大象传媒

My war started in Cuddington Hospital where I was at the outbreak with Diptheria. I remember the siren going and the nurses pushing the beds to the middle of the ward, then back again two or three times, not really knowing whether they should or not. I would think that this was to minimise any effect of flying glass should any bombs have been dropped anywhere nearby. I had just turned 6 years old.

My parents must have arranged for me to be discharged soon after, as I remember being terribly weak. On reflection I think I should have had more time there to convalesce as I could only walk a few paces. But this period was what became known as the phoney war since not a lot was happening. That was soon to change.

Even though I was young, the memories are very vivid, like the time we children were playing outside and suddenly heard the chatter of machine gun fire overhead, a dog fight. This was fairly early on in the Battle of Britain. I suppose that because Mitcham Junction Railway Station was less than a mile away we were in the target area for raids, but I think that the German bombers would have a go at any large building whether they knew what it was or not. One time my eldest brother was standing near the window when a stuka dive bomber appeared to come straight at us. He was transfixed as the bomber let go a land mine which whistled over our house and landed a few hundred yards behind. The target, our school, two large blocks for infants up to seniors. He was a bad shot as it landed in the field opposite. At this time there was an additional danger in the streets from German aircraft who thought nothing of machine gunning people on the ground.

Then the blitz started. An ack-ack battery (anti-aircraft) had been set up next to Mitcham Junction Station, and every evening around 6pm the guns would open up to try and shoot down the enemy bombers as they droned overhead. There was also a phalanx of barrage balloons set up in order to try and divert them away from the railway.

In the distance, as it got dark, the sky was lit by the red glow of London burning. My Father, being too old to be called up, used to be a fire watcher from the roof of Waring and Gillow in Oxford Street where he worked. He did say that he reported the hit on the 大象传媒, which became a news item at the time.

As we had no shelter in our garden we were allowed to use the one belonging to people in the house backing on to ours. That was until the incendiary raids when they moved us out as they wanted it for themselves. So for a time we had to stay in our house using a cupboard under the staircase, or in an alcove next to the chimney. It was here one night that an incendiary bomb almost burnt through from the terrace house next door. Both families were evacuated into the cold night until the smoke had cleared, and the fire was put out.

Our next 'shelter' was South Wimbledon underground platform. The underground station platforms became a venue used by many Londoners. We used this venue until one evening my Mother who was suffering from a leg infection found that she couldn't walk as far as the bus stop. Fate must have decided that we shouldn't go that night as Balham Station took a direct hit which caused flooding down the line. Whether we would have been affected I am unsure, but from then onwards we didn't use the underground.

It must have been about this time that we had a brick shelter built in our own back garden, so the nights were spent in that.

The next stage that I remember was the arrival of the doodlebugs. This is without doubt the most terrifying time of the war. It is hard to describe the fear in listening to the vroom, vroom of one arriving overhead. It's sound was very distinctive, it's destructive power was awesome for it's time. Whereas a bomb would destroy one house, these would flatten a row of them.

All we could do was listen and wait. If it's engine cut out it would either glide for some miles, or it's nose would dip and it would plummet straight down. All you could do was pray that the engine would keep going and that it was someone els's fate. That may sound callous, but when you are in fear for your own life that is how you thought.

Normally they would be launched to arrrive during the hours of darkness, probably to create more fear, but there was one afternoon when I saw one. My Brother and I had been sent to get our haircut, the barber shop was just over half a mile away. We were about half way there, and there had been no air raid warning. It must have been about 50 yards away across the Wandle valley, and about 100 feet up. We were frozen to the spot in terror as we watched it, belching fire from the back. When it had passed, as we were nearer the barber shop we ran there. The warning sounded just as we got there. I suppose Mum was very worried as we got a telling off for not going home, but relented when we said that the barber's was nearer.

I had better say here that schooling became almost non-existent, either because the teachers hadn't made it to the school, or there weren't enough pupils to teach.

Then came the V2 rockets!!! The word was that you didn't hear these coming. It was shortly after these started that there was a mass evacuation of children from any of the danger areas. How children were chosen I do not know, but one day my next elder Brother and I were taken to a local school where there was a great crowd of children. We had no idea where we were going, but the rumour was that it was to a seaside resort.

The train journey was long, punctuated by stops, we were told because there were air raids going on. We finally arrived at our destination which turned out to be a village in North Wales called Chirk. The buses which had been laid on couldn't take everyone at once, so we had to wait until the first lot had been unloaded at the village hall. By the time we got to the hall, most of the food had been taken by the first lot, but I suppose we weren't very hungry anyway after our journey.

We then had to sit on a raised platform while we waited for someone to 'pick' us out. Finally a lady and gentleman said that they would take my Brother Harry, who was a bit tearful by this time. He insisted that he wouldn't be parted from me. Fortunately Mr & Mrs James decided they would take us both. I think we went to their house by car or taxi, but we did meet a young lad who promised to see us the following morning. George Porter became a firm friend for the whole of our stay there.

The following morning our gas masks were taken away from us, as we were told they wouldn't be needed in Chirk. It was explained to us that the nearest the war had come was when a German aircraft had jettisoned it's load on the hills about six miles away. The peace and quiet was in stark contrast to what we had been through.

Fred and Bessie James had no children of their own, so I suppose in a way we became their family. We were exceptionally well looked after, not only by the James's, but by other families in Chirk, on many occasions being invited to tea with friends we had made. I have elaborated on our time in Chirk in another article so I won't duplicate that here.

I have been back to Chirk a few times with my wife and family, and always have had a tremendous welcome. It is difficult to put into words my gratitude to them all, but I will mention particularly Heather Stokes and her Sister Ann as well as Norma Butler whom I contacted through Friends Reunited, and of course George. I cannot recall all of the names but those are the ones who meant most to me.

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