大象传媒

War Time Family Experiences

The New Year was but a few weeks old when I heard Dad rummaging about in the new outside toilet and tool store. Mum had just finished putting my wellies on. 鈥淵ou鈥檒l have to be having some new ones; I could hardly get those on you. Go on then and help your Dad.鈥� 鈥淲hat鈥檚 he going to do?鈥� 鈥淥h he鈥檒l tell you, go on, off you go.鈥�
The store door is slightly a-jar and I can see Dad filling his pipe with his spade leaning against him. His lips are moving but I can鈥檛 make out what he鈥檚 saying. Then I remember Mum saying that when he did this he was mumbling to himself. 鈥淐an I come in Dad?鈥� 鈥淚, you can, but I鈥檒l have to get started or there be hell to play.鈥� 鈥淐an I get my spade Dad?鈥� 鈥淵es but don鈥檛 be getting in my way there鈥檚 a good boy.鈥� 鈥淲hat are we going to do Dad?鈥� 鈥淥h you鈥檒l see.鈥� He marches out and stands on top of the shelter he鈥檚 made for us.
I don鈥檛 understand this; he鈥檚 digging the soil away and throwing it on the grass. 鈥淲hat鈥檚 wrong Dad.鈥� 鈥淣ow鈥檛, oh I鈥檓 digging the ruddy shed out, seems it鈥檚 not good enough.鈥� I鈥檓 sure Dad was feeling rather humiliated at the failure of not providing a safe refuge for his wife and brood during the air raids. Very soon the shed was pulled to bits and lay on the grass. Then Dad put all the soil back in the hole and I went to call for Harry.
When I got back home I was surprised to find the shed had been put in the bottom left hand corner of the garden and Dad was digging holes again, two rows of them, 鈥淲hat are you doing Dad? 鈥淵ou鈥檒l see soon enough.鈥� Some minutes later he said, 鈥淕o and get your wellies off and your shoes on, you can come to Manchester with me?鈥� We went on the electric train and got off at Old Trafford. Crossing a main road at Trafford Bar we entered an Aladdin鈥檚 cave; this was a specialist ironmonger鈥檚 shop, a cornucopia for just about any and everything that a man would need to do any job under the Sun. Dad said, 鈥淗andy shop this, right across from the railway station.鈥�
Dad disappeared with an assistant into the back and some minutes later came out helping to carry a big roll of wire netting; he also bought a small sack of large staples, some nails and a hoop of thick wire. 鈥淣ow, all we鈥檝e got to do is get this lot home and we can finish the job,鈥� 鈥淲hat are we making Dad?鈥� 鈥淵ou鈥檒l see.鈥�
When we eventually arrived home, we were struggling past the back door when Mum shouts; 鈥淭hose posts have arrived George,鈥� 鈥淧ut the kettle on Nellie I鈥檓 right parched with this lot.鈥�
鈥淲hat鈥檚 it for Dad鈥�? I chanced asking. 鈥淵our mother thinks the shed will serve more purpose if we get some hens, they鈥檒l help us through this War.
Dad was demobbed on the 20th of December 1945, just in time for our first Christmas after the war. To celebrate his safe homecoming we had a family feast and get together. Uncle Geoffrey was home on leave; he acquired a duck from somewhere down London way which was a welcome addition to the two chickens Mum had supplied. It must have been difficult job for Mum to roast them all, along with the roasted spuds. The table looked fit for a king and nine sat around the table as Granddad and Grandma Scott and Auntie Dorothy came, then there was Auntie Babs, who was still living with us anyway?
Towards the end of 1946 Mum and Dad came to the conclusion that it was time to get rid of the two-legged livestock, Dad dismantled the pen and the shed was put back in its original position.
The packaging of cigarettes had to be cut to the minimum during the war; there were no more cardboard packets, they reverted to printed-paper packets with no closed tops either on the smaller brands like Woodbines, Player鈥檚 Weights and Park Drive. Joining these towards the end of the war was a Turkish brand called 鈥楶asha鈥�, it was rumoured amongst the younger element that these were made from camel dung, well they certainly smelt like it, and another cheap brand called 鈥楾urf鈥� hit the shelves. The larger cigarettes, that we could never afford; were Players Navy Cut, Craven 鈥楢鈥�, Senior Service, Gold Leaf, Piccadilly and Four Square and quite a few more. Stuck on the side of a packet of 20 Four Square was a small gift pack of four cigarettes, the printing read 鈥淔our for a friend?鈥�
The variety was greatly increased when the American Forces (The Yanks) as they were called, started throwing them around as gifts. Amongst the many odd sounding brand names were Lucky Strike 鈥� Camel 鈥� Marlboro鈥� and Pall Mall. The way the Yank鈥檚 opened their packs was unique, by tearing about a half inch square off the top right hand corner they revealed four cigarettes. When the packet was tapped on the other hand a cigarette jumped up about an inch, this would then be placed between the lips whilst the packet was lowered, leaving the cigarette ready for lighting. We gang members thought this was very swish but when we tried it with our packs; too many fell on the ground so we gave up this 鈥榣ooking swish lark鈥�.
All through her life Auntie Babs smoked DuMurier; the pack design was never changed, it was a light red coloured flat box with a flip lid. During the war of course she couldn鈥檛 always obtain them, so she smoked anything she could get hold of including Craven A, and Black Cat, the ones she frowned on previously. Once she purchased a miniature pipe and saved her fag ends that she stood up in it to get every last puff out of it.
Unfortunately my childhood smoking pranks were not the end of my smoking experience, with me it was a progression from the one or two a week at this early age, to thirty-five a day for most of my adult life. I鈥檇 tried to stop on numerous occasions, but following a suspected heart attack in April 1993 when I spent three days in coronary care I stopped on my discharge at 3.45pm 27th April. From a health point of view I can tell you it was not worth it. I am now suffering health wise; after my quad by-pass operation the surgeon told my wife Glenys that I had Emphysema, she passed this news on to me three or four weeks into my convalescence, and was confirmed after various tests had been carried out. A couple of months later my left foot progressively got colder, I had three blockages in the main artery of my left leg. Back into hospital to have this sorted, I suppose I was lucky not to have lost the leg. However, the operations were huge successes which is a blessing, but unfortunately I shall never feel the full benefit due to my breathing been affected.
I was very upset when I recently found out that my old pal Harry died of lung cancer on 26th May 1985, just a month after his 51st birthday. Bless you Harry, and thank you for the times we shared together, now fond memories I have to remind me of you. His sister Winnie also died of the same complaint, and she was only in her early forties.
During the winter our kitchen and dinning room, well it had now become known as the living room, were used to their full potential, the front room hardly ever. Mum had to have the kitchen fire going to heat the water, as well as being the central room in the house she鈥檇 have to make full use of the oven for cooking and baking, I shall never forget the lovely smell when Mum made bread. Through out the summer I noticed piles of slack (coal dust) separate from the coal in the shed; it was for banking up the fire at night to try to keep it going for the morning.
Whenever there was a shortage of anything some were very quick spotting an opening and making money out of it; coal rationing was seen to be such an opportunity and it didn鈥檛 take long to fill this gap in the fuel market. Before long we had men, or women, coming round selling logs, and peat blocks; within a few years would you believe it, old tyres? The tyres had been cut up into small pieces, about six inch by three inch, they burnt quite well, but made an awful stink if the smoke happened to blowback into the room due to windy conditions. The other fuel used to 'eak' out the coal ration later on was coke; this was a bye product of making gas. It was lightweight and gave a 鈥榬ustley crinkly鈥� sound, the time to add coke was when the fire was very hot to get it going, then it would give out a very good heat.
Saving money was a priority, so whenever the chimney started to smoke due to a heavy coating of soot, it was common practice to save money by not having a sweep; but to do it your-self. This was achieved by pushing crumpled up newspaper into the chimney. When it was set on fire it would be drawn up the chimney with a 鈥榳hoosh鈥� and this burnt the soot off. Another way was to go and buy a product called 鈥業MP鈥�. This was a three inches square small box containing chemicals. When it was placed on a glowing fire the chemicals burnt the soot away from the chimney walls. It was a great deal safer as well.
The Christmas of 1940 was a bit worrying being straight after the blitz. Mum certainly didn鈥檛 want to have to leave our dinner on the table, neither did we? I remember her saying to Dad and the rest of us. 鈥淭hat lot may be dropping bombs on us but I鈥檒l be dammed if he鈥檚 going to spoil our Christmas,鈥� as she started to dish the spuds out. 鈥淐ome on George get that bird carved up, if we end up covered in dust he鈥檚 not getting me in no shelter for the next hour.鈥� Fortunately he left us alone, until New Years Day 1941 when they came back and started bombing all over again.
My big sister Muriel introduces her latest boy friend and some months later they got married.
Later Rod and I got to know each other, he had come over to England to study Constructional Engineering and re-enforced concrete technology at Manchester University. When the war started he joined the RAF to serve King and Country. He鈥檇 been a Warrant Officer 鈥� Navigator, Flying in Mosquitoes with a pathfinder squadron. He told of many hair-raising exploits over Germany, quite often he and the pilot had to change their trousers when they got back to base.
He felt honoured to be part of the Battle of Britain Victory parade in London. Having been marching for what seemed like hours all had drooping heads they were so tired. All that changed when the wail of a Scottish Pipe Band struck up as they approached the big wigs taking the salute. This sound revitalised all the men and women around him, brightening and smartening them all up, it was marvellous. He said the experience of that momentous occasion would live with him till the day he died.
From 鈥楾IMPERLEY BOY鈥� by Peter Scott - Published by Churnet Valley Books Leek Staffordshire

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