大象传媒

Late 1940, my formal and only education had ended at 13 years and 11 months - this was it. No gap year, month or week, two days into the future there was I, sat on my bike propped up by the kerb. My feet on the handlebars, restfully reading a comic magazine, when Dad, stood in the front door frame, called out;
"Come on Dennis, we're going for a walk."
"Going for a walk?" I queried.
It was a nice day, but going for a walk with my Father? This I couldn't understand, he was always too busy. For years he made a living taking street betting ("Bully the Bookie") which was illegal, hence we were house raided five times pre-war. Now he found making a living from it difficult as horse racing was very restricted.
I was puzzled at this new found Father and son relationship, but did as I was told. Off we went;
"Where are we going Dad?" I asked.
"Never mind that, I'll tell you when we get there," said he.
About a quarter of an hour later after leaving home, 15a Morton Street Lawrence Hill, we walked across a footbridge over the Feeder Canal, and turned in the direction of Temple Meads.
"Not much further now." Dad said.
We eventually stopped outside a factory on the opposite side to the Feeder Canal. Guarding the enterance into the works a security man dressed in a uniform of some sort. He was quite short, only about 5ft 2 with his oversized peaked hat, hands behind his back oozing with authority. Around his waste was a gun belt, and dangling from the holster was the largest revolver I have ever seen. Wyatt Earp would have been green with envy! A nice man though when I got to know him later on. The reason we were there was now becoming obvious. Dad had heard they were recruiting workers and he had been directed into doing his bit of war work. He also asked if they could find a job for me, telling the personel man I had left school but will not be 14 until August 5.
"He can start next Monday, with you." was the reply. Monday arrived, so off to work we go. Others joined us on the way.
Our employers directed us to different areas of work with Dad going the opposite end to where I was shown. Mine was a General Store, stocking all sorts of various items. But I was more concerned with who else was working there than what the store housed. Later I discovered no one else my age, only me with very old men and they made it clear to only speak when I was spoken too. Two fatherly colleagues Frank and Fred helped me by showing me the ropes. They must of realised how lonely I was. My foreman Sam Downing, with sandy hair parted in the middle, heavy moustache, stained with nicotine, red rimmed eyes with a load broad, cockney accent, cigarette held between his fingers, he addressed me. "See that bike over there?"
"Yes" i replied.
"From time to time I expect you to do errands on it. No more than a 5 mile radious." He said.
"What a blessing!" I thought. "Anything is better than working in this hell hole." Giving more thought to the idea, "supposing I am caught in an air raid?"
He replied, "well if the sirens have sounded and it is quiet over head, you ride through it. Now on the front of the bicycle carrier you will observe the strip of metal. All you do is flip it over and it reads 'ON AIR MINISTRY WORK' the police won't stop you then."
"Will I get a helmet?" I asked.
Half turning away, with the hint of a smirk on his face, "no you b****y well won't." Daylight raids aswell as nightlong raids were occuring pretty regularly, and there was no excuse for being late for work the next morning. Sleep or no sleep, one was expected to turn up, and we did.
Music and song was bellowing out all day to keep the moral up, when they sang "there will always be an England" they meant it. So off I go on my first assignment. Sam has the half dozen or so orders in rotation, first place so, last place so.
"OK got it" says I. Being a novise, I chased about at break neck speed, collected my last order then chased back. Sam was standing infront of the store looking at his wrist watch.
With back up support from some of his cronnies, he uttered "this boy is the fasted lad we have ever had."
Then to me he said, "well done."
I was chuffed (pleased). A little while later Frank or Fred told me it was "B**." He has had in the past apparently, some very lazy boys who when sent on errands had stayed out all day! Never the less, it was only natural that I kept on moving fast. Best runner at school, now best on the bike! Sam showered more false praise on me, but it wasnt too last. Came the morning after a night of bombing, fires were raging still as we made our way to work. Pavements in roads were littered with jaggered pieces of shrapnal from our A.A. guns. Sam gave me my usual list of places to go, chancing whether they were still standing. It was tricky riding a bike while dodging the shrapnel. It was everywhere and would have cut my bike tyres to pieces. This took up time, and had many calls in Victoria Street (Yeo Brothers and Paul, Woodberry Chillcots, Harris and Kingdom etc) finding myself the far end near Bristol bridge.
Strange things then started to happen. Looking back towards Temple Meads crowds were gathering both sides of teh road. Special constables were cordening off the side streets and before I knew it, I had to stay put. It seemed quite a time before I heard cheering in the distance. Going up on my toes and stretching my neck, I saw a fleet of cars coming my way. The one in front had a pennant flying from its side. The cheering got louder as the cars came closer, then the first car stopped on Bristol Bridge. Then who should get out but our King of England! I was five or six feet away. Dressed in army uniform with red tags. But his face surprised me. It was bronzed, not with sun but with powder! He looked around for a while, taking in the bomb damage scene, waved, got back into the car, and left. It took some time to open up the side streets and for people to disperse, which meant that I was way behind with my schedule of calls. But I pressed on and completed them, before returning back to the works. Mr Hodge (that short security guard) was out front as usual, and seeing me coming he thumbed me in. I smiled and saluted as I passed (it was a friendly joke between us). The smile left my face when in the distance, I saw Sam pacing up and down with a terrible look on his face.
His first words were; "do this again tomorrow, and you'll be looking for another job." His finger pointing to his wrist watch.
"It wasn't my fault," I said "the police blocked off all the side streets in Victoria Street."
He went on to call me "a b little liar!"
I shouted back "I wasn't lying!"
If he didnt believe me, to "go and ask the King of England!"
"You saucy young sod, get out of my sight!" Of course the King's visit was kept secret until the last minute and only a small number of people were told. That evening the local papers (POST & WORLD) were full of the king's lightening visit to the city, including the wireless. My mind was easier now, Sam will see and hear it and all will be well tomorrow. Next morning everyone was talking about the King's visit except Sam. He couldnt humble himslef to apoligise to a 14 year old boy. Things were turning sour between us and I had no respect for him. Our store was at the far end of the works and you would use the main door into a hauling way (like a lane) that went the full length of the factory opening onto a large open yard. This was how some of the goods were delivered. Many a time I would be first on the scene to help off load. Sometimes the men would tell me to "leave it," but I always persisted, bored and wanting something to do. If only they told as later I found out that it was against union rules for a boy to be doing a mans job! But help them I did!
On this particular morning, music was playing in the backround and things were going along fine, then gradually a different sound replaced the music. It was skywards. Looking up we could see wave after wave of german bomber planes in perfect formation coming straight for us. They were low, unchallenged and making a thunderous drone. I prayed they would not release their bombs. A few minutes later, unforntanly they did. They bombed the Airpatch works at Filton and many people were killed, including my cousin Roy. Two days later, doing more errands in Victoria Street, the same thing happened. German bombers in perfect formation, were overhead. It was a lovely sunny day with cotten wool balls of cloud. But this time our fighter planes were ready. I watched, mesmorised as our planes dived earthwards, then turned right up the middle underneath them sending the Germans in all directions. I was somewhere near the entrance to St Thomas Street when someone grabbed my arm and pulled me to a doorway of a glass shop. They had a cellar converted into an airraid shelter. There I stayed until the all clear siren sounded.
Watching our pilots risking their lives to save ours, I was ready to face "P*** and Wind". Sam didn't say a word.
A couple of months afterwards, the errands boys bike became a war causulty. I rode into the back of a stationary lorry sending me flying onto the road! But fortunatly for me I wasnt hurt much, just cuts and bruises. The poor bike however, was a write off! My errand boy days were over. The stores department, didnt want me after that. They had me transferred to another department but I didn't mind. It was for the better. I stayed with the firm until I was 18.

I drove along feeder road recently, the first time in ages. The old firm building is still there, but used by someone else. Long ago it was known as 'ESS signs'. Long ago a security guard called Mr Hodge stood in the entrance, but that was long ago!

Several hundred people were employed there, including yours truely. I must of been the youngest at one time. ALBERT DENNIS BULL thirteen years & eleven months "ON AIR MINISTRY WORK".

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