大象传媒

Chapter 17 Neighbours

Next door on one side lived the 鈥楽marts鈥� a nice, kind family. John the eldest son was my friend, Jean his sister, a scraggy young girl with spots. John also had spots! Too many sweets!

John鈥檚 father worked at Webbers Chocolate Factory in the 鈥楥auseway鈥� Fishponds. So sweets were part of the diet.

Our neighbours on the other side were the 鈥楶arsons鈥� Mrs Parsons was very elderly, a kind dear soul. Her hair thin and her face wore the lines of hard work and laughter too.
Ma would say to us, 鈥� Go and see if Mrs Parsons wants any shopping done and if she does and offers you any money for doing it, don鈥檛 take it.鈥� Mrs Parsons always gave me a halfpenny for doing her shopping and wouldn鈥檛 let me refuse to take it despite Ma鈥檚 instructions. That would buy a bag of broken biscuits or a quarter bag of sweets. Mrs Parsons daughter Lucy lived there with her husband. Lucy would play hymns all day Sundays. Pumping the pedals on the harmonium, singing to the Lord.

Chapter 18 Gas

Our gas masks were adjusted for a mustard gas attack, this being the same gas as used in the First World War. Posts with a bird-like table-top appeared everywhere. These would change colour in the event of a gas attack we were told.

Later on when I started work at the age of fourteen, I met men, ex soldiers from the First War, who spoke in whispers due to being gassed in the trenches. Their vocal chords damaged beyond repair.

Chapter 19 Dunkirk Heroes Return

I remember going with Ma, my brother and sister to Eastville Park where a huge camp had been set up to house the soldiers home from the Dunkirk Invasion and subsequent retreat which is legendary.

Most were wounded and all wore the distinctive blue suit, white shirt and red ties all badly fitting. This clothing was a left over from the Great War worn by hospitalized forces.

Ironically during my National Service in the Royal Engineers in 1950 I too was to wear this clothing at the Royal Military Hospital at Aldershot!!

At the Eastville camp people were wandering around, some with photos of loved ones asking the soldiers if they had seen them. Women weeping, children crying and occasionally some laughing and crying at the same time with their arms wrapped around a poor blue suited damaged soldier united with his family again. It was very sad.

Not sure why we were there. I think Ma was looking for someone too. She had relatives in the forces and had lost a brother in the Great War, the First World War.

Little did she know at the time she was to loose another brother-in-law, my Uncle Ray. He died in the Burma campaign some time after 1941.

Eastville Park was surrounded by green ornate cast iron railings. A huge canon stood on a plinth. A reminder of the Great War. World War One. Later the railings and the cannon were taken away to melt down to make war machines. Most items made of metal were cut down and removed for the war effort.

Chapter 20 Anderson Air Raid Shelter

The German blitz period for us meant sleeping in the Anderson air raid shelter . Not every family had one so we had to share with another family, the 鈥楧ibbles鈥� who lived opposite. Their daughter鈥榮 name was Brenda and the same age as Freda. It was very cramped and in the wintertime so cold and wet.

A sump in the concrete floor collected water that poured from the metal walls, this sump required baling out each day. The smell of damp concrete was all around. During wet periods the shelter would flood to four feet or more as this was the depth of the shelter underground. There were no facilities apart from a bucket which the occupants were reluctant to use due to the lack of privacy.

During the blitz period which lasted a year or so, the family slept in the 鈥楢nderson鈥� shelter every night as this was preferred rather than getting up to rush to the shelter during the night at the sound of the wailing siren.
We received regular visits from the roving fire-watchers of any damage, or worse, the deaths of people in the surrounding area. The citizens of Bristol during the blitz will recall the bombing of the aeroplane factory at Filton. The workers had taken refuge in the shelters during this particularly heavy raid. A direct hit demolished the shelters and all it鈥檚 occupants were killed. Oh! Dear! A very sad day which lowered the spirits of everyone.

The journey to school was one of discovery. Walking along gazing at the houses just hanging there, most with the walls knocked out exposing the contents that up to that moment had been
private. Wallpaper hanging on to large chunks of plaster, a bath right on the edge ready to topple. Bedrooms with a mangled iron bedstead. Occupants picking through what was left of their belongings, sitting amongst the debris crying, not believing what has happened to them.

Chapter 21 Shrapnel a Wartime Hobby

Shrapnel, bomb and shell casing fragments, were all important to children during World War11. It was used to barter for other goods, marbles, foreign stamps etc. Shrapnel was searched for after every raid, collected and graded. Placed in jam- jars and labeled. Children became very knowledgeable identifying where the shrapnel had come from be it a German high explosive bomb, incendiary fire bomb, land mine or from our own soldiers anti- aircraft shells.
The drone of aircraft overhead was relentless during the 鈥淏litz Years鈥� and again we became very adapt recognizing the different types of aircraft and knowing if they were 鈥榦urs鈥� or the enemy. German bombers had a drone to their engines and when heavily laden with bombs would emphasized this drone. We also learnt to recognize the silhouette of each aircraft.

Chapter 22 The Blitz

Bristol, as other major cities, were constantly under attack. Every night the German planes came in their droves to bomb the living daylights out of us, not only by night but daytime too.

First came the Pathfinders, aircraft that would find the target, mark it out with fire bombs like bees finding honey. Then the main force would arrive with a continuous stream of bombers.

Amongst the bombers were the German fighter planes. Fast and determined. In response our own fighter planes were launched. Hurricanes and Spitfires. We would watch the 鈥榙ogfights鈥� enthrolled with the spectacle unfolding in the skies above us. Every shell that exploded left a huge black cloud of smoke. At times the sky was quite black with these man-made clouds.

Now we would witness the enemy under attack.
Machine gun fire and loud explosions filled the air. Great shouts of excitement as a German bomber plunged earthwards with huge black smoke bellowing from the fuselage. We watched, waiting to see if any parachutes would appear. They didn鈥檛. Now a Spitfire started to spin, winding down, faster and faster with a loud whining sound, a trail of black smoke following it down. Again we watched praying to see the mushroom shape of a parachute appear. It didn鈥檛 the crowd fell silent.

The sky would be full of aircraft flying in formations which seemed to be endless.
After dropping their bomb load they would turn for home scattering across the sky, some with a British fighter on it鈥檚 tail with blazing guns.

Looking out from our tiny Anderson shelter, we would see the sky lit up with the familiar deep orange glow a long way off and say, 鈥淭hank God it鈥檚 not us tonight, some poor devil must be getting it鈥�.

Next day listening to the news on the battery operated wireless we would learn that Southampton had been bombed throughout the night, casualties were high but so was the spirit of the people. We will see the Huns in hell . Germans were called Jerries or Huns and often other names which are unprintable.
Next night the door was blown off our air-raid shelter!! The red glow this time was more intense. God! Our house!, it鈥檚 on fire! No, it was the reflection in the windows of the terraced houses of the fires at the Eastville Gas Works which had suffered a direct hit two miles away.

The whole of the Bristol sky, likened to a late summer sunset but lacking the beauty though, as we knew the terrible reason for this glow. As kids we eagerly waited for morning to search for
shrapnel, the most important 鈥榟obby鈥� of wartime kids, that is until the Yanks arrived!!!

Chapter 23 Evacuation

At this time many children were being evacuated, sent away to the country to relative safety. It was ironical that the worst of the blitz was over. At this time the war was taking a turn in our favour at last. Needless to say, Ken and myself were evacuated to a Somerset village named Wiveliscombe which is twelve miles from Taunton. My life would change forever.

Standing at Fishponds railway station at Bristol with our small battered suitcases, names on tags tied to our lapels and gas masks stuffed in crumpled cardboard boxes slung over our shoulders we waited.

My brother Ken and myself were on the packed platform watching for the steam engine to arrive. Parents were milling around anxiously looking up the track for a first glimpse of the train which was to take their children away from them not knowing if they would ever see them again. The children were less anxious not understanding the full implication of what was happening to them.

Voices were raised as the steam engine could now be heard and soon came into sight with a string of brown coaches rocking behind.. A squeal of brakes, hissing sounds as steam escaped and the train was brought to a halt. It sat there waiting for us to clamber aboard.
It seemed like minutes before the guard waved his green flag to go. The steam engine gave a great shudder, the guard blew his whistle and we were off.

Ma shouted her last minute instructions, running along the platform trying to keep up with the train as it speeded up. 鈥淢ake sure you stay together and when you arrive ask the lady of the house if you can see the garden and go and have a good cry鈥� With these words firmly planted in our young minds the train huffed and puffed and we were gone. Ma, with Freda clutching her skirt, disappeared in a mix of smoke and steam and I guess a tear or two. We had never ventured far from home before only to go on the annual Sunday School trip to Weston- Super- Mare which was all of twenty two miles away!

Chapter 24 Arrival

On arrival at Taunton Station. Somerset, the coaches were waiting to transport us to our new homes. We boarded, kneeling up on the seats watching the countryside slip by from steamy windows which we rubbed not wanting to miss any of the views. Wiveliscombe would be our home for the next year.

On arrival we were taken to the village school. Other coaches arrived spilling out children who talked funny. They were Londoners from the East End. Our name tags were checked as we sat in orderly rows. Quite a few children were crying. Ken and myself thought of Ma鈥檚 words and saved our tears for later. Grown- ups wandered around staring down at us pointing at a child saying, 鈥淚鈥檒l take that one鈥� We sat and waited. We were amongst strangers for the first time in our young lives.

The school hall gradually emptied as more children were led away, some by adults looking very unhappy, muttering and complaining. You see, taking evacuees wasn鈥檛 voluntary. If your home had spare rooms you had to take as many children that could be accommodated.
No one else seemed to be coming into the school hall now. Ken and myself kept looking around wondered if anyone would come for us. We did as Ma said and stuck together. Ken grasping my hand. We were poorly dressed and scruffy compared to others. Perhaps a reason not to be selected.

Eventually a lady arrived late looking flustered, she had missed her chance of selection.This lady was a servant from a large house. The Billeting Officers knew there would be ample room there for two so she had no choice but to take us. Gathering our possessions we followed her out of the school to the waiting car.

We were driven to a grand house at the top of a hill overlooking the village. A splendid place with fields, animals, laying hens and a bathroom! A world away from the scenes we were accustomed to.

The owners, the Morells, were respected member of the community. Mr Morell was employed as an auctioner at cattle markets etc.

Mrs. Morell, the lady of the house, acted accordingly. They were kind to us and had a child of their own. Peter, about the same age as us. He was friendly too but rather studious. Mrs Morell asked if we would like a cup of tea. We said, 鈥淣o thankyou鈥� but asked to see the garden as instructed by Ma.

We were shown outside and when far enough away from the house we both had a good cry and that was that. We settled down to country life.

Peter had so many toys including the whole range of 鈥楧inkie鈥� cars. We were envious naturally. He did allow us to play with these. We in turn showed him how to make powerful caps with salt peter and sulphur, both freely available at chemist shops. A mixture of both, wrapped in a twist of paper would explode when struck with a hammer!!

Our stay at this luxury house was short鈥攍ived as the 鈥楳orells鈥� had agreed to take in army officers which I assume would fit into their life style much better than two scruffy poor kids from Bristol. Who could blame them.

Chapter 25 School

Ken was placed at the village school where we had first arrived. It turned out to be a very good school. I wasn鈥檛 so lucky, I attended a school set up for London evacuees. There were only three evacuees from Bristol at this school. I only remember Alan Gore. He was placed on a family farm and was very happy there.

We immediately became the target for much physical and verbal abuse from the East Enders until they eventually got used to us and the funny way we spoke!! Some even asked us to repeat the Bristolian saying,
鈥淭hee casn鈥檛 speak as good as thee cous鈥檛 and if thee cous鈥檛 thee oosn鈥檛 oost鈥� Which means, 鈥� You can鈥檛 speak as good as you used to and even if you could you wouldn鈥檛 would you鈥�

It turned out that my education was well in advance of the Londoners and I quickly became bored. Much time was spent making the 鈥榯imes tables鈥� with plasticine and learning these by rote. The journey to school came up Golden Hill, a strange name seeing as all the houses were on the condemned list, that is until war broke out then they became tenable again. Golden Hill led to the village square.

The shops around the square displayed war- time posters. 鈥淒ig For Victory鈥� and 鈥� Walls Have Ears鈥� referring to possible spies overhearing you talk about things which might be important to the enemy. All signposts and village names were removed or painted over.

The road led from the Square to pass by the blacksmith鈥檚 forge. I always stopped as long as I could to watch the blacksmith making horseshoes and offering them up to the horses hoofs burning them on. I just love that smell even to this day. The blacksmith would work the bellows and the roar from the furnace filled the place. Blacksmiths were very skilful making parts for farming machinery as well as shoeing horses.

From the 鈥楽mithies鈥� it was just a short walk to the school.

School lessons would commence with a prayer and hymn singing. Regularly the hymn 鈥楨ternal Father Strong To Save鈥� would be sung, this on one occasion made a little girl burst into tears and run from the room, you see, her father was a sailor and had been posted 鈥楳issing presumed lost on active service鈥�

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