大象传媒

Fifty years ago, Clacton was home to thousands of troops, tanks, transport vehicles, half tracks and guns. They bore the insignia of every regiment of the British Army.

Butlin鈥檚 holiday camp was accommodation for troops. Every available house and hotel was commandeered by the army. The area round Thomas Road and Melbourne Road was like a military camp. Pathfields Road School (now Colbayns) and London Road School, Great Clacton were both occupied. Sports fields were covered with gun emplacements, 鈥榖ofers鈥� and army vehicles.

Barrage balloons were tethered on every available spare piece of ground. Security was high, no one could move about without being challenged. To an eight-year-old boy it was exciting. Something was afoot!

I lived in Thomas Road with mum and three sisters, Barbara, Hazel and Doreen. We had one of the few houses which wasn鈥檛 occupied. Life was hard with little food and very few children to play with, most, unlike us, having been evacuated. I was known as 鈥淪kinny鈥�. (I wasn鈥檛 the fattest boy in Clacton at the time).

I became very friendly with the soldiers. I still remember their nicknames, 鈥淏ig Jack鈥�, 鈥淟oftie鈥�, 鈥淛ock鈥�. They were very kind, a sack of oats, a gallon can of golden syrup, bags of potatoes would mysteriously be found in our porch 鈥� what a treat!

A week or so before D-Day, the whole town filled with troops. Civilian movements were restricted though the kids still played in the streets with the soldiers. Blackout was rigidly imposed.

My most vivid memory was of being spoken to by an officer in front of a tank parked in Thomas Road. He called me over and unleashed all his fears and feelings to me, an eight-year-old. He told me about his family and made me promise that I would resist war if ever the situation occurred in my lifetime. He said that it was immoral and wicked and that nothing would be gained, only lost. I listened to the sadness in his voice, he was almost crying. I didn鈥檛 understand. It was all exciting to me and it was the only way of life I had known. I could draw no comparison between war and peace. I ran off and continued playing in the street between all those magnificent fighting vehicles.

I remember it was a brilliant sunny day. That afternoon, all the soldiers congregated in the back gardens of Thomas Road. There were no fences to separate the gardens. It was one open space stretching the length of the back garden areas of Melbourne and Thomas Roads.

All the way down the middle were dugout air raid shelters. You could walk from one end to the other without having to cross a fence. The dirt from the dugouts was banked up either side of the trench. Soldiers were lying there enjoying the sunshine.

Some were playing cards; others were playing a gambling game, tossing coins up to a stick 15 feet away. The one who got nearest could keep all the coins which were head side up. The remaining coins were tossed up by the one who was second nearest and he shouted heads or tails as they sailed through the air. He kept all those which landed on the side he鈥檇 chosen. Any remaining coins stayed on the ground and the next game began.

The scene I witnessed next I will never forget. A padre arrived and all the games and talk stopped. He positioned himself on a high mound of earth and told me to leave. A few soldiers objected and eventually the officer I had spoken to that morning said I could stay. I was told that anything I heard I was to repeat to no one. I was thrilled 鈥� a secret! None of my mates would know, not even my parents. I felt very important.

The padre recited some prayers. Bibles appeared from back pockets. The Lord鈥檚 Prayer was chanted. Things were becoming very serious. The padre told the troops that the liberation of Europe was imminent. All correspondence with family was forbidden.

The soldiers would be moving out that night to an unknown destination. He said that many would not be coming back and they should all pray. A very solemn scene ensued. I was crying. My soldier friends were off to battle, to be killed in some cases. I ran indoors but I vowed that I wouldn鈥檛 tell a soul what I had heard that day.

When I woke up next morning there was not a soldier or vehicle in sight. They had disappeared overnight, gone to war. Clacton was empty again.

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