them the husband was very elderly and had a great sense of humour and kept them well amused. The wife, much younger, was an excellent cook. The other side there were teenage boys. Very nice. I would think they had come with the same group that lived in Hardwick Court with Mrs Hartland. One of the very hard winters we had in the War, a pond froze over on Sharp鈥檚 Farm, and Mrs Hartland鈥檚 evacuees were able to skate on it with skates provided by her. Many years after, she gave me a pair.

Spring of 1940 came and went - and then May came - and Dunkirk! My mother received a telegram to say my father was missing, presumed dead! We were devastated. Friends of my mother kept coming up to her and sympathising. I could not believe I would never see my father again - who I adored. Dunkirk was a big blow. All the singing of 鈥淲e鈥檙e going to hang out the washing on the Siegfried line, Mr. Hitler鈥� fell a bit flat! All the good-humoured banter on the Tommy Handley 鈥淚TMA鈥� 大象传媒 show about the War didn鈥檛 seem so funny. We weren鈥檛 winning this war.

On June 5th my father returned to this country, safe and sound! I was at No. 33 Moor Street the day he returned. My grandparents had a green Amazon parrot who was a big fan of my father鈥檚. He recognised his footsteps coming up the stairs and went screeching at the top of his voice. A welcome my father never forgot! My father was then posted to Evesham and my mother and I went with him. When we returned, we found Chepstow in a very upset state. Air raids had started. The Germans were starting to bomb Bristol and Avonmouth. Bulwark had a very clear view of the huge barrage balloons over Avonmouth, protecting the warehouses and oil tanks. These raids began to start in earnest. We used to get in the cupboard under the stairs and, when we were at No. 33 Moor Street, we went down into the cellar. My father had been posted to London and was used to very bad air raids, but was very shocked when he came on leave, to see dog-fights going on up and down the Severn, when our planes were trying to stop the German planes which flew up the English Channel, ready to turn into Bristol. All the neighbours in Victoria Road were in their gardens, watching, and I鈥檓 sure that so was the rest of Bulwark! One night a bomb dropped on a warehouse in Avonmouth that had bacon in it. The smell came wafting across Bulwark and we could see the flames shooting up in the air. Another startling night, the Germans dropped incendiary bombs all along the cliffs where the motorport now stands near the Severn Bridge. The gorse was on fire all along the cliffs. It was assumed that the purpose of this was to guide the bombers that followed behind as they came up the Channel, so that they knew when to turn into Bristol. That night Bristol suffered a massive raid! One of the reasons for wanting to develop an airport alongside the mud flats at Magor today is apparently because water absorbs the sound of planes! It never fooled the sheep on the top of the hill on Sharp鈥檚 Farm! Long before the alert siren went off, the sheep were bleating constantly. The lady next door would hang out of her bedroom window and shout for the benefit of the neighbours that 鈥渢he bloody Jerries are coming!鈥� when she heard the sheep bleating! I don鈥檛 know how we ever went to school the next day! The extended Summertime caused havoc when you were sent to bed while your friends were still out playing!

Different battalions came to the camp and, very early in the War, one of them brought with it a Londoner called Jack Oakey. We nicknamed him 鈥淢ickey Rooney鈥�! He adored children and we adored him. He used to pile us into the back of a Bren Gun Carrier and drive us all around Bulwark. His wife, who was very good-looking, came to stay at our house, so that she could see him. He was very liked by the children who lived in Victoria Road and, on his time off, he concreted the paths and backyards of their houses(including ours). I think they鈥檙e still there now in some houses!

Two army officers were billeted with us and with them came their batman and cook. The batman was fascinating. He sat cleaning their leathers and brass buttons and talking. Always talking - in a very knowledgeable way. He studied the dictionary in his spare time. He was a Cockney and it was a shame he never had a good education. He fell in love with a very pretty girl from Sedbury and married her. His daughter has remained a friend for many years. The cook, however, was a handful! My mother and I enjoyed fabulous meat pies and fruit tarts. But he infuriated the local ARP man. Because he got so hot in the small kitchen, he would open the backdoor. As we were to be in total blackout, light flooding out was taboo! The set-to鈥檚 would leave anything on 鈥淒ad鈥檚 Army鈥� standing!

Down in Chepstow rationing was strictly adhered to in the shops. Black Market food was to be had. Sugar and flour being the most wanted by my grandmother, because a dear little elderly lady from the country still managed to bring in farm butter and - to me - ghastly clotted cream! I only liked 鈥淟ondon Cream鈥� which was single cream that we used to buy from David Grieg鈥檚 in St. John鈥檚 Wood! My grandfather, who always did the shopping, was fobbed off with the story by someone who was involved in what she described as 鈥渟urplus rationed food!鈥� She was his youngest daughter鈥檚 mother-in-law. She ran the 鈥淩ummer Inn鈥� in St. Mary Street. The cellar under my shop in St. Mary Street also had 鈥渟urplus food鈥� in it! My grandfather was the most honest man, who blankly refused to have Red Cross parcels trotted down through Chepstow to St. Mary Street, picked up his requirements from my grandmother and then trotted back up to her. If my grandmother had ever known how the food had been obtained in the first place, I dread to think what would have happened!

I spent a great deal of my time in Chepstow, and one day was amazed to see long gun carriages drawn by mules being brought up the High Street by Indian soldiers with turbans on!

The mules came to the Arch and blankly refused to go through! The more the Indians shouted at them, the more they dug their heels in! They eventually got them through and turned up Welsh Street to go to the Racecourse. The second time I saw trouble over our Arch was when a huge American Army lorry approached it, but it was too big to go through. Eventually, after numerous Chepstonians tried to guide the lorry through, the driver got in and drove it straight at it! Stones fell everywhere, but he was through!

In 1941, on June 19th, my father sailed on a luxury liner to South Africa. My mother and I went to London to see him off. I left the school in Bulwark and went to school in Chepstow.

Various nationality troops started coming to the camp. An all black American regiment came. I remember getting off the bus at the 鈥淭ree鈥� (KU By the Red & White offices was a stone roundabout, identical to the one that still survives at the beginning of Ormerod Road in Sedbury. A tree grew in the centre of it, in fact it might have been an existing tree incorporated into the Garden City development.) and walking along Alpha Road and seeing the whites of their eyes shining in the dark! One moonlight night my mother and I were walking from the bus and three of them were walking along together. One said 鈥淲hat a wonderful night for romance!鈥� My mother grabbed my arm and we went down that road at some pace! I was told many years later by people who worked for the Forestry Commission that they were working in the woods along the Tintern Road and came upon them on exercise. They were down behind the boulders and, hearing the Forestry workers coming down, shot up from them. They had never seen black people and were absolutely terrified!

The big pastime for a lot of us in Bulwark was 鈥渟py spotting鈥�. A very strange man played right into our hands. He kept hanging around the woods at the back of Victoria Road, which joined up to the Camp. We went into overdrive and our imaginations ran away with us. He just had to be German! A few days later we plucked up courage (there were quite a few of us) to seek him out and say hello. To our great disappointment, he spoke fluent English! We had not heard of double agents!

Continues on contribution ID 4124486

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.