- Contributed by听
- Bramley History Society
- People in story:听
- Brian Horsfall
- Location of story:听
- Aldershot, Hampshire and Shipley, Yorkshire
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A4542932
- Contributed on:听
- 25 July 2005
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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Bramley History Society and has been added to the website on behalf of Brian Horsfall with his permission and he fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.
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I was born in April, 1938 in Aldershot Hospital. My father was killed in the preparations for war, in June or July 1939. He was a Sgt. Major in the 4th Hussars. He was in the conning tower of a tank that jerked suddenly and he hit the back of his head. He was taken to hospital but died. Years later I was told that actually the tank had backed up on him.
My mother and my older sister and I moved in with grandparents in Badshot Lea. My grandmother was descended from the Hugenots - her name had been Perison and my grandfather was called Walter Kimber. We moved away and back a lot. I don鈥檛 remember ever going short of food. My mother worked at Crosby Doors in Farnham. She used to come home sometimes with the lyrics of pop songs written on pieces of wood from work 鈥 鈥淥ver the Rainbow鈥 was one of them.
A bomb was dropped on Eggars Hill in Aldershot, but luckily no-one was hurt. There was only one Anderson shelter and one metal table type in the whole of Badshot Lea.
I saw lots of shop windows being smashed in Aldershot by some Canadian soldiers who wanted to get home and who felt they weren鈥檛 being repatriated fast enough. I do remember that the houses were freezing cold 鈥 Granny used to heat up a sort of white housebrick in her oldfashioned stove and keep her pet tortoise in the gap underneath. There was sometimes frost on the inside of the windows. Granny loved the films and if she missed the last bus back, would have to walk back with just a tiny torch.
Twice during the war, we holidayed in Shipley in Yorkshire. I used to go up to Shipley by train in the care of the guard 鈥 a long way for a young boy. One time we were there I remember seeing every street being lined with lorries and Polish and Belgian troops, possibly in preparation for D-Day. There was a sign up in a local fish and chip shop 鈥 鈥淲hiskey for Belgian soldiers鈥.
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