大象传媒

This story by John W Buckley
Born in 1933, I was 6 at the outbreak of war. I was attending Burton St junior school at the time.
The war had not been on long, when the powers that be, decided we should be evacuated for our safety. Our school was sent to Radcliffe-on-Trent; on arrival we were allocated lodgings with local households. I was given digs with an elderly widow. I had only been there two or three days, when she decided; she could not cope with a six going on seven year old. She informed the Boarding Officer who found me another family.
This was a proper family, two sisters and a brother, the father we saw occasionally he was a navigator in the R.A.F. He was lucky enough to be stationed at Newton airfield, this was just across the main road opposite the house we lived in, and in fact we were just at the end of the runway boundary fence.
The first mistake I made .was to go into the local shop and ask for two ounce of 鈥渟pice鈥�, imagine my surprise, when she presented me with two ounce of cinnamon sticks. Spice is strictly Sheffieldish for sweets.
We went to Radcliffe Junior School about a mile down the road toward Radcliffe Town. The kids from Sheffield always seemed to be able to find trouble. There was plenty to do, we used to play on the riverside and watch the planes landing, after test flights. Of course, when the orchard' started to fruit these were too much to resist to town boys. Two or three of us made friends with a night watchman who used to tell us stories of the first world war, unfortunately, we sometimes didn鈥檛 notice the time and we would be too late for any Cocoa etc.
I said the house was opposite the end of the runway well, this was the reason I came back to Sheffield early. After a raid on Germany, the planes came to land unfortunately; one of the pilots misjudged his descent and came in too low clipping the top of our house. I had been sent away to be safe from the Germans and had my digs damaged by our own planes.
I came back to Sheffield to find that the schools were closed, the pupils were on Home Service and there were no spare places, so I had to stay home. I thought this was great but my mother had other thoughts about this. She found books of all kinds of subjects and set me work to do each day. The kids on Home Service did a lot less work than me. I had come home just in time for the Sheffield Blitz. We had been sleeping in the Anderson shelter for a few weeks before the Blitz, (of course our shelter was fitted out in pristine comfort) my dad was at home because he was a registered disabled due to the fact that he had a fall from steel framework of a building in 1937.
(He broke both ankles, after falling some 45feet, he had silver rods instead of ankle bones, these were implanted by a German Doctor). Because he was in the building trade and connected with the transport side of it he reclaimed a lot of material that would have been tipped.
He was also put in charge of the fire watch team for our street. The reason the girl who lived next door and I slept in the shelter started because we lived very close to the steel and engineering works around Penistone Rd. The Army had placed anti aircraft guns on the hills (Shirecliffe where the Ski Slope is now) of course bombers came over Sheffield even on their way to Manchester, Liverpool, or any other city West of Sheffield. Even though they were not bombing us, the guns opened fire, the noise was horrific the shrapnel fallout from the shells came down like metal hailstones. We got used to sleeping through the noise, however the Blitz was a different story.
The siren sounded just after tea, so we hadn鈥檛 gone to bed, the noise from the guns was different, (we found out later they had added rocket launchers to the gun sight). It wasn鈥檛 long before we became aware, that we were now hearing the sound of bombs, then they started dropping landmines, the noise level was about forty times louder. The ground shook and there was a peculiar smell in the air, (this smell is replicated exactly at the Eden Camp site).
The next morning my father was called out to work earlier than usual, because his lorry was needed to help clear bomb debris. My mother and me set off to her workplace this was a French polisher鈥檚 in Sydney St. We walked along Penistone Rd to Hillfoot Bridge, we had to go over the bridge because there was a bomb that had not exploded, the roads were closed till it was made safe. We passed the Rutland Cinema, this had a big hole through the roof, the film being shown was 鈥楬itler The Beast of Berlin鈥�.
To get back on our route, we crossed the river over Ball Bridge from there we walked along West Bar, there we saw a burnt out tram, we went up Snig Hill to Angel St. As we walked up the right hand side of High St, Walsh鈥檚 [TJ Hugh's] collapsed. Just below Walsh鈥檚 was Marple鈥檚 public house, this suffered a direct hit killing the greatest number of people in one place.
We continued to make our way to my mother鈥檚 firm (Figoski 's Cabinet Makers) where my mom was a French polisher, when we arrived the whole building was burnt out. This was a great upset to me, because, my Christmas present was set up inside (a full train set) so I have never forgiven the Germans for that.
We carried on to St Mary's Rd where my Grandparents lived they were bombed out, so we had to go to the church hall to see if they were alright.
We then went in search of my other Grandparent 's. These lived on the Manor estate on Motehall Rd, this was a long way, when we arrived guess what, they had an unexploded bomb in their garden. They had been moved to the Manor Top Community Centre. We had passed this on our way from St Mary鈥檚 off we went to find them all OK. Of course then we had to make our way back to Hillfoot.
The greatest upset that comes to mind was the queues for everything, it could take you two hours, just to get your meat ration, groceries was a nightmare you had to see, if they had it, then if you had enough points to buy it. Each person had a certain number of points per week, it worked out to a very balanced diet.
The holidays were a problem for most people, my family overcame this quite easily, I had an "Uncle" who worked for the G.P.O. I spent a lot of time going round in his van while he was repairing overhead cables. Another place I spent my time was at, what is now The Abbeydale Hamlet, my grandfather Buckley reopened the furnace, they worked it making small ingots of steel to be tested for the arms trade. The Company was Wardlows, the last pour was at the end of 1943.1 used to help the potboy make the crucible pots the steel was melted in.
At school, we used to have gas drill, this involved, putting on your gas mask, at the same time as going to the air raid shelter as quickly and quietly as the teacher thought proper.
The sweet ration was very small the supply of sweets, was very limited so, if a shop did get a delivery, the word soon spread and there was soon a queue. (In fact, if more than three people stood talking together someone was quite likely to ask, 鈥淲hat Are you queuing for?鈥�
I was lucky, in a way, because Dad was a builder, he rented two allotments on Den Bank he then built a bungalow on one just in case our house was bombed. We spent a lot of evenings, most weekend鈥檚, and of course I spent a lot of the six week鈥檚 school holiday there. The one drawback to this was you had to walk from Hillfoot Bridge to Malin Bridge and up Rivelin Valley Rd to Den Bank.
The best play ground we had was the banks of the River Don. We used the dammed water above the weir, as a swimming pool unfortunately the water was not of a very good quality.
I developed diphtheria; this is serious infection in the throat, very painful, very contagious and life threatening. The throat becomes swollen and there are septic nodules in the windpipe, these nodules swell become covered with a furry coating if the treatment dose not work quick enough you can choke.
Because it is infectious you have to go into an isolation hospital I went into Lodge Moor and was there for ten weeks. Your parents could only visit on a Sunday, when they came they had to speak to you through the glass window. They were on the covered veranda outside. They followed your progress by looking in The Star where they would see your hospital number listed under critical, very poorly, comfortable or improving.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.