大象传媒

Shortly before he died in 1998, my Dad started to write down his life story - he was a great believer in 'passing things on' and I know he would have been delighted to share his memories via this project. The following is an extract from the chapter he called 'My War Years':

"In September 1939 the waiting was over and war was declared. For a while nothing changed and life carried on fairly normally, there were a few scares, but no fighting. Then on August 8th 1940 Dad decided he should 'do his bit' and without waiting to be called up he went and registered as a Voluntary Reserve in the RAF. Looking back, I can't help admire him, and Mum, for the decision they obviously both made. They had no idea what was going to happen, or even if they'd ever see each other again. It took a great deal of guts and I'm still proud of them today.

Dad eventually got called up on 21st August 1940. By this time I was just turned six and was at school. I was attending Downsell Road Infants, along with my mate Derek. Dad went off to the Middle East in February 1941.

So, there I was, just turned six, fatherless and probably wondering what was happening in my young life. Looking back now, I realise that the five years that Dad was away were important ones for both of us. We lost forever the years of togetherness that Father and Son normally share. The period from age five to ten are years when their relationship is built and established for the future. They can never be replaced, and although I loved my dad dearly, and I believe he felt the same about me, I always felt that there was something missing in our relationship. There were many things and experiences that we could and should have shared but didn't and I feel sure that dad felt the same way. We never really did talk about it and I wish now that we had.

Mum and I stayed in London for a while during the early days of the 'Blitz'. I can vaguely remember being in the shelter, hearing bombs and 'ack ack' banging away. One night, there was an extra loud bang when a bomb hit the house a few doors away. Fortunately, the family survived, but the house was a wreck. I can also recall seeing a massive bomb - I think it was called an Aerial Torpedo - sticking out of the High Road at the top of Victoria Road. It hadn't gone off, but it brought all the Trolley Bus wires down and made quite a mess.

It was about this time that my paternal Grandfather stepped into the act. Grandad wasn't a Londoner by birth, he originally came from Warwickshire, having been born near Stratford-on-Avon. He had a number of relatives living in and around the Stratford/Birmingham area, including a half brother, Bert, and his wife, Lil, who lived in a little village called Alderminster, 8 miles outside Stratford.

Anyway, Grandad decided that Mum and I should leave London and go to Alderminster to escape the bombs. I believe he was doing this at Dad's request, who probably had discussed it with Mum before he went abroad. I'm not sure whether Mum was fully convinced it was the right thing to do, but anyway, we went. Grandad came with us by train from Paddington to Leamington Spa, then on to Stratford and finally by bus to Alderminster. He stayed for a while then went back to London. I believe this all happened around the autumn of 1941, so that within one year, I had lost my Dad and been moved to a strange place with people I didn't know.

My Grandfather's half-brother Bert and his wife Lil were a childless couple in their late forties who lived a pretty basic life in this quiet country village. He worked for the County Council as a road maintenance man and she was a normal country housewife, involved in church and village activities. At first, the relationship Mum and I had with them wasn't too bad. Mum helped out in the house and garden as much as she was allowed, but it was obviously a strain for her being away from her family who were all still in London. I probably didn't help matters, I got up to lots of mischief and that only added to the friction that began to build up. I know Mum made a couple of attempts to go back to London but I assume that Dad's letters and Grandad persuaded her to try and stick it out. Anyway, by this time Grandad had put all our furniture etc into storage for the duration and our house had been let to someone else. So, we stayed.

As a result, I had to go to school and I recall being dragged along the road by Mum, kicking and screaming, on my way to my first day at the village school. The school was situated in the middle of the village and took pupils from all around the local area up to the age of 11 years. The teaching staff consisted of two ladies. The Headmistress, Mrs Randall, lived in the house built onto the school. I soon settled down and quickly made some good friends amongst the other pupils.

To get away from the atmosphere at Bert and Lil's and to earn some money, Mum had reverted back to her service experience and got a job helping out at the local vicarage. The Vicar and his wife took to Mum and obviously realised the stress she was under. They suggested that Mum and I should move into the vicarage. It was a genuine Christian act of helping out someone who was probably at the end of her tether. So, we moved in.

Moving to the vicarage was a tremendous change. It was a home, and even though Mum was their 'employee', we very soon became part of the family. At that stage the Vicar and his wife had no children, but I was accepted with all my mischievous ways.

The vicarage was a large building with five bedrooms, a dining room, a lounge, and a study, plus a kitchen, scullery and a sewing room. There were two bathrooms, lots of cupboards and an enormous loft, which extended across the whole house. It was set in its own grounds, with an orchard, fruit and vegetable garden, and a massive front lawn with flower beds round it. There were a number of out buildings, including stables, pig sties and greenhouses. To me, it was an adventure playground, which was there to be explored.

The Vicar had been a medical student but had changed career paths and gone into the church. He had a great sense of humour and liked his pint. He and Mum got on very well and I recall her being quite cheeky to him at times, but he seemed to enjoy it. Apart from his church work, which covered three other parishes as well as Alderminster, he used to drive around the countryside in a Ford Prefect, towing a trailer which held his equipment for showing films to the local troops. As I got older, I used to go with him sometimes, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. He'd be in the Officers' Mess after the show, drinking his pint, while I'd be drinking a glass of lemonade somewhere.

His wife was a lovely lady, tall and elegant, kind and with a pleasant nature. She and Mum seemed to hit it off very quickly and they shared many a laugh together, so in a way I believe they helped each other cope with the stresses of the war. She was also very involved in the Church, playing the organ at most services and generally organising Church life, including Sunday School.

Although there were no other children at the Vicarage, there was for me the attraction of two dogs and a cat. The dogs, Dasher and Peter, were cocker spaniels, with Dasher being The Vicar's gun dog. The cat was called Fluffy and she seemed to be continuously having kittens, which I used to play with.

Mum and I shared a bedroom and had our own small sitting room, which gave us that little bit of privacy, and we greatly appreciated it. In the meantime, I had settled in at school and made some good friends including several children from the village and local farms. There was another evacuee in the village called Keith, who came from Doncaster. We were all about the same age and so became great friends, doing most things together. Initially I was teased a bit for the way I pronounced certain words like 'duck' and 'bus', but I soon picked up the local dialect so that when I eventually went back to London at the end of the war, I was teased again.

Apart from the absence of Dad, my life in Alderminster was idyllic. It basically became school, play - often at Barton Farm - and church. The latter aspect began to have an increasing influence on my young life. I started going to Sunday School, then joined the choir and eventually became Head Altar Boy and Server which meant that I went to church about 7 or 8 times a week!

Mum and I often used to take trips on the bus into Stratford-on-Avon and it was there that we met Grandad's half-sister, Daisy. Aunt Daisy was as different from Bert and Lil as chalk and cheese. She was a spinster, tall and slim with a bubbly personality and a lovely sense of humour. She lived over a shoe shop, which she managed, in Wood Street. The building was very old, like lots of houses in Stratford, and her flat was full of oak beams and creaky floorboards. She always made Mum and me very welcome and used to make quite a fuss of me. Later in the war Aunt Daisy 'adopted' a crew of a Lancaster Bomber which flew from one of the local aerodromes just outside Stratford. They were all Canadians and she used to refer to them as her 'boys'. I can't recall all their names, but I do remember a 'Long Bob', 'Little Bob', Dusty, Smitty, and a 'Peewee'. As far as I know they all survived the war.

Mum had made a few friends, including Bill the village baker, and his wife, and Mum and I sometimes helped out in the bakery. I used to make the meat pies on a pie making machine. It was good fun! I got on well with Bill and he became another 'proxy' father. He was a keen fisherman and he often took me fishing with him.

Quite often during those war years there were visitors to the vicarage. The Vicar's in-laws sometimes came to stay. He was a retired Naval Captain who had been called back into active service and was based at Dover, working on shore. I believe he had been involved in the evacuation of British Troops from Dunkirk in 1940.

Mum and I also had visitors during these war years. The Vicar's wife kindly let Mum invite her sisters down for a break, so my Aunts and Cousins came to visit. They all stayed at the vicarage and it was nice having their company, especially for Mum as she was obviously worried about them living in London during the bombing. We were lucky to be out of it, but at the time I didn't realise how lucky. The nearest we ever came to such danger in Alderminster was the night the Germans bombed Coventry. I can clearly remember standing at the bedroom window with Mum and seeing a big red glow in the sky and hearing the thud of explosions. We didn't know where it was at the time until The Vicar told us next morning that Coventry had been hit. The fires raged for quite a while and for a few nights you could still see the reflection in the night sky.

Looking back on those war years in Alderminster, I realise how lucky I was. Apart from missing Dad, I was completely protected from what was going on in the world. I saw it in the newspapers and heard the news on the radio, but it didn't seem real at the time, it was happening in another world. My world was the village and it was one big playground. I had a great circle of friends and we used to roam around the village getting up to mischief and having fun. We'd go paddling and 'skinny dipping' in the River Stour, which ran through the village. There was a cave in the river bank at the back of the church yard, which became our den. We used to help on the local farm; feeding the new lambs, helping to stack the sheaves of wheat, and I can clearly remember during the long summer evenings of double summer time, taking the supper down to the men working in the fields. They were wonderful days!

I appeared in one of the village pageants, which were organised to raise money for the war effort. I remember I was a Cavalier and a girl called Joyce was my Lady and we had to dance on the lawn of the Lodge, a big house in the village, to some appropriate music, which I believe was 'Greensleeves'. There were other occasions when I 'trod the boards', one of which still brings back painful memories. In May 1943 when I played Yankee Doodle Dandy all dressed up in a white silk suit - made from a parachute I believe. Unfortunately, as I jumped up onto the stage I knocked my shin, so there I stood, in considerable pain, blood flowing down my leg, trying to sing. I've still got the scar today to prove it.

Mum and I were getting fairly regular letters from Dad who by the middle 1940's was in India. He had gone with his Squadron to fight the Japanese in Burma, but had been transferred to Signals Head Quarters in Delhi. It turned out to be a good move as I believe his Squadron - 45th - was wiped out in Burma a few months later. I'm sure Mum was relieved that Dad was at least away from the Front Line action. She had enough on her plate raising me and she had to try and play two roles with no support from a husband. I shall always be grateful to her for that stage in my life and regret that I never found the time to tell her.

At the start of 1943, unbeknown to me, Mum had heard that Dad was on his way home. I woke up one morning to find I was alone in our room. I assumed that Mum must have got up early and gone downstairs, so I got up as well. I couldn't find her and began to get a bit worried, then I remembered seeing one of the spare bedroom doors was shut. I couldn't think why she should be in there but I decided to investigate. I remember opening the door and there was Mum in bed with a man who I immediately recognised as dad. I think I leapt about six foot from the door to the bed and landed on top of them. It was a marvellous moment and one I shall never forget.

The next few days were great, getting to know Dad, unpacking his gifts, looking at photographs and generally being happy to be with him. I was very proud of him in his uniform, he was a Flight Sergeant now. I think we spent some of his leave visiting relatives in London because when we came back to Alderminster he was taken ill with Malaria. He was taken to hospital in Stratford-on-Avon at first, but was later transferred to a special hospital in Liverpool. This created another problem for Mum as she obviously wanted to be near Dad. Fortunately Dad's brother came to the rescue. He and my Aunt were living in Swinton just outside Manchester and Mum could get to Liverpool from there. So she and I travelled by train from Birmingham to Manchester, then by bus to Swinton. I remember it was pitch dark, we'd no idea where we were. We stayed about six weeks and Mum visited Dad most days. I had to go to school in Swinton and it was tough, pupils and teachers alike. I was about 9 or 10, came from a quiet country school with two female teachers to one where the teachers all carried canes and used them regularly. It also wasn't unusual to get beaten up by your class mates. I was more than pleased when we left Swinton and took Dad back to Alderminster for convalescence leave.

He settled well into village life. He got on with The Vicar and used to go with him on his trips to the Army and RAF camps in the area. I went sometimes and used to sit in the car with my glass of cider and crisps while they got a bit drunk.

Dad also used to help out in the bakery and made use of his skills as a barber doing haircuts for the villagers. Eventually his sick leave was over and he was posted to a new Squadron based in the Shetland Isles. Not as far away as India but just as inaccessible, however we thought he was safer.

Life returned to normal in the village. I sat the 11 plus and surprisingly passed. Mum was pleased as it meant I could go to the grammar school.

The war finally came to and end in mid-1945 and Dad was demobbed early. He came back to Alderminster on leave during which time he and mum considered the possibility of staying in Alderminster. He was offered the chance of a job in Stratford and I would have gone to K.E.G.S. (The King Edward Grammar School) in Stratford where most of my male contemporaries went. In the end they decided to go back to London and Dad returned to the Barber Shop in Angel Lane, Stratford.

So, somewhere around August/September 1945 we finally left Alderminster. It was a sad occasion for everyone. We had made some good friends, had five very happy years there and had been protected from the horrors of war. As far as I was concerned it was home and I viewed the prospect of returning to London with some concern. I was going to a new school where I knew no one, I had no friends apart from cousins and the thought of returning to a big city was very daunting."

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