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After the war scare of 1938, we were plunged into war on 3rd Sept 1939. It was Sunday after dinner that Mr Chamberlain (Prime Minister) made the announcement. I heard it on radio and immediately the siren sounded, which was perhaps an error or testing. People hurried outside wondering what would happen or what we were to do when the ‘all clear’ sounded.

Everywhere gardens were being dug up and ‘Anderson ‘ shelters put in. We were lucky ours was a dry one, not all were. There were bunks put in for sleeping or sitting on and we soon became aware war was getting into its stride. My Dad and Granddad put our shelter in, and it was covered in earth with just a small door to crawl in. Fortunately, it had four bunks in it, but we took them out and put a mattress on the floor (which served as bed for Mum, Marjorie and myself). Dad was frequently in hospital or out on duty with the Home Guard (such was his sense of duty and honour, even though he was a very sick man).

Air raids were long and heavy (often from 5.45pm ‘till 8.30 the next morning). Heavy gunfire and tracer bullets made a pattern with the search lights and barrage balloons were put up to stop the enemy aircraft getting through. It was frightening listening to the whistle of bombs and the explosions shook the ground. We were told that you couldn’t hear the bomb that would kill you, as it would be a direct hit. We were always frightened that our home would be hit - if it happened you would be sent to a reception centre at a church-hall or school.

Most children were evacuated and schools were closed, often used by civil defence. A school near us had a barrage balloon, which now and then broke away in high winds and damaged roofs with their trailing wires and attachments. During raids, it was difficult to get back from work and of course straight down to the shelter. It was frightening to hear the whistle of bombs, and when they dropped a ‘stick’ of them, the ground shook and trembled.

When the Barking Park guns in East London sounded (which were huge and covered with netting camouflage), you knew they were close. I knew many people who died and was always sad to hear about them. About 50 bombs went off all around, but it must have been hundreds all together. We girls would listen for when the siren went, as you heard the guns sounding up from the Thames Estuary to as near as Barking Park where there were heavy guns and soldiers to man them.

Rations were very small, you couldn’t help being hungry. Some people would buy off the ‘black market’, but it was all stolen stuff run by draught-dodgers and ‘spivs’. We never had anything to do with it. All Services, including the Merchant Navy ships and their men were putting themselves at risk in attempts to deliver bona fide supplies to Britain, and we considered it as grossly disloyal (let alone dishonest) for people to buy illegal goods from the black market and such.

It was hard to make do all the time without enough clothing coupons. Girls used to paint their legs with some mixture to look like stockings. Adults were already grown and had some clothes which fitted, but we youngsters were growing and things always had to be altered and lengthened; knitting wool and every material was rationed, except hats!

The black-out was a nightmare. A torch battery was like gold-dust. No one who has not been through it could perceive how black moon-less nights could be without any lighting; feeling your way home by a wall, bending to feel if there was a kerbstone. On one occasion when my torch failed, I could not find where I lived until I heard footsteps and a man asked if it was me (by name) and guided me. I had nearly got home — but couldn’t find it! Buses had very low lighting, you could see the shape of them but that’s about all!

All the big cities in the country had their bombing runs, Plymouth, Coventry, Liverpool — all the costal resorts and places where the war-factories were making defence weapons were targets. The whole country went through it and deaths were considerable.

Just when we thought we were through with bombs, the doodle bugs (flying bombs) had started to be sent by the enemy. They were not spotted as they came in from the coast, and had a strange sounding engine which would suddenly cut out and it fell towards the earth making a huge explosion. This went on for a long time until they changed to a Mark II bigger flying bomb. I was working late with other girls and at 8 o/clock we heard one coming, someone shouted ‘get down!!’ and the thing went off just round the corner by the railway station, I’ve never seen such colours which were caused by the explosion in my life. The houses were down and dead were being carried out. I lifted by bicycle over the rubble, and was glad to get home.

I was just fourteen years’ old when the war began and 20 when it finished. My sister was called up for war work, but didn’t pass the medical and was ‘directed’ to working in the hospital for the rest of the war.

Doris
East London November 2005

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