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WARTIME FOR A SOUTHAMPTON TEENAGER
By Doreen M Bennett
Written 60 Years On

Evacuation

2nd September 1939: By 6am, 600 girls were assembled at the Girls' Grammar School, each with a haversack of clothes, tinned food, gas masks - and name labels! We walked in files down Hill Lane to the station - we had practised 'waving' across the road earlier in the week. There were thousands more children at the station - the under fives with their mothers. As train after train came in, all were filled and moved away. We had no idea where we were going, but I realise now the organisation was fantastic.

At Bournemouth, we were marched to the Bournemouth School for Girls which we were to share, then divided into parties, and walked with a member of staff around the streets. Three of us who were friends, with two younger sisters, wanted to stay together, and when a billet for five was found, in we went.

Mrs. Hoppins and Miss Cave were used to running a boarding house, but were rather flummoxed by strapping teenage girls! - I think they had expected something smaller! But we were given two attic bedrooms, and we then sat on the floor to eat the food we'd brought. I can remember playing Dibs and eating Maltesers. Nothing seemed very real.

That night there was a terrific thunderstorm. The attic windows (dormers) leaked, and we tried to stuff them with cotton wool.

Sunday 3rd September. We went to Church, Holy Trinity in Lower Christchurch Road. At 11am, the minister read the declaration from No. 10, Downing Street, saying that, following Germany's invasion of Poland, the Prime Minister had sent an ultimatum to Hitler. I clearly remember his words, "No such undertaking has been received, and this country is at war with Germany". At that point, I felt very far away from home - which I never expected to see again - and very, very homesick.

Incredibly, later that day, we met two aunts, on holiday from Darlington. They couldn't get back - all the railways were requisitioned for evacuees and troops. They took us back to tea at their hotel, the Miramar, which helped.

Settling In

The weather was beautiful, and we were able to go on the beach. At school, a routine was worked out. Our school had the building in the mornings, including Saturdays, one week, with the Bournemouth school there in the afternoons. Then, vice versa.

My parents (William and Daisy Griggs) were able to get enough petrol to visit at weekends, bringing other parents. But we weren't allowed to go home until Christmas. This was the 'phoney war'.

Going out in the blackout was weird at first, I remember coming out of a cinema and getting enveloped in the black curtains around the doors, and thinking it was going to be as dark as that outside. But we got used to it, and to keeping any lights from showing from the house. Our attic room was not well blacked out, so we used candles - various of my pieces of my homework went in covered in candle grease!

Two more sisters joined in our 'billet', and there was Olga, an eighteen year old working locally. We all looked after one another - ages ranged from 10 to 15. And later two more came. We came and went as we pleased, but were incredibly self-disciplined. We were also intensely patriotic, and walked around singing "There'll always be an England". Films we saw reflected this patriotism: "The Lion has Wings", "The Sun Never Sets" etc.

The school had classes in church halls, and at the playing fields some miles away. But school work carried on - the organisation and the hard work put in by the school staff behind the scenes must have been incredible. Also incredible were those whom we considered very old, who suddenly got married!

It was a strange Christmas for which we were allowed home. It all seemed unfamiliar, and my father had to spend a lot of time at the ARP Report Centre, where he was Officer-In-Charge - this was in addition to his daytime job, of course.

The War Really Begins

After that the war really began to het up. Germany systematically invaded Denmark, Norway, Holland, Belgium, and all fell. Then France - and the Maginot Line just crumbled. Paris was entered, then France fell. We were really alone.

Before this, there was Dunkirk. We read with enormous pride of the vast fleet of 'little ships', which crossed the channel to bring back out troops - truly a miracle. Bournemouth was suddenly filled with French forces. As they marched, tired, dishevelled, to the tune of the Marseillaise, we gave them bars of chocolate, and took some back to rest in the garden of our billet.

Our school was taken over, and we had lessons sitting on the grass of the playing fields some miles walk away. (This was a month before our School Certificate (GCSE) exams, but these went ahead, in the Technical College - we all got distinctions for French conversation!)

If you look at the map of Europe, and see the vast area occupied by Germany, remembering that Russia and Italy were their allies, and US a long way from entering the war, you realise how alone we were. But by then we had Winston Churchill as Prime Minister, and his incredibly inspiring speeches put any thoughts of our surrendering from us - the world would have been a very different world today if we had.

The Bombing Starts

On July 1, we left Bournemouth and enrolled at the School of Art, which was still in Southampton. This was 'Battle of Britain' summer, and the beginning of daylight raids.

For us, the war was very near - aircraft constantly overhead, fighter planes returning from sortees - if they did the 'Victory Roll' we knew they had been successful. I was sheltering in the town centre when Pickford's Cold Storage depot was demolished. On another occasion, the tar works at Totton were hit, and a cloud of tar rose, floated across the sky, and descended, running through the streets on the far side of the town.

Underneath the Art School, part of the Civic Centre, the corridors had been reinforced to make shelters. Every afternoon, the air raid sirens sounded - the Germans were very consistent! - and every afternoon we trooped down to the shelters and sat in ordered rows until the 'All Clear' sounded. Often bombers were just passing over Southampton to another target.

Then - November 6th!

Our tutor decided this was a waste of time, and that we should stay upstairs until we heard planes overhead. This was the first time we had done this - and the bombs fell! - three direct hits on the school.

Here is a quotation from an article written by someone working in nearby offices -
"I could see a big cloud of dust revolving - and I said "Good God, there's something pretty big fallen down there." One of my colleagues leapt out of the window, ran along the roads and came back looking as white as a sheet, and told us that the Art School, just on the corner, had gone, and he said "All the kids were in it"!" End of quote, and back to one of those "kids"!

The room was full of choking dust and smoke. We couldn't see, but we joined hands in a line and groped our way out (it took days for the chalk dust in our throats to clear). We couldn't get through to the shelters - we were told they had been hit, the reinforcements were useless. Only afterwards I heard that the two girls I habitually sat between had been killed.

We climbed over rubble to find an exit, and made our way home. My mother had just heard what had happened. Then my father rang - he heard through Civil Defence circles, and had been digging in the rubble to try to find me.

The next day my sister went back with me to find my bicycle - it was a twisted piece of metal. We heard that some staff and children were still buried. Some were rescued, but about half the staff and about 60 children were killed - some of them were youngsters from a nearby school who came on one day a week.

The Blitz

Then - November 20th! Night raids had started, and Coventry had already been blitzed. Tonight it was Southampton's turn!

We were in our garden shelter as usual, and for the whole night, wave after wave of bombers came over, systematically destroying the whole of the town. Incendiary bombs followed, and the whole sky was alight with a vast blaze stretching over many miles. Fire-fighters drained the ponds on the nearby common when the water supply gave out, until there was no more water.

It seemed there was nothing left, but the next night they came again. By then, friends had taken my sister and me to their house on a hill just outside the town. We stood watching this vast blaze, knowing that our parents were in it. For some nights, people trekked outside the town, and camped, some in cars, but had to go back to their work in town in the daytime. And, of course, Civil Defence personnel - Air Raid Wardens, Fire-fighters, rescue teams, ambulance workers and so on were stretched to capacity. My father was one, and Ken, 15 years old (my future husband, but I didn't know him then) was a messenger boy for the ARP.

After that, for nearly a year, the sirens went every night, and we went down the garden to the shelter (my mother carrying the 'Bass Bag' with the insurance policies!). Sometimes, the planes were just passing over to other targets, in which case they would probably drop a stick of bombs left on their way back. On one night, such a stick was dropped in every garden in our road!

Electricity and gas supplies were often cut off, water had to be boiled after a raid for fear of contamination (not easy!). Tiles from roofs were blown off, windows broken. Food rationing was becoming very strict, and there were queues for everything.

This was a grey time - songs reflected this - 'It's a lovely day tomorrow', 'There'll come another day', 'When the lights go on again'. Social life was very limited - we didn't go out at night, just played cards with the family next door. But there were broadcasts - Winston Churchill's stirring speeches, the post-scripts after the 9pm news (to which we were always glued). J.B. Priestley was always encouraging. And there was never any thought of giving up.

After the Sunday night 9 o'clock news, the National Anthems of all the Allies were played - this took a long time! They were mostly tiny countries, all had been invaded, we were the only unoccupied country at war left.

Evacuation - Again!

In the day time, life went on. Art school classes were held in an evacuated primary school, and twice a week we went by train to the Winchester school. Then, after Christmas 1941, we were evacuated - again - to a hostel in Winchester, joining with the Portsmouth School of Art, which had also been bombed.

Of course, teenage life in a mixed hostel was fun, in spite of food shortages, cold, and the constant background of war news. For the first term, we had only one record - Glen Miller's 'I Know Why' and 'Chatanooga Choo Choo' - hearing these brings back so many memories!

We danced, we had midnight walks over the Golf links (quite against the rules!) and we loved our work. At night, we firewatched - I remember sitting on the roof singing 'Deep in the Heart of Texas'!

The boys joined the ATC (Air Training Corps) of the Home Guard - they went into the Forces of course as soon as they were 18 - some didn't come back. Girls, too, registered at 17, and some went into the GTC (Girls Training Corps). During the summer holidays we camped on a farm and did the farm work - food growing was enormously important, as nothing could be imported.

The War Went On

At last, the USA entered the war, after the bombing of Pearl Harbour by the Japanese. Hordes of American troops came over.

The tide of the war turned! Germany had invaded Russia, and we heard horrific stories of sieges, and the 'Scorched Earth' policy.

In North Africa, our troops, the Desert Rats, began to push back Rommel's forces. We heard a lot about General Montgomery. Then they crossed the Mediterranean and invaded Hitler's ally, Italy, and pushed slowly northward.

When we went home at weekends, Southampton was full of troops and we waited anxiously for news of the invasion of Northern Europe. There were trial runs - raids on Dieppe etc. But when, and where, would it really happen?

The Common near our house was a gigantic army camp, as was our road - even our house! When I went home, heads popped out of sleeping bags in the most unlikely places! The road was shut off to anyone except residents.

On the day before June 6th 1944, all the troops were confined behind barbed wire on the Common to be briefed by General Eisenhower - Southampton was one of the key points for the invasion - the Mulberry ports were built there. But one young soldier, just 18, got out and ran to ask my mother to write to his Mum - we never heard what happened to him - we were very afraid for him.

Then - June 6th - D Day! - and wave after wave of troops crossed the channel to Normandy.

Doodlebugs and Buzz Bombs

This was the summer of V1's and 2's - Hitler's secret weapon - guided missiles sent across the channel, and dropping and killing indiscriminately. It was very important for our troops to get to the rocket launching sites to destroy them.

Later that year, I was at college in London, the centre of which was strangely deserted - we never knew when an overhead doodlebug's engine would shut off - then we would dive for cover. A school opposite was hit, with children killed and maimed.

Victory

Then - May 8th 1945 - V.E. Day!

We knew it was coming - the countries of Europe, first France, the low countries, then Germany itself, all taken back, Berlin entered. And, of course, en route, the fearful atrocities of the Concentration camps - Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Belsen were discovered.

There was dancing in the streets, but underneath the festivities, I think we were all still too tired, too fearful, and too sad, to really take it all in. And there was still the war in Japan….

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