大象传媒

My dad was in the army so most of what happened during this period was with my mother,then under 30 years old, my elder sister Nean aged 7, then me 5years old and my baby brother who was just 12 months old.

The story happened at the height of the London Blitz. Our home was in a small street in Canning Town called Elphic Street very close to the London Docks and East London Industry. It was clearly not the place to beduring this time.

We had an Anderson shelter, a corrigated structure half buried in the garden which was cold, damp and very pokey. I will always remember the smell of this shelter, something like a wet sack. My mum used to take us to a school at the bottom of our street, only about 25 yards away, to spend the nights in the basement where it would be used by many local people. Mum thought we would be safe there.

My mum's niece(who was more like a sister to her. Mum was the youngest of 20 children) takled her into coming with her to an Underground Station,"its more cheery down there and there will be music" So off we trundled, Peter in the pram, me sitting facing backwards, Nean holding on and walking alongside and mum pushing.

We arrived at the Station, went down to the platform and found somewhere to lay on the blankets we had brought with us. I found it difficult to sleep with all the noise going on around us and the lights in our faces, but there was an accordian playing and people singing. Being only 5 years old I cant remember much more.

The next morning we made our way back home. The horror my mum witnessed echoed through to us children. My mum pushed the pram through all the destruction until we reached our Street The Street was cordoned with Policemen and Wardens stopping people from going further. all we could see were chimneys and rubble. Mum went to a policeman and asked him if she could go to our home, she had some money there. He escorted her but I dont think she found any of the money she was looking for. There was the families most treasured possession, a piano in a very sorry state.

By now there were a lot of people milling around not knowing what to do next. A policeman called us together and said there is a fleet of buses on their way to take us to temporary accommodation. We waited for what seemed a lifetime to a 5 year old boy, my baby brother not helping the situation by non stop crying. When the buses finally arrived we were told they went to Camden Town looking for us.

The next thing I remember was standing on the top floor of the bus looking out of the front window passing through endless Streets of destroyed houses. the bus was crunching its way over broken glass inches thick, even at that age I wondered why we didnt get a puncture. The passengers were singing heartily, We Dont Know Where Were Going Till Were There. The buses made their way to Epping Forest, found a clearing and made a circle Wagon Train style. This was to be our home for the next few days.

When it was time to move away from this spot, the people who were looking after us were told to start finding us accommodation. The first port of call was Epping Town at an hotel called The Thatched House. They refused to take any of us in even after being told they couldnt refuse. So into the buses again and off to a place called Great Sampford which is near Saffron Waldon, here we were herded into the villiage school where a Mr Blaney, the headmaster ttok one look at us Eastenders, dirty and almost certainly lousy and made it very clear we weren't welcome. He was forced to billit us in the school house.

Hallsville Road School, Canning Town, received a direct hit with a landmine on that night, which devastated the whole area and although it was kept quiet at this time to stop the morale of this country plummeting....

IT CAME TO LIGHT THAT 280 PEOPLE WERE KILLED TAKING SHELTER IN THE SCHOOL THAT NIGHT

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