大象传媒

This stoy was submitted to the People's War site by Morwenna Nadar of CSV on behalf of Miss Daphne Martin and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was a schoolgirl living with my parents and elder brother in New Malden, Surrey throughout the war. Shortly before it began, I overheard my father say to my mother, "Don't tell Daphne. There's going to be a war." Then, on the morning of 3rd September, 1939, no sooner had we heard the broadcast announcing that war had been declared than the air-raid siren sounded and we all went to a nearby railway tunnel for shelter, my father saying, "It's held up trains for a hundred years, so it can take a lot of bomb damage." When we got there, we were surprised to find that he was not the only one to have had this bright idea! Before long, the 'All clear' siren sounded and we returned home to learn from the radio that a mistake had been made and no enemy aircraft had been seen after all.

My father and brother then set about digging a trench in our back garden for an air-raid shelter. Here my father's First World War experience in France proved invaluable. His own design stood intact throughout the war, whereas, as he forecast, the corrugated iron Anderson shelters collapsed from blast when bombing began in 1940 in the neighbourhood.

On 16th August, 1940, New Malden became one of the first places in England to be bombed. The raid occurred on a Friday afternoon and my mother had cycled to the grocer's a mile away to get the week's food rations. She was on her way back when bombs started to fall, getting nearer and nearer to her. Eventually, although she was almost home, she decided that the last one was 'too close for comfort' so she jumped off her bicycle and laid face down in the gutter with her hands over her head, as, fortunately, Father had instructed us. As she did so, she shouted at a woman who was standing at her garden gate, to do likewise. A bomb then hit the road 10 feet from my mother. When all was quiet again she got up, entirely uninjured. The woman at the gate was still standing there, but she was dead - killed by the blast. After dropping his bombs, the German pilot flew low over the railway station, where a train had just come in, and machined-gunned the passengers as they came down the open steps, killing several of them and wounding others.

Many children were evacuated overseas and my American aunt kindly offered to look after me in New England. We were inclined to think that we would rather all 'sink or swim' together, and these feelings were confirmed when a similar offer was made to the Royal Family for the care of Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret, and the Queen (later the Queen Mother) gave the famous reply, "The Princesses cannot go without me, I cannot go without the King, and the King will never leave London." So, neither did I, but when the Blitz was at its height, Mother and I moved to my grandmother's in Enfield, Middlesex for a few weeks. One night, from the attic window, we saw a huge red glow in the sky. It was London burning. Towards the end of the war, this house was badly damaged when a landmine fell on it. Thus it was my 85 year old grandmother and aunt who then had to be evacuated whilst their home was repaired.

As soon as an appeal was made for volunteers for the L.D.V. (Local Defence Volunteers, later renamed "The Home Guard"), my father and brother both joined the East Surrey division. My father was made a sergeant. On a Sunday morning we could hear him shouting orders at the sports ground where trained, half a mile away! My brother was in the Red Cross section - one of the few in the country - where he served until he was called up. In 1940 my father was asked to have a telephoned installed so that he could call up his men quicly in the event of an invasion. (I still have the same number - with a new code - 65 years on!)

My father's office was evacuated from Westminster to inaccessible Uxbridge, Middlesex, entitling him to a petrol ration which also gave us the luxury of an occasional drive in the country.

In 1941 my brother was called up and he joined the Royal Armoured Corps. He became an officer cadet, and whilst training, he fell from a rope and broke his wrist very badly. I visited him at Kelvedon Hall, in Kelvedon, Essex, which was being used as a military convalescent home. the injured soldiers wore 'hospital blues' - a royal blue suit - and since they had nearly all been wounded in battle, they were treated like heroes wherever they went. My brother's injury was so serious that he had to be invalided out of the army, and whils this was upsetting to us at the time, at least we were later spared from any worry that he might become a casualty in North Africa, as could well have been the case if he had stayed with his unit - indeed, one of his former colleagues, a close friend, was killd there.

During the war my mother joined the W.V.S. (Women's Voluntary Service) to serve lunches in the nearby British Restaurant. These were set up by the government to provide, at a low price, the only food available to supplement our meagre rations.

My cousin and his wife owned the village shop in Newgate Street, Hertfordshire. He was called up into the Royal Marines, leaving his wife to run it by day and do all the deliveries by night. Thus she was only too pleased whenever we visited her and I delightedly 'played shops' for real, packing up the customers' weekly rations, including cutting 8 oz. packs of butter into eight 1 oz. portions. What a job!

At last the long-awaited day arrived when the war ended, and I went with my parents to join the exuberant crowd outside Buckingham Palace. How we cheered the royal Family and Winston Churchill when they appeared on the balcony!

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