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In May 1940 I was evacuated with my mother and younger sister to Bedford to stay with relatives. In July my father was serving in R.E.M.E and was posted to Luton, so he arranged for us to join him there and we rented a house in Oakley Road. This was a few yards from the Shaw and Kilburn garage, which the army had requisitioned with father, the Commanding Officer.

My schooling had been sadly neglected since leaving Colchester and as I had reached the age of eleven something had to be done to rectify the omission. Eleven-year-olds at this time could take an entry examination into the grammar school, and it was arranged that I should take a special sitting at Dunstable School for this purpose. I remember the very warm day in August when I met the headmaster and sat down in the school dining room to do the exam on my own, accompanied by an alarm clock with a loud tick! I didn’t do well enough to enter the appropriate class, but was accepted for the class where I was a year older than most of the other pupils.

At the height of the Battle of Britain in the middle of September, I joined the Prep School, which was based in Aston House under Mr H. Normally the uniform at Dunstable was Eton collars and dark suits but because of wartime clothing restrictions we were able to wear short trousers, blazer, soft-collar shirt with a school tie.

Every morning we joined the main assembly seated in Big School. The prefects, who like the masters, always sat in lines of descending seniority, took up their seats in the front row. Then the gowned masters walked in from the back of the hall and took up positions on the stage with Mr B at the harmonium. All stood as Mr E, the headmaster entered and took his place at the central table. Using the Public School hymn book we’d sing a hymn (quite often, ‘Dear Lord and Father of Mankind’). The headmaster said two collects and then we sang a psalm from the hymnbook. After a pause, Mr E put on his mortarboard indicating that we could sit before giving out the daily announcements.

On November 22nd, the Grammar School celebrated ‘Founder’s Day’ with a service at the Parish Church conducted by the Rector, Rev George C. In the afternoon Speech Day took place in Big School with prizes presented by Lt General Sir John Brown. He asked for the traditional half-day holiday, which was enthusiastically received. Then we all sang the school song — ‘Hurrah for Dunstable, the best of all schools!’

In the summer term of 1941 we were able to swim in the school bathing pool, and Mr H always made out that it was a great privilege to be allowed time to go there on Wednesday afternoons.

Dunstable had a Glee Club run by Mr B and included several masters and senior pupils from the school. I remember attending one of their concerts in the Town Hall when Mr B (my Geography master), performed an item wearing a variety of comic hats.

My second year at Dunstable Grammar commenced in September 1941 when I moved into Shell A class in Big School with form-master, Colonel U, an elderly gentleman called out of retirement to replace a classics master who had been called up for service. Several new boys joined the class, many of them Jewish whose families had been turned out of their homes in Poland.

As young schoolboys we probably didn’t appreciate the full implications of War. It was only when the siren sounded on Waterlow’s factory next to the school, would we take to the air raid shelters built in the school grounds. These were long tunnels with benches on either side so that we could continue lessons whilst the alert was on. Fortunately, I don’t remember these situations happening too often.

Sporting activities were curtailed because of the lack of young physically fit masters, so unless a pupil was keen to play football, hockey or cricket and get into one of the recognised teams, you weren’t pestered to take part. My sporting ability was not recognised, so cycling to and from school was the only exercise I received!

In May 1942 we had a school photograph taken. It was one of those long horizontal prints where the photographer pans with the camera. I still have this photo framed, sixty plus years on; I can remember most faces but many names escape me.

Just before Christmas mother was taken seriously ill and it was decided that the family would have to return to Colchester, so that she could be nursed by my grandparents. My schooling at Dunstable Grammar came to an abrupt end, no time for goodbyes and it was arranged that I would be transferred to Colchester Royal Grammar School.

Looking back on those wartime days spent at Dunstable School, I have fond memories of both masters and schoolmates and am pleased to be kept in touch with the Old Boys’ Association newsletters.

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