大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from Age Concern, Dorchester on behalf of Adrian Downton and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Downton fully understand the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

I was born on 4 April 1939 and my family lived at 31 Dagmar Road, Dorchester, Dorset. The first thing I remember was the wire reinforced cage, about 4 feet by 3 feet, which fitted under the kitchen table. My elder brother and I 鈥� he was 2 years older 鈥� used to sleep in this. Mother used to sleep under the stairs. The Air Raid Warden, a retired police sergeant, lived next door with his wife. When the air raid siren sounded he used to pop in to make sure that all was well.

Mother took us up to a Dorset airfield 鈥� probably Moreton 鈥� and Mum said, 鈥淭his is your Dad鈥�. He picked us up and we didn鈥檛 know who he was. I don鈥檛 remember my father until I was about 7 or 8. He served abroad in the Air Force (after training in Dorset) and was demobbed long after the war. To me the saddest thing about the war was that we didn鈥檛 know our Dad. At school they used to read out the names of the Dads who were going to be demobbed. At last they read out our Dad鈥檚 name. When he came home it didn鈥檛 mean anything. We resented Dad and we didn鈥檛 like him correcting us.

We went to Maud Road School, Dorchester. When the sirens went we had to sit in the school trenches until the all clear. The teachers used to sing nursery rhymes to us with choruses that we could all join in. The school caretaker used to wear a tin hat and help us into the trenches. We weren鈥檛 frightened. We didn鈥檛 understand what was happening.

Mum took us to Fordington after an air raid and there were dead cows in a field with their legs in the air. Mum said that the cows were dead but I didn鈥檛 know what 鈥渄ead鈥� meant. Mum also took us to see the bombed houses at Chapelhay up above the harbour at Weymouth. Dad鈥檚 uncle managed a farm at Stratton and most of his family lived there too. We used to stay at the farm at weekends. We ate very well there.

Prior to D-Day all the streets round where we lived filled up with amphibious vehicles (we called them 鈥渄ucks鈥�) and tanks and jeeps. Camouflage netting was stretched right over some of the streets to hide the vehicles on either side. It was like walking up tunnels going along the roads then. One day we were told not to go to school and to stay indoors. All day we heard noise and screeching of tyres. There was a lot of dust. The next day all the American vehicles had gone.

At Maud Road School there was a massive great water tank, 30 feet in diameter and about 2 or 3 feet deep (we thought it was for putting bombs in). I can remember an evacuee, billeted in Monmouth Road, who came from the East End of London. He was always crying and was always in trouble. One day the teacher lost patience with him and in a real rage went to get hold of him. He shot out of the door and jumped into the great water tank. He went to the middle so he couldn鈥檛 be reached and stayed there up to his shoulders in water. He wouldn鈥檛 come out. In the end he came out when he was so cold that he couldn鈥檛 bear it any longer.

We saw German Prisoners of War in black shabby overalls working very hard in a trench in Maud Road. It was the sadness in their faces that has stuck in my memory.

There was far more sharing. People who had allotments would share their produce. If you killed one of your chickens, you would swop with someone else鈥檚 chicken so that you didn鈥檛 eat your own.

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