大象传媒

This story has been added to the People's war website by Marie on behalf of Doris with her permission. Doris fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

Sunday September 3rd 1939 is clear in my mind as we were moving house. Not very far, in fact from 2 Court Cottages at the bottom of the hill, to the Lodge, Chilworth Court at the top. It is still there 鈥� a few hundred yards on the Southampton side of the Clump Inn at Chilworth. I was 13 and carrying a few items up to the Lodge walking through the beautiful gardens of Chilworth Court. On reaching the Lodge I found my parents listening to the speech announcing that we were at war with Germany. Obviously they were upset, having been through the 14-18 war, and now to start again was horrifying. We had been asked by the owners of the Court to move to the Lodge as the previous owner had recently died and it was up for sale. My parents were expected to show prospective buyers around but with the war starting, this did not materialise.

So living at Chilworth and attending school at what is now Barton Peveril I travelled by bus into Southampton and transferred to another one, as did several pupils from other areas. It was unwritten school law that we always, whatever the weather, went on the top of an open topper. This was because we passed under Swaythling Arch, a low bridge, and the conductor always came up and said 鈥渕ind your heads please鈥� before we passed under it. Also we were told at school that if, after we had left to catch the bus home, an air raid siren should sound we were to go down the nearest shelter.

One afternoon, having just reached the bus stop in Southampton Road the siren did sound. Well we didn鈥檛 know where the nearest shelter might be, and the bus was due, so we climbed on board. All was well until we reached Eastleigh Airport and a flight of bombers came roaring across the sky, swooping low over the airfield and bombing it. I shall never forget the noise, confusion, smoke, people running and screaming, the bus rocked with the blast and the driver put his foot down and drove fast to Portswood where we were all sent down a shelter for a long time. When the roads were at last clear and we eventually got home, my parents were much relieved but they decided it wasn鈥檛 a good idea to continue travelling by bus so I started cycling to Eastleigh through Castle Lane and Leigh Road.

All was well for some time, but one evening after school having just crossed over from Leigh Road and got down to the fields along Castle Lane, my friend and I were horrified to see some German fighter planes (Messerschmitt) come screaming towards us over the fields, they began to spray the area with machine gun bullets, open countryside and two schoolgirls being their only targets. We fell off our cycles and lay in the ditch for a while and then proceeded on our way shaken but unharmed. Such was the stuff of school life, we had a barrage balloon in the playing fields, trips over the road to the shelters when lessons were interrupted by sirens, and the boys especially tried to stay out and watch the dog fights, every one of them wanting to be a Spitfire pilot.

Life went on, School Certificate approached, interrupted at times by such activities. People walked out from Southampton at night to sleep in the woods or try to beg a room 鈥� it was less hectic than town but still noisy enough. One Friday night I returned from school, English grammar in hand as I was due to take that for School Certificate on the Monday, only to be told that a land mine had dropped the previous night and was suspended, unexploded, in a tree in the nearby woods. Therefore all local people must evacuate the area until it was made safe. Therefore myself, father, mother and neighbours across the road who had a small car and a drop of petrol left went on a mile to Baddersley School where we slept the night on the floor of the staff room. There was a carpet so it was slightly softer than bare boards. There were others I think but I can鈥檛 really remember. Next day, still not allowed home, we sought refuge with some distant relatives in the Shirley area of Southampton. They kindly made room for us, but that night I was not happy sleeping in the middle of a double bed between my mother and the rather plump lady who was our neighbour. Next day, the dog bit my mother on the leg and we still weren鈥檛 allowed home, so another night was passed similarly. Thus I set off on the bus Monday morning to take my exam, same clothes, really unprepared 鈥� not the best of conditions for sitting the equivalent of O Levels. But at least that night we were allowed home again. What a relief! I always felt deeply for all those people who came out of their shelters in the morning after a raid to find their home in ruins. Well, I only got a pass in that exam so I resat it next term to get the full credits needed to give me enough for Matriculation.

So war time life continued, the Court was filled with black American troops who were very quiet and well behaved, and under the leadership of two white officers 鈥� George and Bill 鈥� who visited our home at times. They were all later replaced by A.T.S. The woods all around the area were filled with soldiers under canvas, jeeps and tanks rumbled along the road.

By 1943 I had left school and was working in Lloyds Bank below Bar and cycling there, avoiding the tramlines, and running the gauntlet of the lorries full of troops, and especially American jeeps who liked to see how close they could pass without knocking me off my cycle.

At work as a machinist, forerunner of the computer, we girls were underground with our precious machines for safety 鈥� not pleasant working conditions. At lunch time we might wander down the bombed High Street, some buildings surviving, especially the old Post Office, amidst the piles of rubble and half buildings with a wall and open floor leaning over. Many a piece of furniture could still be seen, popular shops had disappeared and set up again wherever they could. There were more and more troops and along by the Pier the water was packed eventually with TCVs and landing crafts. At the bank we worked until we balanced at night, even if this meant staying later than usual and then cycling home in the black out which was grim. My journey meant that I sped downhill 4-5 miles in the morning, but the way home was an uphill slog. I remember going to the cinema with my girlfriend one evening (The Forum) and during the film the sirens went and big bangs were heard 鈥� the notice flashed up on the screen that patrons could leave if they wished but the film would continue. We stayed, and another time we saw Emlyn Williams in the Night has Eyes 鈥� I hadn鈥檛 cycled that night intending to go home by bus but ended up having to walk the last mile or so to Chilworth as a very frightened teenager seeing eyes everywhere, no people, no traffic, no lights, just sounds and imaginary terrors.

Time went by, the build up to D-Day and one night the troops rolled out of the Court all night long. I watched from my bedroom window. When I cycled that morning, the Common was empty, at lunch time there were no craft on the water. It was all happening 鈥� the world knows of the battles, Arnhem, the Second Front and eventually VE Day 鈥� I spent a few thankful minutes that day in my lunchtime in St Michael鈥檚 Church, thankful that our war was over.

The best thing to affect me personally was the return of Light 鈥� windows could be uncurtained and pour out light, street lights were on, car headlights were more than blue slits, bonfires blazed and lit up the skies in celebration, and eventually the fighting forces came home.

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