大象传媒

Me and the War in Banstead (Part One)

This story was submitted to the People's War site at Banstead History Centre on behalf of Mr Geoffrey Robinson. It has been added to the site with the author's permission, and he fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

When you have lived in the same house for over 70 years, as I have, the various years tend to get a bit blurred. But the war years 1939-1945 were different and some events made a lasting impression, although my experiences were much less traumatic than those of many others.

The day war broke out in September 1939 was one of them. We had been on holiday in August until my father received a telegram recalling him a week early because of the threat of war. Thus the previous day had found me accompanying my mother on a trip to Woolworths in Banstead Village to buy up a supply of tinned foods before the expected introduction of food rationing, which came soon afterwards.

The outbreak of war was not a total surprise as there had been crises in the previous year. Earlier in the year a refugee Sudeten German had arrived to teach at my school and a refugee Austrian and his daughter become near neighbours. Test black-outs had taken place and the creation of a 24 hour a day air raid precaution system in Banstead. Once war started an Air Raid Precautions Report Centre came into operation manned entirely by volunteers working four 8 hour shifts. A network of 51 wardens' posts had been set up throughout the district, open day and night, together with First Aid Posts.

Banstead was designated a "neutral" area for the evacuation of children, that is, it was not an area from which they were evacuated nor an area that received evacuees. A new school off Roundwood Way, the Junior Mixed and Infants' School, had only just been built and its opening for the first time in September 1939 was delayed until shelters had been built for the children. The only public air raid shelter at that time was one in the Lady Neville Recreation Ground with 125 seats but others were to follow, notably one at the bottom of Warren Road and seven on the Downs near the railway station, each with 50 seats. Air raid sirens had been installed at the police station, the Drift Bridge junction and elsewhere.

The lack of shelters did not seem to bother people much. Anderson shelters of corrugated steel and designed for erection in back gardens were made available for 拢7 or free of charge for those of low incomes, but when the local ARP in Banstead held an evening demonstration of how to erect them, only 29 people turned up the first time and only 15 when it was repeated.

Earlier in the year everyone had been issued with an identity card to be carried at all times and shown to anyone in authority who demanded it. Similarly we had gone to a house in Nork Way designated as a wardens' post and collected our gas masks, to be carried at all times if war broke out. These were for civilians, different from those given to ARP workers and servicemen and they were modified later by the addition of an extra protective layer. Their cardboard containers were usually soon replaced by stronger metal carriers, but people gradually stopped carrying them. Respirators for babies were also issued but as there was a shortage in Banstead parents were advised to lay a damp cloth lightly across the child's face and wrap the child securely in a blanket. Fortunately they never needed to be used.

Wooden warning posts were put up by the roadside at various places with a chemical coating which, it was said, would change colour in the event of a gas attack. Rubber earplugs were issued to everyone to protect their hearing from the noise of bombs and anti-aircraft fire. I never used mine, nor did anyone else that I knew of.

There were initially eight wardens' posts in Nork, usually in private houses, with a warden in each and a District Warden in overall charge. By the time the war started there was a total of 50 paid wardens, 41 men and 9 women, in Banstead as a whole and seven other District Wardens. The wardens' posts were manned day and night.

There were also 9 auxiliary fire stations in the District, manned 24 hours a day by 84 paid AFS personnel. In addition the organisation included ambulance drivers, rescue and stretcher parties, demolition and repair parties, decontamination squads etc. All wore uniforms with special tunics to show which section they were in and all were directed from the Council House in the Brighton road. There was a gas-proof chamber there and the windows of some key rooms were protected by sandbags piled outside to limit damage by bomb blast.

September 3rd 1939 was a Sunday and the radio had warned us to expect an important announcement later that morning. At 11 o'clock it came, in the sad tones of the Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain announcing that a state of war existed between us and Germany.

My sister, aged 14, and I, two years younger, were scared yet excited. We had heard about bombing aeroplanes and that "the bomber will always get through". We went outside, looking up at the sky in the direction of Germany and watching for the first sign or sound of German bombers. Sure enough, the air raid warning sounded, itself a sound to strike a sense of foreboding in those who heard its doleful wail. We got out our gas masks, issued earlier that year. What should we do? We had no air raid shelter. Should we duck under the dining room table or look out and take cover only when the bombers were overhead? Fortunately it was a false alarm and we were able to return to other things.

These included preparing for the "black-out". Because my father had become ill and did not think there would be a war anyway, the black-out in our house was less than perfect. To start with only the living room and kitchen had light-proof curtains and with black-out materials quickly becoming almost unobtainable the rest of the house had to make do with heavy brown paper pinned to the woodwork of the windows after dark, combined with lower powered light bulbs.

Showing any sort of light now became illegal. Our methods were satisfactory for a while but tiresome and made activities such as reading difficult after dark. As the radio programmes were dire and homework still had to be done, evenings were not much fun.

My father, a Civil Servant, was told to report to the nearest Government office, the Ministry of Labour Employment Exchange in Sutton. As he was then confined to a wheelchair, this presented difficulties unless, as usually happened, a colleague gave him a lift by car. Soon afterwards he was retired on health grounds at the age of 42 and died two years later.

To avoid the shortages of foods that had occurred in the Great War and to make distribution fairer, everyone was allocated a weekly food ration and from January 1940 required to register with a particular retailer. This was of course long before the days of the supermarket. As the war went on, queues would sometimes form at shops when word got round that certain goods had arrived.

Housewives were encouraged to be ingenious in the use of easily available food as a substitute for the genuine article. Rations could be augmented by restaurant meals, limited by law to a maximum cost. Cafeteria-type meals were then new to this country and not to be found in Banstead until a "British Restaurant" serving cheap meals operated by the local council came into operation in Banstead High Street later on.

Meat was also rationed by price, not quantity, but offal was unrationed. Gradually more and more goods were included in the rationing system, the only food not rationed being bread and cake, fruit, vegetables and fish, although supplies of these were often restricted. In the case of fruit and vegetables supply depended on the time of year and the bread and cake was decidedly of wartime quality. Non-essential imported foodstuffs such as bananas disappeared from the shelves while oranges and other citrus fruits were few and far between. However although very much a growing lad I don't remember ever being hungry. Perhaps my mother gave me some of her share of the rations. Extra food coupons could be applied for at the local food office for special occasions.

The war effort was all-important and in 1941 clothes rationing was introduced with everyone receiving coupons to last a year. Later on "Utility" clothing made its appearance marked with a distinctive label to show that it met Government economy requirements, for example trouser turn-ups and pleats in skirts were no longer allowed. The recycling or sale of old clothes was encouraged, indeed unavoidable and an illegal "black market" in clothes coupons grew up. A fast growing schoolboy, I was pleased to be no longer required to wear the school uniform.

Deliveries of groceries, meat and bread and drink from the off-licence, either by a delivery boy on a bicycle or by van, formerly a feature of local life, were reduced or stopped. Milk was rationed and delivery rounds by horse and cart or electric float simplified by an agreed reduction in the number of suppliers serving each road.

Throwing away edible food such as crusts of bread was made illegal and as most people did not have refrigerators the food situation meant frequent trips to the local shops. Everyone was exhorted to "dig for victory" by growing vegetables rather than flowers and to collect in special containers swill for feeding to pigs, the keeping of which was also encouraged.

Our registered egg retailer was a private resident in Nork Way who kept chickens in land adjoining the end of his garden and ours. In response to official encouragement we later started to keep chickens ourselves, for which we were allowed a ration of corn collected from a shop at Burgh Heath. Other people kept rabbits for food.

Farmers were encouraged to plough up grazing and other land and paid by the Government to do so. As Nork Way at that time finished at its junction with Beacon Way and there were no houses between Nork Park and the back gardens of Reigate Road, this whole area was ploughed up and sown with barley and other cereals. The same later applied to a large area of common land on Banstead Downs between the railway line and Sutton Lane.

Sweets and chocolate became scarce and gradually disappeared from automatic vending machines and in 1942 became rationed for children and adults alike. Likewise cigarette machines could not keep up with shortages and price increases. Cigarette cards and silver paper wrappings disappeared from cigarette packets. Cigars vanished from tobacconists' shelves and new brands of cigarettes appeared, of poorer quality, made from Empire tobacco instead of the familiar Virginia. Nearly all men smoked cigarettes or a pipe, and the no smoking restrictions in trains and buses were removed as impossible to enforce.

Goods not rationed often became hard to get or available only "under the counter" to regular customers. "Don't you know there's a war on?" was a popular question by the retailer. Newsprint and other paper was in short supply, with newspapers and magazines much reduced in size and strenuous efforts being made to salvage paper and board.

Under the Government's emergency powers legislation the authorities had very considerable powers to take over private property or to direct civilians to do things. Some excitement was caused by the arrival of Canadian soldiers in Nork Park, which had been requisitioned early on. Most of the old house was demolished before the war but some parts remained, including stables and garages. These, like two nearby lodges and the former Colman riding school building on the present day Asda site were converted for military occupation. The former magistrates court in one wing of the old house became their headquarters. Elsewhere in the Park corrugated Nissen huts were erected to take the bulk of the men.

Barbed wire marked the boundaries of the Park but did not prevent friendships developing between some of the soldiers and local girls attracted by the transatlantic accent and refreshingly different ways of the newcomers. The Canadians stayed, chafing at inactivity, until the disastrous raid on Dieppe in 1942 in which they took a major part and after which they did not return. I still have an autograph album of my sister in which she had the names and home addresses of soldiers chatted to over the fence. I wonder whether they survived the war.

After the departure of the Canadians the Park was empty for a while and preparations were made for it to become a prisoner of war camp. This came to nothing but it was used by Army and Air Force cadets to improve their particular skills. The local roads resounded with the sound of their bugles and marching boots.

All news was strictly censored to prevent useful information getting to the enemy. Thus the location of any incident such as a bomb was often reported as happening somewhere "in the south of England". The extent of any damage and the number and nature of any casualties was usually kept secret.

This resulted in extraordinary rumours circulating, many of them originating in what was said, or said to have been said, by Nazi sympathisers, notably "Lord Haw Haw" an American-born Irishman, hanged after the war, who broadcast to England nightly from Germany. Listening to these broadcasts was discouraged but wisely not made illegal.

Photography of any scene of potential use to the enemy was strictly forbidden and films for cameras became hard to get. Military censorship also applied to the radio, which consisted of only the two 大象传媒 programmes, the Home Service and the Forces programme, both of which were reduced in power at a time of air raids to avoid helping enemy aircraft. Nothing in a foreign language was allowed. Television programmes had ceased at the beginning of the war.

Nevertheless listening in the living room to the regular news bulletins in the reassuring familiar dulcet tones of the 大象传媒 male announcers became the accepted pattern in many households. Portable transistor radios had not yet been invented. Cinema "newsreels" and films, like newspapers and magazines, also had to pass the military censor's office before release. The news was generally truthful although it could hardly be expected to be impartial. Maps of war zones also became popular to show the course of the fighting in obscure parts of the world.

The nightly black-out made life difficult. The few street lights and road beacons in Banstead were extinguished "for the duration of hostilities" and the headlights of motor and other vehicles were greatly obscured, as were traffic lights. Although white paint was liberally applied to kerbstones, street trees etc travel at night, whether by motor or on foot, was hazardous. Motor transport for civilians was by bus, as few people had cars and petrol was strictly rationed to essential users, such as doctors. Travelling to unknown places after dark was therefore difficult.

As we did not have a car the garage was empty and we willingly took up a neighbour's request in 1940 to store there temporarily the furniture of a friend, bombed out in London. A fair number of houses and shops locally became vacant as the war went on and some were requisitioned to provide accommodation for local people and shopkeepers bombed out.

Like most boys I had a bicycle which was much used. For example on hearing that one of a chain of barrage balloons was moored at Hook I went with others to see this curious but very useful device against low flying aircraft. Cycling after dark was however difficult as on dark nights it was almost impossible to see where you were going. Moonlight and the extent of the cloud became very important. Weather forecasts had ceased at the start of the war to avoid giving help to enemy aircraft. Everyone used torches but powerful ones were not allowed and batteries were hard to get.

This was the "phoney war" period. Apart from the nightly black-out, the effect of being at war was for me mainly the impact of food rationing, coupled with the shortage of goods not rationed. This shortage inevitably meant that prices went up despite an increasing number of new laws to control this, such as those governing the rent of housing.

Geoffrey Robinson
December 2005

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