大象传媒

I don鈥檛 think I will return to this delightful little Northamptonshire village situated about 5 miles from exit 16 (Daventry ) and about 1 mile from the A5.but Norton and I go back 64 years to the time of the blitz on London.
We had already been evacuated once before at the outbreak of war with somewhat mixed results and like many other kids at that time were brought home by the first Xmas because nothing was happening, this period would become known as the phoney war, little did we know!
France was attacked via Belgium in May 1940 and within a few weeks the British Expeditionary Force who had gone there to bolster the so called impregnable Maginot line was outflanked and forced to retreat to Dunkirk and the miracle that followed.
Former French airfields were now occupied by the German Air Force and it didn鈥檛 take long before the Luftwaffe began attacking shipping in the Channel and then RAF Airfields in the South with a view to softening up our defences before launching an invasion. This then was the start of the Battle of Britain.
September7th was beautiful day weather wise but that didn鈥檛 stop me going to the pictures in the afternoon. My Mum had said that if the sirens sounded I was to come home immediately even though the cinema was only 150 yards away. As sure as the Good Lord made little apples and at the beginning of the climax of the film the warning went off and being the dutiful son out I came. But even then dogfights were taking place miles up in the sky. I stood watching enthralled before I was hauled indoors by my braces! And a neighbour. There was a lull, the all clear sounded but it wasn't long before they started up again, that then was, as far I was concerned the start of the London Blitz. Night after night the German bombers came over dropping their high explosives and fire bombs, firstly on the docks and warehouses, and then all over the Capital.
My parents then reluctantly decided that my brothers and I were to go away again. I felt more saddened than scared because not only there was a good chance that my Mum and Dad could get killed but in addition my Father was due to be called up for the Army and at that time things did not look too rosy for our services.
So, in the latter part of September, 1940 there I was on a train with other kids heading out of Euston going to goodness knows. About an hour and half later we pulled up at a deserted station except for one railway man on the platform. One of the girls in the carriage put her head out of the window and asked where we were. He said something, she put her head back in and said, "I think he said Sweden".
Now I was no great shakes at Geography but I knew where Sweden was and I certainly had no recollection of crossing any water. Of course it turned out to be Weedon, quite a busy little Northamptonshire rail junction in that far off day but later closed by Dr Beeching in his savage purge on British Rail Stations.
"All off" was the cry, and of course we dutifully obeyed. On to coaches and less than ten minutes we were at our next destination, the Army Cavalry Barracks. Here we shown into a large mess hall where we sat down to a smashing meal served by sympathetic soldiers who no doubt had children of their own. We spent the night there sleeping on bunks without mattresses, on bare springs but with two blankets. However we were so tired having had very little sleep over the past few weeks because of the continual bombing we had to be woken up at 8 am where a substantial breakfast awaited us. Lashings of eggs, bacon. (yes, we all ate it!) beans, tomatoes, and toast, washed down with milk or tea. After this wonderful meal back on the coaches and about twelve minutes later we pulled up at a little village school, and thus became my first acquaintance with Norton.
I, and my youngest brother were to be billeted at Manor Farm run by a tenant farmer, Fred Robinson, and his wife Eleanor.They had no kids of their own. And although quite firm (she had been a teacher in her younger days) they were very fair and indeed kind.
Now the village consisted of about 45 houses, a pub, The White Horse, a small shop known as the Co Op and an equally small Post Office selling everything run by the formidable Mrs Yates. I use the word "formidable" because while she was a very big lady. her husband Jack was diminutive, but in his favour he was also one of the two handymen in the village.
The whole village and surrounding farmlands were owned by the Bath dynasty, their representative was Lady Beatrice Thynne, a small woman always dressed in black who lived in a stately home called Norton Hall. She had this habit of calling in at the various households always at tea time where the ladies felt obliged to make her a cup of tea even though tea was in short supply or rationed, when ever she walked through the village people doffed their hats with a "Good Morning" or "Good Afternoon milady", the villagers were in fact as far I could see at times terrified of her.
Not so the evacuees, when they asked why they should grovel, Nelly Radcliffe, the Headmistress said that Lady B was a lady, the girl who said we were at Sweden replied that her Mum was also a lady but no one raised their hats to her, Nellie replied that
We did things differently in London
The vicar of Norton Parish Church was the Rev. William Slater Hills, a throwback to the nineteenth century as far as I was concerned who suddenly found himself with what in his own words was probably one of the finest choirs in the area .Now although there were local kids, neither he nor they seemed to get organised as a choir and it was left to the evacuees to unofficially get one going, the amazing thing was that approximately 75 per cent of the kids were Jewish and a number of them were being trained for Barmitzvah
(Confirmation) at the age of 13. I should have had mine on September 7th but because of the war situation it was abandoned. Incidentally, at a nearby village called Badby a Jewish lad had his ceremony in the local church where practically the whole village including of course the vicar attended and the ensuing festivities took place in the evening at the local pub where everyone was invited!
However back to our choir, as most of the girls and boys had learned quite a few of the hymns at their London schools they took the rest of the service in their stride but they never wore surplices. Of course most of them went to church at the request of their foster parents, in any case there wasn鈥檛 much to do otherwise.
Now Nelly, the headmistress was rather sweet on the Rev and although there were times when the pair would disappear I personally do not think anything untoward took place, in any case his Mum lived with him at the vicarage and he was extremely fond of her, she was in fact much nicer and kind to the evacuees.
There was one other teacher, a Miss Gulliver who taught the infants, she was about 23 and rather attractive, some of us older ones who were feeling the first awakenings of youth rather fancied her but of course she probably couldn鈥檛 have cared less about us, in any case she was engaged to a sailor so forget it!
So, there we were a total of about 60 kids with three teachers all in one room trying to learn, or trying to listen. This situation couldn鈥檛 last long and within a few weeks many of us olduns were sent to one of three senior schools in Daventry, just over 2 miles away. As there were only 2 buses a day serving the route it was "walkies" both ways. My problem was that the stuff being taught I had learned 2 years earlier and although the education authorities appreciated this there was no room for me at the localGrammar school. This situation continued until it was decided by I dot know who that I would return to my old school in the Rugby area, this took place about October, 1941 but thats another story. Now within a week or so of arriving at Norton I was in bother, what had I done? Well, old Sue Major had lit her oil lamp (no gas, electricity. or in many cases no running water so no flush toilets) and had not drawn her curtains, her window was almost about a foot above ground level so I banged on her window and shouted "put that light out", after all it was an offence to have a light showing at night as it could be easily seen from the air. Next day a queue formed down at the farmhouse complaining of my action. I was told in no uncertain terms that I should have knocked at her door and asked her politely to draw her curtains! I'm damned sure if any German aircraft had been flying overhead they wouldn鈥檛 have waited!
The Major dynasty was like the Mafia in of course a harmless way, there were so many of them, and many other villagers were related to them, so if you upset one, you upset quite a lot but they were like most of the villagers good people.
I saw my first harvest "safely gathered in" and when some of the veg was auctioned I was able to buy a load of spuds, carrots, etc for next to nothing and send them back to Mum.
A few weeks after my arrival and in bed one night I was wakened by the sound of aircraft flying over the house. I recognised the drone of the engines and leaping out of bed saw what I knew to be German aircraft making their way somewhere, it turned out to be Coventry, about 20 miles away and although we could not hear the explosions we did see the glow of fires in the sky. Of course this was something entirely new to the villagers and even Fred Robinson who had served in the trenches in the last war had net seen anything like that. Whilst on the subject of war I should mention that the farm was the headquarters of the Home Guard whilst Fred was "Captain Manwering" only much more efficient even though his rank was only Sergeant. His Corporal was Bill Blencowe, another first war veteran, my middle brother was billeted with the Blencowes, again a very nice family, incidentally one of the daughters finished up with 14 kids!. Later Fred was made up to Captain and Bill to Lieutenant, but if you remember "Dads Army", that indeed was Norton's Home Guard! One disadvantage was they had no "wheels" but Alf Yates, brother of Jack did! He was a Private, so they gave him a stripe, problem solved Now every evening two members would come to the farm and pick up two rifles and go to a small hut nearby and keep watch, each rifle had one cartridge case, some weeks later they found one cartridge missing, it would appear one of the twits had taken a shot at a rabbit and probably blew the thing to pieces! But they never found out who the culprit was. T hat was the only time they ever fired a shot in anger!
As the months came and went I began to immerse my life into the village and of course the farm and what I had originally took to be simple folk realised they just thought differently to us townies.I saw the planting of the grain and later helped with the harvesting of same, perhaps sometimes taking the tea and sandwiches to the helpers, many of them working after they had finished their own jobs, it was after all extra income. It was at that time I began to realise what a wonderful thing nature was. I used to look forward to Saturdays where I was able to help to work on the farm, clearing the stables, feeding the horses, and changing their straw. I was taught how to milk a cow, no electric milking in those days. I brought the cows in from the fields for milking and then led them out again I also helped feed the pigs, a much maligned creature who pound for pound gives more edible meat than any other. Because of the wartime restrictions they were only allowed to slaughter a pig for home consumption once or twice a year but that was something to see, this was done by a butcher from Daventry, and what a master he was especially in the cutting up.The carcasse was then hung on the wall and pieces cut off as required. For those who appreciate bacon I can assure you there is in nothing like a piece of home cured bacon, mind it has to be hung up for months before it s dried and cured.
During my stay my Father was called up for military service so the Robinson's invited Mum up to stay for a while which she did, later she volunteered for war work and went to Rugby where she worked at a factory (BTH) which produced electrical parts for weapons.This later became part of General Electric and later still my old school colleague Arnie (laterLord) Weinstock became M.D.and a large shareholder. Because of lack of transport facilities at Norton she moved nearer to her place of employment but we were still able to see her often.
Whilst at Norton some of the epic happenings of World War 2 took place. The flats that I had lived in all my young life were bombed and over 200 people were killed, ironically enough in an air raid shelter under the flats. On the world stage Hitler made his most fatal mistake by attacking the Soviet Union, remarkable advances into that country at first but eventually stopped at Stalingrad and at the gates of Moscow and what in those far off days was called Leningrad (now St Petersburg), the tragic loss of one of our great leviathans, H.M.S.Hood and the ensuing chase and sinking of the German battleship, Bismarck, later again the destruction of another German giant, Scharnhorst, the battles that raged in the Libyan and Egypt Deserts etc.
Another happening but this time much more localised was the decision of 2 evacuees, Charlie Sifford and Victor Bradford, known as Nelson on account of his one eye to run away back to London. They got as far as Weedon before they were "caught" and brought back but within a few weeks their respective parents brought them home. An amusing incident happened when Nelson was fitted with a glass eye. He boasted that the glass was so hard it could not be broken and he kept throwing it into the air and letting it hit the ground to prove it. One day he invited me to have a throw, I did, it hit the ground and smashed into hundreds of pieces, once again he was known as Nelson!
It was a sad day when I finally left the village but Mrs. R.said that whenever I wanted to come back and stay for a while I would be most welcome. I had by this time required a bicycle, the same one that the old man did the knowledge on before the war, and which I, and later my two brothers (not at the same time of course) used and so most weekends would find me cycling the 10 miles or so from Rugby to Norton. Later when I returned to London to start work and Mum was back having managed to get a transfer I would spend a week or so back on the farm and meeting up and swapping stories with the local kids who by now had grown up. I told them of my "conquests" (mostly made up) with the fair sex. When I joined the RN the invitation still held good but it was not until I had been demobbed that I spent a few days there and it coincided with that terrible winter of 46/47
But I like to think I was able to assist in some way even changing the straw in the cowshed and feeding hay to the cattle as the snow was too deep for the beasts to get to the grass.

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