大象传媒

1939-1945

There have been many stories of young pilots who saved Britain in the last war, even though they were very little more than boys themselves, but very little about teenagers.

I was 12 when the war broke out, an only child living in the East end of London, so it was decided I should be evacuated and sent by train, a very thirsty journey as we were not allowed any drink, ending at Taunton. I stayed on a farm but was a square peg in a round hole, so I wrote to my parents that I would like to return to London. The only good thing in the village life was that I was sent to a Baptists Sunday school. I had been to the Church of England with mum, but loved the chapel singing and friendly minister and his wife, and knew Baptists were for me.

I returned to London a few weeks before the Battle of Britain started. Dad had been in the army, so we had a very good Anderson shelter in our backyard. He must have put a weight of earth on top, once Hitler got going we were glad of this as bombs dropped to the side and back of us.

Dozens of London churches were bombed, but one I remember especially was close to us in Plaistow, the church had taken a direct hit, but a text on a post remained and it proclaimed 鈥� With Christ in the Vessel we Smile at the Storm鈥�. This gave the locals a lot of courage. Some schools had been hit directly, but the one I went to was only slightly damaged, so I got a bit of schooling after a few weeks at home. During that time I spent a lot of time reading, the library was only a 5 minuet walk away and never got a direct hit, so for a bookworm like me it was my favourite place to be.

All the other 14 year olds were looking forward to leaving school to start work locally. But as an only child my parents wanted me near home. So when the school sent a note home that I could learn shorthand typing at a school near our library, they were delighted and I went and never looked back.

When I told mum I would like to go to a Baptist Church she said 鈥淕o to the West Ham Central Mission鈥�, 10 minutes walk away, where I joined the Ranger Company. It was the law of the land in those days to join a Youth Organisation at 16 and contribute to the war effort with voluntary work, but with a wonderful Captain and Lieutenant loved it anyway.
I was baptised into the church in January 1943, so foggy that only parents came to service and Hitler gave London a miss. There was a hall of youth at the mission, a dream for any young person. It was built ahead of its time, with wall bars, ropes, parallel bars and vaulting horses. There was a piano in the corner, essential in the day before tape recorders.

We practised complicated exercises and marches every week and gave a display once a year for friends and families, with local dignitary in the chair. The Chairman鈥檚 remarks were always the same. 鈥淲e are speechless, never seen anything like this before鈥�. We would turn to each other and say 鈥淲hy do people always say the same as last year?鈥� When I look at the Olympics on the TV at the present time I knew that we were that standard but the government need soldiers, not athletes.

Our voluntary work consisted of helping in day nurseries and hospitals. I helped on Saturday mornings with babies in our local nurseries, which I enjoyed, and several of us went once a week to our local hospital in evening to help peel potatoes.

As giggling teenagers the sister in charge was not impressed, so we were pleased when the stint was finished. Living in an area which was being bombed regularly, we spent a lot of time helping members of the Mission dig themselves out of minor incidents. ARP and firemen dealt with major damage. There was no tap water in these house and clearing up made us very thirsty. I was so thirsty in one house that I took a bottle of their lemonade and drank it. I left six pence for it, the family were away at the time, but they did send it back to me with a note of thanks.

I followed on from being in Rangers to helping with Brownies, for which there was a training scheme called Cadets, held each week in a local hall. Camping was included in our training, so we were thrilled when our leader said we would be camping on the Sussex Hills. Most of us had only been as far as Southend on sea, so this was real adventure by train and buses. Camping in those days meant the local farmer digging a hole for the toilet; we took a wooden seat to go over it. We all carried sheaf knives in those days, as unless we could not cut out a piece of turf for our fire, we did not eat. There were eight of us so we took a bell tent with us and two smaller ones. We took two dark blankets from Army Surplus Stores and four large pins, specially made for campers, to keep them together. Woods were plentiful, so our first job was to collect plenty of kindling and larger pieces to keep the fire going. Having got our fire going the first day in a weeks camp would be spent in making camp furniture. We tied sticks together to make stands for a washing up bowl and supplies of food, eg. bread, jam, flour, tins of spam.

This week in July really was cloudless blue sky, so with one bus a week going to Worthing we made sandwiches and enjoyed our bus trip. By this time we all looked like lobsters, but with war time shortages could not find a bottle of camomile lotion anywhere.

My happiest moment in camp was on an Essex camp site on a beautiful may bank holiday. Six of us slept out under the stars and breakfasted on thick chunks of bread and jam (no butter).

In the days before T.V, sketches and plays which we produced ourselves were popular. We cadets were rehearsing 鈥淗iawatha鈥�. I was an Indian chief, having made my costume from old clothes and only finding one feather, which went in my hat band. We spent hours cutting up paper which should have drifted down slowly as snow on the big chief鈥檚 death bed scene, but when it came to the big night, the net which had probably not been used for years, broke and the lot came down, amid roars of laughter.

I was fortunate that dad worked on railway engines and had cheap railway fares, so one week we went to Shoeburyness to see my Nan and the next week to London by district line. I loved London in those days and never wanted to work anywhere else, so at 15 陆 my shorthand teacher said to me 鈥測ou could not learn anymore here, it鈥檚 time you took a job鈥�. She showed me a letter she had had from a from an insurance office in the Embankment, London. They were asking for a shorthand typer and an interview was arranged. On a given date I went, insisting to Mum that I would go without her. It was an small friendly office; the manager gave me a test dictating from the Parliamentary column in 鈥淭he Times鈥�. We had 鈥淒aily Herald鈥� at home, so I was lost. The secretary rescued me by saying it was an unfair test, so was taken on and my journeys to London by train began.

One day my friend Olive who came from school as well, but there was not a lot of challenge, so we changed to an account office. Prince Waterhouse in America sent regular parcels to their office in London, so we had a fair share of tins of ham and fruit that we had not seen for years. Clothes were also sent and when the big girls tried on smaller dresses it was an hilarious fashion show.

In remembering teenager years I remember shortages and how we looked out for each other. When we had lunch in the city, somewhere like Lyons tea shops, occasionally on a good day would find there had been a supply of Coty make-up delivered to the chemist round the corner, or stockings from Dorothy Perkins dress shop. We all needed fountain pens in those days, so with a lot of us needing these I found a shop in London that had a good supply and kept going back for more until I was recognised by the shop keeper and told I had my share.

With a love of clothes it was difficult making coupons last, oil wool was off ration so we spent hours washing it and winding it before knitting it into jumpers of socks. Parachute silk could also be found and this we used for underclothes. I loved knitting and with Mum鈥檚 sewing machine made the most of what was around. I had a lot of illness in the war, in the days before antibiotics only the toughest survived. I had rheumatic fever the year Hitler invaded Russia. After sleeping for months in an air raid shelter it was bliss to go back to my own bedroom for two whole weeks and be ill in comfort.

Looking back I realise the water would be infected in a badly bombed area. I got jaundice and impetigo at the same time. Our local doctor was a very gruff individual. I burst into tears in the surgery because I thought I had impetigo because I was dirty. 鈥淪illy girly鈥� says the doctor 鈥測ou are going on a train to London everyday and not getting enough food to fight infection鈥�. It wasn鈥檛 a cure but it was encouraging.

I loved taking a book into our very small garden shed to read. Dad was good at woodwork and had fixed me a little shelf there, as well as a bench to sit on. Staying in saved my life as a plane came over dropping its bombs at the end of garden and demolished our shed.

We had a spotted dog in the war and I had many happy hours walking him round our little local park. He was very useful in the war as he could sense bombers miles away and would start barking half an hour before they came. He would not stop until we got in the shelter, so we always shouted to the neighbours that bombers were coming.

We had to turn our minds away from war or we would not have survived. I was always grateful to our youth leaders who went without themselves to give us a Christmas party. There would have been no crackers at the table, the factories then were producing bombs. There was always paper strips to make paper chains, which were hung round the room and holly from the local greengrocer, a table lay with sandwiches, pies and cakes, it was very festive. We had games like musical chairs, with our leader playing the piano.

We all went to the pictures once a week, our favourite picture house was 鈥淕ranada鈥� East Ham, which ran a 4 hour show from 7 until 11 in the evening, this included two main feature films and a stage show, including a theatre organ. Teenagers were all meant to be home by 10.30, so cries of 鈥渨e鈥檝e only been to the pictures鈥� fell on deaf ears. I鈥檝e always loved live theatre, so the pantomime our ranger captain booked each year was very enjoyable, a meal afterwards in Lyons Corner House was the end to a perfect outing. Once I was earning my own money and had a season ticket to London a few of us would book for a show. Musicals were coming in and we saw shows like 鈥淎nnie get your gun鈥�. With hundreds of people away fighting a war London underground was barely used, so it was easy to get back to Plaistow. Working in London I loved walking round shops in Oxford street, where I looked forward to buying clothes without coupons.

Buzz bombs came over towards the end of the war; they were packages of mass destruction. When I looked up and saw them going over London I prayed that it would go over and explode somewhere safe, but they never did. I lived facing a railway and one of them dropped the other side of it, destroying three streets of houses. The house I lived in was so damaged it was pulled down and there are flats in it place.

The War finished the year I was 18, when I ditched the gas mask, but not the ration book as food rationing went on for several years after the war.

When I see our affluent teenagers I ask myself what would have happened if we had given in to Hitler鈥檚 Bombing, would they be under the Nazi thumb? Then I think 鈥淣o we don鈥檛 do things like that, we are British鈥�.

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