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I was a very lucky child during the war - I had the whole of Bletchley Park for a playground.

The mansion

Lord and Lady Leon had the mansion built during the Victorian era. The interior was so beautiful, with stained-glass windows, wood panelling, and marble and oak floors. The main stairs, with marble columns, spiralled up to the bedroom floor, but I think the most spectacular room was at the back of the house on the ground floor. I'm not sure what this room was used for when Lord and Lady Leon occupied the mansion, but I would think it was the most admired - it may have been the library, or even the dining room. I do not know of any person entering who would not have been lost for words. The ceiling was covered with intricately carved wooden panels, decorated with scrolls, coats of arms and floral patterns, and the walls were also carved, but this time with Romanesque columns and scrollwork.

The park

The park itself had extensive woods and beautifully kept lawns surrounding a decent-sized lake, which at one time had about six small rowing boats on it. When the war began the boats were removed. Perhaps some government official in London thought a submarine might surface and German spies might row ashore to penetrate one of the most secret establishments of the Second World War. Then they would see just how we managed to decipher the majority of German codes. My father never did understand the logic for this action, because when the boats were on the lake you could row out to the small island, where the ducks nested, and if you didn't get caught you found nice fresh eggs. The lake had lawns with rose bushes and large hedges surrounding it. At the top of one of the lawns near the mansion were two beautiful Magnolia trees, and between them was a rose arch with steps leading to the lawn.

Code-breaking school established

When Lord and Lady Leon died the whole of the Park was taken over by the Government, and eventually the code-breaking school moved there from London; this meant that everything was ready at the outbreak of World War Two.

During the war approximately 12,000 people worked in the park. These people did extremely top secret work. In fact Winston Churchill, who was a frequent visitor, often said that Bletchley Park was his and England's best kept secret. This secrecy extended to the very top, so that even some of the high command and government didn't know where the intelligence, informing them of what the Germans were about to do, came from.

The work carried out included the interception and breaking of German codes, the best known being the 'Enigma Code', which had been in use for many years and was considered unbreakable by the Germans. Also, the first electronic computer was built at Bletchley, so you can see we were very privileged children to have lived in such a place. However, we were so engrossed in our own lives that we were oblivious to the important work being carried out by so many people.

Playing in the grounds

I found the tallest trees to climb. I would climb and climb until I reached the very top. It was dangerous - the thickness of the branches would not support a sparrow, let alone a young boy - but at that age we never seem to see the perils that so often lay ahead. When I reached the top of the tree I felt as if I could see the whole world. I fantasized that maybe the Germans were invading and I was the last resort for our country. Then the inevitable happened – I was brought back down to earth by someone calling for me to come down because 'You will fall and hurt yourself!' How silly for anyone to think such a thing. Eventually I came down because if I didn't my dear sisters might tell told daddy and I would have been given a good hiding.

Then I had to think of another game to play, where no silly girls could interfere, so, off I went to collect duck eggs from the lake. This I would normally do first thing in the morning when the dew was still on the ground. On these days, the air was always sharp and crisp - you could almost smell the freshness. I would walk slowly around the edge of the lake, looking in the shallow water to see if any of the ducks had laid fresh eggs which I could reach.

Most times I would collect about three or four eggs and I would take them home so we could have them for breakfast – 'we' being my father, brother and I, as my sisters did not like duck eggs. 'You don't' know where they've been,' they said. I bet they would read that phrase and wonder just how they could have made such an absurd statement. Those eggs tasted delicious - I can still remember the taste and I love duck eggs to this day.

Family, but no friends

There were times when I would have to play with my two older sisters, as we were the only children living in the park during the war (except for our older brother Bobbie, who was 13 years older than I, so really he did not count as someone to play with). We were not allowed to have our friends come home with us, due to the very secret work being carried out there. So my sisters would be told that they would have to look after me, which they did with all of the enthusiasm of being placed in a room that contained a swarm of bees.

They would either try to lose me, and then they tell our mother that I had run off, or make my life a total misery, so that eventually I really would run off. The outcome was inevitable anyway - when I arrived home I would get a clip around the ears. I had great sisters, especially one who really took after our mother. I always thought this sister was the reincarnation of Hilda Baker - remember her? She was the lady who always got her words wrong - things like, 'Sir Francis Drake circumcised the word with a big clipper'. When we lived in America, my sister would say about the condominiums, 'Oh, look at those big condoms!'

Anyway, my sisters would have to suffer me for a few years yet, so when we did stay together, we would all go to the little hidden garden at the far end of the lake. The hedges were so high that nobody could see what we were doing. It was our secret place where we would tell our stories of pixies and fairies, dragons and kings. Then we would host make-believe tea parties, and only the most important of people were invited.

Life was great for a very young boy who really didn't know what was happening on his front step, let alone in the world. We never knew or understood what it was like to be on rationing. Mum and Dad always made sure we had enough to eat. I just don't know how they did it, but I suppose all mothers and fathers tried to do the same.

Bicycle heaven, or not!

My sisters were given a couple of bicycles for their birthday. They were twins and their birthday was in April (the same date as Hitler's birthday, so they were badly teased at school). I will never know where Dad got the bikes from. They were the type we used to call 'sit up and beg', like the old 'sky pilot' (priest) used to ride. Of course, the bikes were my sisters' pride and joy, and as I didn't have a bike, they were told they had to let me have a go now and again. The answer came: 'Nev' can't ride a bike!' and the retort from Dad was, 'Well, teach him!' Thanks Dad! This now left me at the mercy of my two beloved sisters. A sadistic glow appeared in their eyes. Have you ever read the 'Just William' stories? Well, double him and his antics and you will know how much I suffered.

The ideal place to teach me to ride a bicycle was on the road between the mansion and the bungalow (where Colossus, the first electronic computer was built) - from the archway down to the roadway, which was a nice little hill leading to the front of the mansion. I was glad that the lake wasn't at the bottom of this hill (although I could swear my sisters were willing the lake to move). I could just imagine their reply to our parents if I had gone into the water: 'Well, you told us we had to teach him. Can we help it if he can't steer properly?'

Sometimes I had the feeling that one day I would get home and they would have all moved, or I unwrap my sandwiches and find that the wrapping was a road map. It wasn't that my family didn't like me – it was just that as a 'mistake', and the baby of the family, I was merely tolerated (as everyone kept reminding me). And there was nobody of my own age to be with until after the war, when another family finally moved in next door to us.

Anyway, my sisters eventually got me onto one of the bikes. I could hardly see over the handlebars, which I had to reach up to and look under to see where I was going. They held the bike upright and ran beside me down the road, holding onto the saddle, with me saying 'Hold me!' and the answer coming back, 'Yeah Nev, go! We've got a hold of the saddle. You'll be OK.' (I mean that's like Hitler saying he will not attack Poland!) Then I would hear these two giggling voices trail off into the distance as I headed for the main road with jeeps and trucks driving around in front of the mansion.

Tiptoeing about

Of course it wasn't always fun and games. There were times when we were told we couldn't go to certain areas of the park to play, which was like showing a red rag to a bull. I, not my sisters, always got caught and was dragged home by one of the special security guards to face Mum and Dad, and, yes, I always got the clip around the ear. My dear sisters stood by like two little angels, as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths.

At one time, for some reason, we were told to keep quiet whenever the phone rang. We never could understand the reason for this, and it reached the stage that we were always scared of making the slightest sound. We would tiptoe around the house. I now gather the reason for us having to be quiet was that certain people didn't think that children should be in the park during a time of turmoil, and with secret work going on in our vicinity. Looking back at the way some of these people thought, it's a wonder we won the war at all. I mean, what could we kids have said, when mostly we didn't even know what was going on ourselves?

When the war ended we were allowed to have friends visit us in the park. Some such occasions were birthday parties. I remember one party - maybe it was the first one after the war - when my sisters Jean and Faye invited some of the girls from their class at school. They were all gathered on the big lawn at the lake, near the two beautiful Magnolia trees, and only then did our friends realise the size and beauty of our 'garden'.

By Neville J. Budd

Go to A2377019 for the full version of this story.

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