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Memories of WW2 in a Cotswold Village

I was 12 years old at the outbreak of WW2 and can well remember Mr Chamberlain’s announcement over the wireless telling us that we were now at war with Germany. I wasn’t particularly perturbed by the news, we as a family were living at the Cotswold village of Winchcombe which was about 7 miles from Cheltenham, my father was the local Police Sergeant and our home was the living quarters of the Police Station and I didn’t see that the war was going to affect us. We had just returned from a family holiday at Weymouth and I was more concerned about completing my homework ready to hand in at school which was at the Grammar School, Cheltenham to where I travelled daily by train, life generally was quite pleasant for my sister and I.

My earliest memories of the war at Winchcombe was first of all the total blackout which was imposed almost immediately. All the street lights were turned off and a strict watch was kept to ensure that everyone obeyed the blackout regulations by not allowing any light to show through windows and doorways. Vehicle headlights were also blacked out by covering them with black sticky paper leaving just a small slit for the light to show through, we had a fairly new car - a Ford 8 and I helped my father stick the black paper on the headlights and paint white strips around the mudguards, the lights gave very little light at night, however there wasn’t very many motor vehicles at Winchcombe apart from the bus, which made regular trips to Cheltenham, so it wasn‘t a big problem.

The next event was the arrival of a massive pile of sand together with bales of sandbags, my father and the other policemen got down to filling the bags with sand, even my mother and I were detailed to help by holding the bags whilst someone three quarter filled them with sand and tied them up . The bags were then stacked to make a wall in front of the downstairs Police Station windows, the latter being criss-crossed with sticky tape to reduce injury from bomb blast - I personally couldn’t see why the Germans should want to bomb Winchcombe, but it was all taken very seriously indeed.

An Air Raid siren was mounted on the roof of the Police Station operated by an ‘off/on’ switch in my father’s office. For an Air Raid alert, the switch was pushed down to the ‘on’ position until the siren reached its maximum pitch then switched ‘off’ and the action repeated for about five minutes giving an up and down wailing noise. The ‘all clear’ was
given by simply switching ‘on’ so that the siren made one continuous wail. I later operated the siren many times when an Air Raid message ’red’ was received by telephone, but that came some 12 months later.

After the initial flurry of activity nothing much happened in the ensuing months and life continued more or less as normal, there were no shortages of anything at least not as far as we children were concerned. At the Police Station, Special Constables came to the office every evening to assist the regular Police mainly to enforce blackout regulations, most of them did not have uniforms at this stage and their only identification was an armband with ‘Special Constable’ printed on it, a flat Police cap, a whistle, a blue tin hat with ‘Police’ emblazoned on it and a military style gas mask. They seemed to spend a lot of time in the office although I don’t suppose my mother minded too much as she was expected to answer the telephone and take messages as well as answering the door to callers when my father and the Constables were out.

School carried on as normal, gas masks were issued which were in a cardboard box with a piece of string attached to carry around our neck, we considered them rather a nuisance as we also had our satchels to carry and we soon became lackadaisical with them and often ‘forgot’ to carry them. All through our school sandbag walls were erected along the corridors and we were given assembly points to go to in emergency; initially there were numerous drills when the school bell went, usually this was complete chaos as we were distributed all over the school in different lessons and after a while the drills got less and the sandbags ripped (or cut) open so that the floor was covered in loose sand giving us the opportunity of running and sliding on the sand.

Back at Winchcombe life carried on more or less as before, a Youth Club was formed where we could play table tennis etc. and a local elderly Chess Master taught a group of us how to play chess, but the Youth Club was not very well attended due to lack of interest, the local curate formed a Boy Scout Troop of which I was a founder member and as far as I know still exists. We had a small cinema showing two different films a week with of course the Gaumont British News giving us the news of the war; as there was no television in those days, we went to the cinema at least once a week and sometimes twice. For entertainment at home, there was the radio having shows like ‘Bandwagon’ with Arthur Askey, I.T.M.A. (Its That Man Again) which could not be missed despite homework and there were always forages into the country either on foot or by cycle. We made go carts out of planks of wood and old pram wheels with a length of rope to guide it, we even made a boat out of strips of wood and tarred canvas which promptly overturned when we tried to use it on a disused open air swimming pool in the village, but it had been fun making it, we never seemed to be short of something to do if only it was sometimes scrumping apples or cherries when in season.

In the summer of 1940, whilst at school during the day, we heard the news that France had surrendered, it didn't seem to have any special significance to us at the time, we had
other interests and problems for one thing Mosely Grammar School at Birmingham had been evactuated and were sharing the school facilities with us which disrupted our routine to some extent. About a week later Winchcombe was full of soldiers whom we learnt had been evacuated from Dunkirk, they were billeted in private houses, pubs and under canvas in fields near the village. The craze amongst us boys was collecting regimental cap badges which were cadged from the soldiers and worn on a belt around our waists, I had a dozen or more which I still have. Eventually the Dunkirk soldiers left to be replaced by more soldiers who set up posts around the village, they had artillery guns and Bren Gun carriers which were small open armoured vehicles with caterpillar tracks. Road blocks incorporating large round concrete blocks and concrete pill boxes for machine guns were also being built on all approach roads into the village, the soldiers being billeted in any suitable building including Halls and Chapels, for us boys the war began to get interesting. My father had been issued with a .45 Revolver and he and the other Policemen fired it at a target in the orchard behind the Police Station; being conversant with guns - I had an air-gun and had been out shooting rabbits with a 12 bore shot gun, I was allowed a few shots and was impressed with the recoil the gun gave I never knew whether my father's revolver was meant to repel German invaders or to quell civic unrest. .

Autumn was with us and there were news bulletins on the radio and in the newspapers of air raids on London and other cities including Coventry and Bristol, my mother was very worried as Bristol was her home and where her mother, brothers and other relatives lived, although we had a telephone there was no immediate communication so it was very much a wait and hope situation. At this time our air raid siren was working overtime, the warning came over the telephone, first it was air raid message 'Amber' then 'Red' when we had to operate the siren, the German bombers could clearly be heard passing overhead, their engines had a distinctive beat, all around the area were pencil beams of light from the searchlights trying to lock onto the planes. The night Coventry was bombed was quite dramatic, we could hear wave after wave of planes passing overhead and could see a glow in the sky to the northeast, I remember my father saying 'Some poor devils are getting it tonight', we didn't know it was Coventry until we heard on the radio the next day. This seemed to go on for ages until eventually my sister and I were sent to bed only to be woken up shortly afterwards by massive explosions which seemed quite near, we grabbed some clothes and ran downstairs but my father told us to go back to bed as there was nothing to worry about, it transpired that a couple of high explosive bombs had landed out in the country but no-one had been injured also an oil bomb had landed in an orchard near the next village together with a complete canister of incendiary bombs.

I was unable to get to school the next day as the trains were not running, there had also been an air raid on Cheltenham when the bombs had hit the railway line, gasworks and a street nearby. Anxious to see the damage, my friends and I went off on our bikes to Greet, the next village where the bombs had fallen, only to be sent on our way by my father and his men as the Army Bomb Disposal men were there defusing the incendiary
bombs which were brought back to the Police Station and left in one of the prisoners cells. One of the soldiers showed me how the incendiary bombs worked, inside were bars of magnesium which were ignited by the fuse on impact, he demonstrated that if a small piece was broken off and thrown onto the open fire, it produced a brilliant white light. The incendiary bombs remained in the cells throughout the war and I would sometimes sneak in to get a small piece of magnesium to throw onto an open fire with the object of surprising some unsuspecting person standing near the fire. There were quite a few aircraft crashes on the surrounding hills, they were all British or later American and many of us would hurry to the scene to scavenge what bits we could from the wreck including live ammunition sadly with scant regard for the crews who had perished in the crash.

1940 wore on and the news was not usually very good, we were told by the B.B.C. how many German planes had been shot down - usually in the 100's for the loss of just a few of ours. My mother was very worried about her mother and relatives at Bristol which had been heavily bombed, although petrol was severely rationed, we had enough to journey to Bristol about once per month in the car and on our first visit after the bombing I was shocked to see the extent of the damage around my grandmother's house at Kingswood and the centre of Bristol; Castle Street where all the big shops once stood and all around the Centre was in ruins. On one weekend on the way to my grandmothers, we got as far as Almondsbury when we saw a pall of smoke rising over Filton aircraft factory, my father stopped the car and we all got out to see half a dozen or so planes swooping fairly low over the factory and airfield. When we reached Filton we found utter chaos, part of the factory was on fire, fire engines and ambulances were in attendance, there were bomb craters in the road which was strewn with water hoses and we saw bodies of what appeared to be soldiers lying on the side of the road covered in khaki ground sheets, we managed to weave our way through the chaos to reach my grandmothers in awed silence, I began to realise what war was all about.

As Christmas 1940 and my 14th birthday approached things seemed to quieten down as far as air raids were concerned, everything was very scarce in the shops, very few toys, the sweet ration was about 2 oz per week, bananas and oranges were non-existent, groceries were on strict ration and even canned fruit was a rarity.
As a family we didn't seem to want for much as far as food was concerned, I remember my mother mixing the family ration of butter with margarine to make it go further; living in the country we had plenty of milk and eggs and as we were on the edge of the Vale of Evesham, vegetables were no problem, for meat there was always shot rabbits which were plentiful and my father often came home with game such as pheasants, hares, wild geese and the occasional joint of meat no doubt given him by farmers on his rounds. Animal offal seemed to be in plentiful supply, we had pigs trotters, brains, chitterlings (intestines), brawn all prepared by my mother for us to eat with great relish. In the summer holidays, many of us boys went out plum picking locally for pocket money although there wasn't much to spend it on.
The ensuring years rolled on with nothing of note happening as far as we were concerned until 1942, I wasn't doing terribly well at school, many of the teachers were in the Forces and their replacements were either elderly or foreign - there was one teacher nicknamed 'vinderpants', I imagine he was a German Jew as he had a strong German accent and on one occasion referred to the window panes in some context or other which sounded like 'vinderpants' hence his nickname. As a result of my poor academic performance, my father suggested I leave school and start work which I did in the summer of 1942 when I was 16 years; being friendly with the local Great Western Railway Stationmaster at Winchcombe he obtained a position for me there as a clerk and there started by two year career on the railway until by conscription into the army.

Whilst I was at Winchcombe Railway Station a number of things happened, first was the arrival of the Americans - trainloads arrived as they were setting up a huge depot at nearby Toddington, they gave us lots of goodies - candies, chocolates, chewing gum, cigarettes - brands we had not seen before e.g. Lucky Strike, Pall Mall etc.,we viewed them akin to film stars with their American accents which we had only heard at the cinema. The village began to fill up with Americans, their Military Police using our Police Station as a base and as a family we became friendly with a number of the regulars to our mutual benefit. Next came the Italian Prisoners of War who were held at a Prisoner of War Camp at Sudeley Castle, the Italians worked on farms and were soon allowed to walk out alone much to the delight of some of the local girls - they wore brown battledress uniforms with a white ring on their backs to identify them. Later on came the Germans P.O.W's, we didn't see much of them as they were not allowed out of the camp - Winchcombe was becoming very cosmopolitan!

In late 1943 when I was 161/2 years, a friend and I decided to join the local Home Guard which by that time had become well equipped and organised. We had a great time banging away with .303 rifles on the range, throwing plastic hand grenades and exercising in the surrounding countryside, I was trained to use a Lewis machine gun which I was allowed to take home, without ammunition of course, and to my mother's consternation regularly stripped it down and reassembled it on the dining room floor. The Royal Air Force was the ultimate goal for most of us and I recall being worried that the war would finish before I could get in so at 171/4 years I volunteered for the Air Crew and had to go to London for aptitude tests etc. over 3 days; to my great delight I qualified as a P.N.B. (Pilot, Navigator or Bomber) and I had visions of piloting Spitfires or Hurricanes, my dreams were shattered on the third day when I failed the colour test and was summarily turned down, it must have been a great relief to my parents as at that time the R.A.F. air crews were suffering huge losses in 1,000 plane bomber raids over Germany.

I continued working on the railway as a Clerk now at Honeybourne near Evesham in Worcestershire making the daily journey by train from Winchcombe. Honeybourne was a very busy railway junction and for the most part was thronged with servicemen and women, I couldn’t wait to get into uniform as I felt completely out of things. As I was
coming up to my 18th birthday, I was required to register for conscription - I could have re-classified as a ’signalman’ and claimed exemption from military service, but remain in my present post, that suggestion made by my superiors horrified me and I waited impatiently for my call up to the Army.

It was mid 1944, no-one had any idea that we were rapidly approaching ‘D’Day, there was lots of talk about the second front and it was obvious things were building up, troops, American, English and all nationalities were everywhere. Suddenly on one day of the week, there were masses or planes and gliders passing overhead - they seemed endless and still no-one had any idea what was happening, a few days earlier all the American troops who thronged the village, particularly the pubs, suddenly disappeared and it was eerily quiet. It wasn’t until the next day that we heard on the wireless that the Allies had landed in Normandy and from them on there were frequent bulletins of progress eagerly awaited by everyone.

Around November 1944, my call-up papers arrived for me to report to Fort George near Inverness in Scotland for army training. It was a long train journey from Winchcombe and I eventually arrived at Fort George which was on the Moray Forth and the most godforsaken place I had ever seen, the barracks was the home of the Seaforth Highlanders and was surrounded on three sides by the sea. I spent the next six weeks there undergoing intensive basic training often in bitter cold weather, I still recall breaking through a crust of ice on the sand to dig slit trenches and the freezing cold barrack rooms where water froze in a billy-can left by the side of one’s bunk. Following the basic training, we were allocated to various units and regiments; having worked on the railway I was posted to the Royal Engineers, Transportation Directorate, and sent down south to a place called Weavers Down, adjacent to Longmoor, Hampshire, which was the main Royal Engineers Depot.

Weavers Down was heavenly compared to Fort George, I remained there on a course for approximately 4 weeks before being posted to a Royal Engineers Supply Depot at Liphook and placed in civilian digs which was very pleasant indeed until after another 6 weeks I was informed that I was being sent overseas and given one weeks embarkation leave. This was my first leave since being called up and to say I appreciated home was an understatement, the leave soon passed and I had to report to a transit camp at Bordon in Hampshire, where we were kitted out with olive green tropical dress and told to write out our wills, we had no idea where we were being sent to but guessed it was Burma.

Next it was by train to Liverpool where we boarded a huge troopship, S.S. Strathmore, I had never seen a ship that large, but there were precious little comforts on board - our sleeping accommodation was a huge open area below decks covered with slung hammocks. We were allocated an area and from then on it was a matter of memorizing where you were and heading for your hammock and mess area; it was the end of March and we headed out to sea in a large convoy escorted by an aircraft carrier and various
other Royal Navy ships, the sea was extremely rough and many on board were very seasick, the stench from the toilets was vile, after a few days we heard depth charges going off but didn’t see anything and eventually we arrived at Gibraltar from where we carried on alone and unescorted. The sea now was calm and we took to sleeping on the open deck which was more pleasant than below on the mess decks, time was spent playing cards and generally making our own amusement as nothing in particular was organised, we went through the Suez Canal exchanging rude words and shouts of ‘Get your knees brown’ with British soldiers in camps adjacent to the canal.

Our final destination was Bombay where we disembarked, it was very hot and we were herded into dockside sheds to await transport to we knew not where. Eventually we boarded a very long train with compartments containing six wooden slatted bunks and the next 7 days was spent trundling across India to Calcutta eventually ending up in some barracks at a place called Barrackpore. It was now obvious that we were on our way to Rangoon in Burma, it was very hot and sticky and the future looked a little bleak as no-one relished the thought of jungle warfare, besides, we had heard some hair raising tails of what the Japanese did to prisoners of war and their suicidal attacks.

Fortunately for me I was selected to join the Headquarters of Allied Land Forces South East Asia as a clerk and that’s where I stayed for the next 6 months during which time we heard that the war in Europe was over, strangely enough there was not much celebration, our war was in the Far East and there was always that niggling fear that our next posting would be to Burma.

Most of our work was indenting for massive supplies of equipment which was presumed to be required for the invasion of Malaya, this appeared to be confirmed by the move of H/Q A.L.F.S.E.A. to Kandy in Ceylon. It was whilst we were in Ceylon that the news came of the dropping of the Atom Bombs and the Japanese capitulation, again I am unable to recall any specific celebration of the ending of the war although it was a great relief to many of us as undoubtedly we would have been on the invasion of Malaya.

My next move to Singapore was in November/December 1945, but that is another story, I remained there for the nearly 2 years eventually arriving home, with the exulted rank of Corporal, on the 12th November 1947, almost 3 years after leaving home for the first time. .

Leonard C.G. Francis

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