大象传媒

I was only five in 1939 - but these are MY memories, which are as clear as ever, such was the impact of the war on my life and the "responsibilies" thrust upon me.

For my Dad, his war began in July 1939. He had served with the Suffolk Regiment in the 1920's and early '30's in India, Ceylon, Malaya and China and was on active reserve. Over the radio, my mother heard that he was required to report for army service at the regimental HQ in Bury St Edmunds and left me to look after my younger brother, while she went to the gatehouse at the engineering works where he was employed, to call him home. We saw him off at the railway station that same evening, my brother screaming on seeing his Dad leave and my mother in tears. He said I was his "little man" and to do all I could to look after Mummy .. and that was the last we were to see of him for a very long time. With the BEF, the 2nd battalion of the Suffolk Regiment was sent to France, to take up positions on the Maginot Line.

My mother had a very hard time. I remember how upset she was when out shopping and a woman asked her how she was coping as a "grass widow" !! It took a long time for army allowances to come through and I recall so clearly her showing me her purse; all she had left was a sixpenny piece. The first money order came two days later.

When War was declared that September, an uncle insisted that we went to his home to sleep. Everyone was very nervous about what would happen next - we were just two miles from the coast after all. When the siren sounded for the first time at night, my uncle said that we should go to nearby heathland for safety from the threatened air raid. My brother was put into his pram and we all set off in the pitch dark towards the common, along with half the town, it seemed. Long before we reached the open ground beyond the town, the All-clear was given ... so we all turned back, to find our beds. The same process was repeated over the next few nights, whenever a warning was given, but nothing happened and the warnings passed off without incident. It was not long before Mum decided that it was better for us to spend the night in our own home,as the "phoney war" continued.

Christmas came and went and it brought French Christmas cards for us. I had written to Daddy myself, a letter which stayed in his wallet for the rest of his life. He marked my birthday in February with a card and wrote regularly home to Mum. Then, I can remember the retreat from Dunkirk; there was no news of Dad at all and I can hear my mother saying "What shall we do?" and being comforted by her sisters-in-law who lived in the town. He had simply disappeared.

Then, - I can't recall when or how long after Dunkirk - but my brother and I were in bed, when there was a commotion downstairs. My mother came up to us to say, "Daddy's home!" And there he was, with a very dirty face, I recall. I always said afterwards, of that moment, "I almost fainted down the bed!"

When given the order to retreat, his company made very slow progress from way down the Maginot Line, towards the Channel Coast, as the Germans were driving refugees ahead of their advance, blocking all the roads. Dunkirk came and went; they were too late and they had to make their way westwards across Northern France as best they could. It was a nightmare venture; the countryfolk were hostile towards them and denied them food or shelter. Water sources were polluted and they slept when they could with cattle, for shelter and warmth. They escaped in two fishing boats from St Malo but one was hit by gunfire as it was leaving the harbour.

My father was, to the end, very bitter about the total lack of recognition that escapees such as he received, all the glory being focussed on those who came out from Dunkirk. On the other hand, he said later that, had he escaped from Dunkirk, the chances are that he would have been back on a troopship for Singapore, where so many Suffolks were to be captured later by the Japanese. As it was, he regrouped at Clacton-on-Sea, where an uncle took us all, in his Austin Ruby car. The town was a no-go area, with streets of bomb-damaged houses cordonned off to the public. My Dad took me to a room in one such house, where he and his mates were billeted and sleeping on floorboards. But, at least, he was safe to fight another day.

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