大象传媒

I'm a pupil from Heaton Manor Comprehensive School, Newcastle Upon-Tyne, entering David Jackson's story onto the website, and they fully understand the website terms and conditions of use.

When I was just 14 years of age, the Second World War started. I well remember that Sunday morning, the 3rd of September 1939, when Neville Chamberlain spoke on the wireless informing the British nation was at war with Germany and Hitler.

All efforts of maintaining peace had failed and that there was no alternative but war against the nazi transgressions.

My mother took my brother, my two sisters and myself close to her and wept. We of course did not really realise the meaning of this, as we were all really too young to understand 鈥� she remembered well 1914 鈥� 1918.

Everyone was affected to an extent never before realised by a civilian population during any conflict between major nations.

The school, which I attended at that time, was closed. It was a modern secondary school, built in the mid 1930鈥檚, and could be easily converted for hospital use, thankfully it was never required. Our education, what there was of it, was housed in Church and public places, and much to the annoyance of my mum, a real canny sort, all pupils were asked to subscribe one shilling per week, per head, towards heating costs (maybe that is why I left school early) that鈥檚 my excuse anyway.

At this time we lived in a council housing estate in the southwest suburbs of Glasgow. My father being employed in a near-by factory as a Cost Clerk, which was engaged in something very 鈥渉ush hush鈥�.

In the early months of the War, a time called 鈥淭he Phoney War鈥�, the man-in-the-street was not so badly affected as was expected. The Germans did not at that time consider mass killing of British citizens an effective method, but they came to change their minds in a most horrific manner not much later.

We had our food supplies severely cut and all essentials, food, clothes, were rationed, this was a system which was very necessary and I consider now equable and fair, although there were black markets for all kind of consumable items, mostly food and clothing and other essentials.

My mother decided to send my two sisters to a family in the USA for their safety, as there were many reports of Nazi atrocities being circulated and she was very afraid for their sakes. She spent many hours, late into the night, making clothes for them, with whatever materials or fabrics she could find. She was always very good at 鈥渕ake do and mend鈥�. However, a ship transporting many such children was torpedoed by a German submarine and this disaster made my Mother decide she would rather have us all together come what may.

We, the children that is, were not considered for evacuation, as we lived in a reasonably 鈥渟afe鈥� area but there were tens of thousands of less fortunate children who were subjected to this, not all with happy results for them. City kids did not take to country folks and their ways and longed to be returned home, which many did to their ultimate cost.

As I said earlier, everyone was affected. The young men, aged 18 and over, were conscripted in the armed forces. My brother Seymour, at 17 years and 8 months, joined the Royal Navy where he saw action, which had an adverse affect on the rest of his life, as did many of our pals and school chums.

At home we had all to do our bit, carrying of course our gas mask, which was contained in wee cardboard boxes, on a string, which you carried over your shoulder. Too bad if the 鈥淧olis鈥� or the Air Raid Warden found you not wearing one. I remember on my way home from school, I used to look for any extras that the shop might have, sweets, chocolate or some other 鈥済oodie鈥�, and run home and tell my mum in the hope of being lucky. The black out was enforced, and there were people employed, we called then Black-Out-Wardens, to ensure that even the smallest chink of light was not shown in case of air raids.

Those fortunate to live in a house with a garden had shelters built there, made of corrugated steel and set in a hole in the ground. The roof being covered by earth, stones or grass clods. I think they were called 鈥淎nderson鈥� shelters after some member of the war cabinet. As the war went on we spent more nights in the shelter as well, sitting as close as possible to keep ourselves warm, waiting for the 鈥淎ll Clear鈥� siren to sound. We were well warned not to pick any pieces of bomb shrapnel as they were very sharp and could cause severe cuts to the hands. When I was about 16 years of age I joined the Civil Defence Unit as a messenger, stationed at the local Public Baths, or 鈥淲ash Hooses鈥� as they were termed. We had a blue uniform very similar to the army ones with the same tackety boots and tin hats and we were trained to also render first aid, if and when we could, I had so many nights a week at this, including fire-watching, this entailed sitting all night on the roof of some frightening high building, usually in the Centre of Glasgow, watching for incendiary bombs being dropped by German Aircraft, with a wee whistle to blow when necessary. My sister also had duties too, usually at the First Aid Post, providing comfort, tea etc.

Nothing was wasted or thrown away, and neighbours helped each other to a degree that would be quite astonishing to the present generation, a sense of genuine camaraderie existed. When the Clydeside, that is the shipyards in Greater Glasgow, was blitzed by the German Airforce, who came over in large numbers, and laid waste to the large areas, and killed and maimed thousands of civilians, many of whom did not have proper air-raid shelters, the help and support given by one person to another was more than remarkable.

At that time I was working as an Office Junior in Glasgow, and part of my duties was to visit the many Glasgow Docks to arrange the supplying of ships with special paints, which were of special camouflage colours. The tram lines were blown away and no trams could make the journey I wanted to take, so I walked all the way, I remember the destruction that I saw that morning, huge solid tenements no longer existed, miles of utter destruction.

At the age of 18 years I was called to serve in HM Forces but was not accepted on health grounds but was ordered to find employment in 鈥渨ar work鈥� which I did do, this was an unhappy time for me. Friends I went to school with had been called up and some paid the full cost, others were prisoner of war in Germany or the Far East 鈥� sad memories indeed.

Thinking of prisoners of war, near where we lived, this was in the latter stage of the war, was a POW camp. In the beginning there were Italians and every morning and evening they were marched to and from their place of work. Our neighbour had a wee brown dog, and it used to wait for these prisoners every morning and evening and walk them to and from their camp. It seemed to know their language too 鈥� if tail wagging was the measure. When German troops were housed at the same camp, the Italians were moved on, as there was much ill feeling between these two factions. Maybe the wee dog had some sense, who knows?

I still have some photos and a telegram that my brother sent to my mother, April 1946 saying he was coming home 鈥� she wept again.

There are many memories and thoughts that will never die, so many that have left me with mixed emotions of war and its purpose and consequences.

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