大象传媒

I was seven years old when the war began. For many months I had overheard whispered conversations among the adults, and realised that something bad was happening. But with no T.V. in those days, and the radio usually only switched on in the evenings for entertainment, I did not realise what the next few months would bring into our lives. My first memories of the real war was when the sirens sounded for the first time one Sunday morning. Everyone rushed in panic to the public air raid shelter which had been built into the ground of our local recreation ground. Concern showed on everyone's face, and I think it was expected that at any moment we were likely to be annihilated completely within a very short time. After about an hour the 'all clear' sounded and everyone returned to their houses to continue cooking their sunday dinner. After that, all kinds of precautions were begun. Everyone was supplied with curved steel sheets which had to be put into the ground at the same depth, and covered with soil to act as protection from bomb blast. The area of the air-raid shelters was very small - about 8' x 6' in out case - and there were double bunks round the walls for sleeping.
Untill all the shelters were built, people made their own indoor protection arrangements. The strongest part of the house was said to be under the stairs, so cupboards were furnished with seats and rubber sealing was placed round the door to protect against gas attacks. We were all issued with gas masks which we were instructed to carry with us at all times, and there were heavy penalties for anyone who did not do so. Our windows were all criss-crossed with brown sticky paper, so that any glass shattered by bombs would not be scattered. Heavy dark curtains had to be placed over all windows so that the light could not be seen at night by invading aircraft. Air Raid Wardens, dressed in navy blue uniforms walked the streets at night looking for any crack of light and many were the cries of "put that light out", as any light seen from above could guide invading planes to their targets. Food rationing came into force, and I often wonder how my mother managed to feed a family of six on the sparse amount of food she could buy with our Ration Books. Clothing coupons were issued to everyone, and whatever we could buy had to be paid for with coupons as well as cash. It was a dire crime for one person to 'trade' their clothing coupons to a friend! All the young people from 18 had to report for war duty. Some were put into the armed forces, and others were directed to do war work such as making ammunition, planes or bombs. Often the work was not near to their homes, and they had to live away from their families. Civic Restaurants were opened by the local authorities so that people working long hours in the factories could buy a good cheap meal. Day Nurseries were opened to look after the small children of working mothers - before the war very few mothers went out to work while their children were young. Many of the women did what had formerly been regarded as 'mens work', such as tractor driving or working on other farm machinary, and the Womens Land Army became an essential part of the workforce.
I was living in Kent in a small spot called Crayford, which was quite near to the River Thames. This river was to play a big part in the war in our area, because the enemy planes would follow the river on their way to bomb London, and when they met the barrage balloons which were plentiful in our area, they would ofter drop their bombs and turn for home. British aircraft would often be following them, and they would turn into tremendous 'dog fights' virtually above our gardens. Many lunch times (and it ofter seemed to be lunch times) there would be fierce fighting in the skies above, while the children all watched and yelled their encouragement to the British aircraft. One day, while I was standing with my brother watching the fighting from outside our air raid shelter, a German plane suddenly swooped down low over our gardens, and there was a rat-a-tat of bullets as the pilot fired his guns into our gardens, and we clearly saw the man's face leering at us as he passed by, to crash some half a mile away.
Gradually the air raids got more numerous, until they often lasted the entire night. The sirens would sound in the early evening, and we would sit in our tiny shelter in the back garden as the guns around us made the deafening noise and the whistle of the bombs all around shook the ground. Sometimes, after a sleepless night, we would emerge in the early hours to find some of the nearby houses smoking in heaps, and the window frames of our houses lying in the back garden. For over six months we actually slept every night in the air raid shelter, during one of the worst winters I remember, with snow feet deep in the garden around us. We heated the shelter with tiny oil stoves and with two candles put between two flower pots, which would heat up and give out some heating, but because the shelter was made from metal sheets the walls ran with condensation and all our bedding was constantly damp.
Then came the Doodle Bugs! These were like great crosses with a long flame burning from the tail. They made a spluttering sound, and then the engine would suddenly cut out - then we knew they would land somewhere fairly near. They were unmanned, being enormous structures packed with explosive, and when they landed the whole area would be devestated. One of these landed on some houses near to us one night. As soon as it was daylight, my brother got on his bike and cycled to see what had happened. As he approached the scene, he saw an arm, complete with a wedding finger, lying in the gutter. He picked it up and gave it to a policeman, who gave him a 'cuff round the ear' and told him to "clear off home". Seven members of the same family were killed that night, as well as other neighbours, and we knew them all personally.
Later the Rockets started to arrive. These were even worse, as they gave no warning at all, and fell on their targets without any sirens or warning. We lost many friends from school during these times. One day a rocket fell on our local shopping centre, about a mile from our house. There was just a great explosion, a large column of smoke, and most of the shops were completely destroyed. There were many casualties that day. The next day my mother and I went to see if we could do any shopping. At the bottom of the High Street, only yards from where the heavy rescue teams were desperately digging for survivors, young shop assistants had made a counter from cardboard boxes, and were selling bread and other groceries. One of them had her head bandaged, and others had bandages on their arms - they had been the lucky ones!
Whatever disasters came, we were forbidden to talk about it. "Careless Talk Costs Lives" said the posters, for the government were anxious that the enemy should not get information on their success. Other posters told us to "Eat More Carrots" or "Lend a Hand on the Land". Margaret Patton introduced housewives to unusual new recipes to make their rations go round, and the Stork Margarine firm gave books on cooking - I still own my mother's copy of "The Stork Wartime Cookery Book".
Schooling was difficult in wartime. Before the air-raid shelters were built in our school, we had to collect in small numbers in people's houses, or were taken on short walks to school for maths lessons. But we did miss a lot of lessons. Pupils went off under the government's evacuation scheme so some classes were depleted. As the bombing got quite bad in our area, I went with my younger brother and sister to Lancashire. We went to a small seaside village of Askam-in-Furness. But I was most unhappy and homesick, and I returned to Kent as soon as the bombing became less constant. The teacher who taught me at Askham-in-Furness asked me to write to her and let her know of my life later, and she wrote me wonderful letters of her travels and life, while I wrote to her about my school life and what was happening on the war front. We wrote to each other for well over fifty years, and when she died aged 93, she left me a legacy in her Will, which was a wonderful surprise.
One of my nicest memories of war years was of a pet swan. On almost every street during the war, there were Air-Raid Posts - small huts which were the headquaters of the various Air Raid Wardens in the district. At the one near us, we had a 'resident swan'. The swan had lost its mate when they lived on the nearby river, and it never went back to the river again, settling itelf in the spot outside the Wardens Post where it was fed and cared for by the people working there. It loved children, and would waddle towards them if it saw them coming along the road. The children would cuddle it, and make a great fuss of it, which it enjoyed. It was there for about two years, and then sadly, it wandered into the road into the path of a motor cyclist, and it was killed. That swan was mourned for a very long time in our neighbourhood.
When VE Day arrived we were all given time off from school. This was just as well, as we had some very late nights for a while after that. We had a small street near us which ran off the main road, and every evening for a week or so, we had a great big bonfire in the middle of the road in this side street (what would the local authorities think of that now!!) We dragged out all the bedding and furniture from our air raid shelters and burnt it on the fire, and we sang all the wartime songs and danced in the street until the early hours of the morning. A few days after VE day my mother took us all to London one evening, where we joined the thousands of people thronging the area outside Buckingham Palace, waiting for the Royal Family to come out onto the balcony. The whole Royal Family appeared and the crowds went wild with joy; everyone was so happy.
Some people talk of 'great times' and happy memories during the war. I cannot really share those. My sharpest memories are of the 'Blitz' nights when we had to get from our warm beds night after nights, dress quickly and run through the frightening gunfire to the shelter in the back garden. Every night I used to pray "Please God, could we have just one night without an air-raid" - but sometimes I thought it would never happen.

'This story was submitted to the People's War site by Sara-Jane Higginbottom of the CSV Action Desk Leicester on behalf of Mrs. Christine Widger and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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