大象传媒

I was five years of age at the outbreak of WW2, so I did not understand the meaning of the war and the fears of the adult population. I lived at the Red Cow Inn in Heckington and my father had the butcher鈥檚 shop adjoining. The first effect the war had upon my family was the loss of two of my father鈥檚 staff; Harry Rickell and Jack Ward were called up. It was a difficult time for my father, since he had been used to buying his cattle, lambs and pigs to fatten and slaughter on his own premises, and now the Ministry of Food issued Ration Books and distributed the meat, and the amount was calculated by the number of customers registered with him. My brother was the only remaining member of his staff and was deferred for a year, but received his calling up papers in 1942. This meant that my mother had more work than ever, plus a new baby, my little sister.

The next blow came when the Artillery Regiment decided to send some of their men to the village. Several houses were commandeered to accommodate the various ranks and officers; ours included. My mother鈥檚 Club Room, which in modern terms would now be the Function Room, was divided into two by adding an ugly brick wall in the centre, then a huge coal fired range appeared in one room and this part became a cookhouse while the other part became sleeping quarters for the cooks. The Smoke Room, which led onto this room became a Sergeant鈥檚 Mess. Until the Airborne Regiment departed for Arnhem we had a steady influx of soldiers living and eating in the house. Only the cooks slept in the house and most of them were decent men, but I remember being woken by bangs and crashes and my baby sister crying during the night. It must have been quite light since my father was roused too 鈥� extremely angry I might say. He stormed downstairs and then there were more bangs, he certainly sorted them out! It appeared that one of the cooks had stolen some money and they were fighting , but my father was a hefty bloke and obviously gained the upper hand. The Sergeants themselves entertained the ladies in the mess, which amused the locals when they passed the Smoke Room window. They were known to say , 鈥淭he hens are cackling tonight!鈥�

There was the sadness of local lads being killed, especially the friends of my brother. I remember my mother shedding a tear and visiting the family of Jonty Wetton. Then there was a particular soldier who came to say goodbye when posted abroad; he had a baby about the same age as my sister and bent over her pram and kissed her with tears running down his face. He never came back to England.

The environment was completely changed by the large trucks and guns that invaded this quiet agricultural village. By day there was continuous and at night the local pubs were full of these young men. Some of them were talented musicians and would entertain and accompany the singing on our piano, or on their own harmonicas or piano accordions. I was fascinated by the music and this encouraged me to learn to play the piano too. Many of them kept in touch with my parents, especially those who came for Sunday lunch when they could not afford the train or bus fare home at the weekend. One particular soldier became a firm favourite as he lived in the North West and often seemed lonely; Joe was the first Black person we had ever seen and he amused my sister and I with his wonderful drawings on our blackboard. After he left the village, we lost touch. I wonder if he survived? However, beer as well as food was rationed and there were times when we ran out of beer 鈥� 鈥榓 pub with no beer鈥� was a disastrous situation in wartime.

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