大象传媒

Story Number 6

Arriving home from school one afternoon I was surprised to see we were already the recipiants of an Anderson garden shelter. The two navvy men who'd both dug-in and assembled the curved roof shed-like iron structure were now banking the spare earth against the sides and would soon be calling it a day.

Being a family of four children and a father away in the army made us a priority for these free handouts now that the War picture looked even more grim since the word Dunkirk had smitten the lips of England.
All considered, I was surprised the metal could be spared, for with all our military metal left behind in France and on the beaches, one could think every little scrap was needed for our war work factories. However, I'd soon use the added height as a grandstand if the expectations of German bomber visits proved correct, while my sister would soon adapt the inside as a dolls house.

With four wooden bunks also fitted, bedding would need to be adapted to form mattresses etc, while the old orange box from the garage came in for table use.

About mid August, the odd German aircraft began passing overhead during the dark hours, but they were only nuisance missions to the midlands by all accounts. These flew up from the south coast to overfly Bletchingley and our Chaldon as they steered westwards of the capital, for still hoping for a 'No War' deal with Britain, Hitler wouldn't allow the bombers to fly near London.

By the 12th and 13th of August air raids were getting into full stride along the south coast for Prime Minister Winston Churchill was having no truck with Hitler's peace overtures - so real WAR it had to be.

Although we lived within a mile or two, of important military targets - the Caterham Guards Barracks and Kenley aerodrome and the not very distant Croydon Airport - both of which were Hurricane fighter bases - and thus making our sky quite active as raiders came and went, our spread-out village dwellings were of no consequence to the German war planes, so therefore our Andy shelter never got used during those Battle of Britain months. Once the nightly 'blitz' got under way though it became another matter, for the raiding Heinkels coming from the south by the hundreds all flew over Chaldon as they made for London. Now with the night sky constantly being lit up by heavy shellfire, bomb flashes, the searchlights and flares - while being a brilliant fireworks display - much to we childrens delight! - did have many dangers for us down below. The blazing Heinkel that noisily overflew our shelter at midnight before crashing half a mile away onto a bungalow - what a fright it gave us!!! - and 'ditched' bombs from aircraft lost or in difficulty, now made the 'shanty' Anderson our thankful shield.

While we often stood and watched the spectacular evening and nightly display before sleep time - for we'd become quite daring in 'living' with the daily WAR - soon it would be time to install ourselves in the 'shanty Andy' bunks. We four children each had our personal bunk, while Mum - if not dozing fitfully on a hard kitchen chair - would squeeze herself alongside our youngest member down below me.
Of course the whole business - while being somewhat cosy in the steel box of seven by six foot dimensions, was quite smelly, for the floor earth smell combined with candle smoke and oldest bed clothes and bodies was a rare mixture. Then of course there was the pee bucket! - well kids do you know!! And who'd want to scramble out in bare feet to do it in the garden while still aslepp!?

Tiring of the candle light for reading, Bob adapted his morse code tackle with the torch batteries. He'd made the switching gadget himself, for joining the Navy was to be his ultimate aim. He knew all the Navy requirements from the books he was reading. Already 14 years old he would be starting work soon; then would be the man about the house.
Personally, I always liked the candles burning. Sometimes conditions called for two - like when reading the comics. Yes, they had a cosy charm of their own.

The candle stood on the orange box,stuck to a dish. We had to be careful with flames, obviously. Falling bedding or clothes could make an inferno, and any movements made the dancing flame flicker and cast reflections on the galvanized silver-colour of the curved roof just above my head. The least little movement in fact, stirred the air and caused the friendly flame to wobble like a belly-dancer before the eyes of desiring men.

It was fun watching the orange flame after sleep had finally silenced any last remarks or soft talk from Bob or my sister. Hopefully Roy wouldn't ruin the peace and tranquility that denoted a long break in Heinkel traffic bound for London, for he could snore like a bacon pig. Some nights the bombers flew over at four minute intervals, or less, but another night it was tweny minute breaks. Steady streams or at intervals, German bombers were on a mission to ruin London and bring Britain to the 'peace' table But it wouldn't happen; in fact it would have the reverse effect.

1940 had been quite a good year for sunny weather, luckily. This meant that the shanty had remained dry since the day of erection. In due course it would rain heavily, then possibly it could start making it less habitable. At least a wet floor would help me control the black beetles - drown 'em - for these unwelcome creatures claimed a share of the accommodation without asking me or the enemy. Hence almost every day I would turf these beasts out from under the old floor rug and orange box and, walk on them. But like the white butterflies making their caterpillars to eat into all my cabbages, they were never ending. I found myself wishing the Germans would come and help me sort out the problem; like machine-gunning them. They were certainly welcome to try, provided they didn't use gas.

The first 'Gas' threats so prevalent at the beginning of the war had faded away. We still carried our gas masks wherever we went but the prospects of making use of them seemed most improbable. This was a comforting thought in the confines of 'shanty Andy' and with Mum creeping back in after popping to the bungalow for a last cup of tea, our wooden bunks in close proximity soon had us within the claws of sleep.

Come what may, cocooned in our togetherness, the half buried 'shanty' Anderson would shield us through thick or thin, for better or worse, through sickness or health, or War do us part.

end

Much more on the subject of our Anderson shelter can be seen in my book Three Deadly Months - a day by day diary of the B of B as seen from our Surrey country home. This story also takes in the 'blitz' months of 1940 and the summer period of waiting for an airborne invasion of our local fields and denes. With local Canadian soldiers, we watch and wait, listen for the something different in the darkness, whether to sleep indoors or risk the shelter and a paratroopers bullets........

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