´óÏó´«Ã½

I was a school boy in Bristol throughout the 2nd world war, being 10 years old in 1939 and leaving school at the age of 16 in 1945. Mine is not an exciting story as such, but I would like to record my memories of that dramatic time.
Prior to the war and at the end of 1938, those of us who lived farthest away from school were paired with those living only a few minutes (running time!) away and we had several practice runs with ‘timed’ pieces of paper to run to those nearby houses, get a signature from the ‘Mum’ (they were always at home in those days) then run back to school. Presumably these trials were satisfactory at scattering pupils in the minimum amount of time, in case of an Air Raid.
Later on in mid 1939 crude trenches were dug in the school grounds, lined with corrugated iron and roofed over, as Air Raid shelters. They were very muddy inside particularly after rain — we had several practice evacuations but, thankfully, no emergencies occurred. At this time we all carried gas masks and early in the war we wore them for lessons as a practice, then we had them checked as a suitable fit. Some children suffered from claustrophobia and tore them off but mostly we treated it as good fun!

As war became imminent, those adults who had served in the 14-18 war — fathers and uncles — were noticeably uneasy, but for us children it was in some ways, an exciting prospect; perhaps fuelled by the stories of heroism in the First World War that we had read. I was a ‘wolf cub’ in the local scout group and we started collecting waste paper at the weekends (not Sundays) from all over our area using Trek carts each with a team of 8 or 10 pulling or pushing. Climbing Westbury Hill on Falcondale Road was a real challenge! We were reprimanded for ‘accidently’ picking up bags of paper left out for the city councils’ collections which had just started — we found the empty Hessian sacks very useful for our own collection!

At home, we didn’t have an air raid shelter but had ‘under the stairs’ reinforced and a mattress on the floor, on which my Mother and I slept when necessary, with Father on a camp bed close by.

I changed schools in the summer of 1940 and attended Cotham Grammar School where, what had been a covered playground under the school, had been converted into Air Raid Shelters with large diameter pipes for emergency exits. Apart from practice evacuations, I only recollect using these on two occasions and that was during the two daylight raids on Filton Airfield at the end of September 1940. We had exciting commentary passed on by some of the masters who were outside watching the dog fights (wearing steel helmets of course) and inside the shelters we cheered loudly any news of German aircraft being damaged or shot down. We all carried our Gas masks with us all the time, When the night attacks started on Bristol, from November 1940, school hours were condensed to allow plenty of time for us to get home and, if possible to do our homework before the sirens sounded, which sometimes was ass early as six or six thirty.

By this time, Father was a member of ‘The Local Defence Volunteers’ which was soon retitled to ‘Home Guard’ and often he was on duty all night. One night when he was on duty we slept ‘under the stairs’ although the sirens had not sounded, because we could hear, what seemed to be gunfire far off. Early in the morning Father came home and said what a quiet night it had been! Ultimately, it was found to be a chimney pot that had been loosened by vibration from guns and bombs and the noise of it wobbling in the wind were magnified by the chimney — this explained the far off gunfire! During the night raids, the searchlights sweeping the sky for raiders, lit the sky and reflection off the clouds lit the houses. On several occasions I was allowed out of the house to see a plane caught in a cone of searchlight beams, shining like a silver fish with ack-ack shells bursting around it. I do not recall seeing any direct hits!

During late 1940, cairns of stones were erected all over Durdham Downs as a safeguard against planes or gliders landing and soon after ‘Smokey Joes’ appeared in large numbers. These were simple incinerators 8 to 10 feet tall, in which rags and oil could be burnt to create a smoke screen. Also very large mobile versions appeared, mounted on the back of lorries in the Shirehampton and Avonmouth area. It was intended that these could be driven to ‘up-wind’ positions, to blackout Avonmouth Docks when a raid was imminent. I do not recollect them ever being used.

Our dog became very nervous when a raid was in progress and often shared my bed but the barking of other nearby dogs would set him going.

Going to school on the morning after a Blitz was quite exciting — finding roads blocked by bombing, houses in ruins, signs indicating unexploded bombs and all the time keeping an eye open for souvenirs — shrapnel, incendiary bomb tails, shell nose cones (a very valued trophy!). One morning, on arriving at school there was a large hole in the playground with a large crowd peering into it. Later we were told that it was an unexploded bomb and we were sent home, but not for long! For 2 — 3 days we shared another school on a 50/50 basis until Cotham School re-opened.

During one Blitz a ‘stick’ of bombs fell close to home, the nearest one was 30/40 yards away but fell in the middle of the road, went deep into yellow clay before exploding and didn’t cause too much damage except broken windows, but set fire to the Gas main which lazed for many hours. There was a strong smell of gas, no electricity and a ban on any naked flames. I believe bread and jam and coldwater was my breakfast that day. The next bomb in that ‘stick’ was a direct hit on a house that was a billet for ATS girls, but fortunately they were all on duty at the Gun site nearby and no-one was injured or killed.

We lived on a high point and had a good view towards Avonmouth Docks, which had a large number of barrage balloons. The balloons going up in daylight, gave an indication of an anticipated raid, long before the sirens sounded. Another indication of an impending raid at night was the passing of a chauffer driven car (there were very few cars on the roads then, no streetlights and little to muffle the sound of a large vehicle) this was the car, which took the Chief Constable to his command post before the sirens sounded.

At crucial stages of the war ‘ National Days of Prayer’ were called for. The churches were full and over flowing on these occasions.

As Scouts, we were often called up on for simple jobs that in retrospect were helping the war effort — at the time we enjoyed what we were asked to do. At one stage we spent Saturday mornings erecting the indoor ‘Morrison Shelter’ — these were delivered to householders as many sections of pre-cut pieces of steel and ancillary springs and bolts and nuts of different sizes. When erected they became a floor level double bed with a steel plate lid and, with the side mesh screens removed, were used as dining tables. It was heavy work for a team of 5 or 6 12—13 years olds and very dirty work if the house holder had seen fit to paint the separate pieces, before they were assembled. Paint in those days was rather slow drying! Our only reward was perhaps a cup of tea and perhaps a biscuit or if lucky, a piece of war-time home made cake.

We were in demand to act as casualties for Civil Defence exercises, when we had labels tied around our necks detailing our injuries, then in many cases sent to hide in a specific bombed house to await rescue and treatment. On many occasions we were not all found! We that had been rescued then helped to find our lost friends. On one major exercise tear gas had been used and although had dispersed, it remained at ground level, being heavier than air, and both the hidden casualties, and those that had been found but were at ground level on stretchers awaiting ambulances, suffered. We all recovered very quickly on that occasion and were removed to a casualty clearing station for tea and biscuits.

When I was old enough I joined the local Army Cadet Force in addition to staying in the Scouts. This led to a very busy schedule when combined with school homework. We paraded once or twice on Weekday evening as well as exercises, sometimes with the Home Guard at weekends and rifle shooting at the range located in The Glen (now the BUPA hospital). I particularly remember one weekend exercise with the Home Guard when we were outflanked and I looked over my shoulder to see a section of them only 10 yards or so away approaching us with fixed bayonets. It was very frightening but taught us a lesson!

In 1943 many empty houses in Henleaze were requisitioned and several Companies of Black American G Is moved in. At that time the only black/brown faces that we knew were from the cinema screen or the newspapers so it was initially quite a shock, but we soon got used to them. Bicycles were difficult to come by in wartime, but very quickly the dealers produced quantities of gleaming new bikes, complete with bells and mirrors and other accessories for our American visitors — sold, no doubt, with a high profit margin!

Throughout the war, ‘Pig Bins’ and ‘Bone Bins’ were attached to lamp posts at kerbside, for householders to deposit waste food, vegetable peelings etc. and meat bones. They were emptied regularly and hopefully, contributed to the food chain and the war effort. There was very little vandalism from humans, but the dog population showed interest in the contents at times.

Having left the Army Cadets in 1944 I was old enough to become a Civil Defence Cyclist Messenger but only for ‘after Raid duties’ because of my age. I was based with others at the area Report centre in Redland, and had to report for duty one evening a week. There was little for us to do except to be there if required, as the air raids had virtually finished. We were all issued with blue battledress uniforms, an upgraded gas mask, steel helmet with ‘M’ (for messenger) on the front and provided with free cycle lamp batteries plus a small monthly allowance for bicycle maintenance. My table tennis skills improved significantly at this time, and the plentiful two course cooked meal when on duty was always a welcome supplement to the weekly ration.

Eventually VE Day came in May 1945, more or less coinciding with the ‘School Certificate’ examination or the swotting necessary to achieve good results. A kind and generous father of two boys in the scout group gave all of us a union flag to fly on our cycles, flags of all shapes and sizes were flying everywhere and smiles were on everyones faces. Black out curtains or frames were discarded and lights were shining from houses and buildings as it got dark, for the first time in six years. In the evening a party of us boys went to the centre but how we got there and back I can’t remember. The whole area was packed with people, some of the pre-war advertising lights were switched on but none of them spelt out the full words as many bulbs were missing. There were people of all ages, many in uniform, singing and dancing — I can remember joining in a giant conga, but it soon broke up in many small congas. People were dancing on the brick air raid shelter roofs, ships in dock were sounding their sirens and the few cars and lorries moving very slowly through the crown were blowing their horns. Six or seven of us clambered onto the back of an American army lorry as it slowly moved through the crowd, but as it got towards College Green and into the clear roads, he ‘stepped on the gas’, some of us clambered inside but others were still clinging on to the tailboard, rather precariously. The driver eventually stopped near the Flying Fox to let the passengers off, so we had quite a long walk back.

V.J. day came a few months later in August 1945, the flags re-appeared but everyone was more organised to celebrate, or so it seemed. Some of the servicemen went back, out of uniform, either de-mobbed or on leave. Record players and amplifiers were blasting out music, a giant screen appeared on one side of Henleaze Road and a Cine projector was projecting a film from the opposite side of the road while a little further on, a lar bonfire had been lit in the middle of a road junction.
Many families were re-united at the time and pre-war friendships were renewed but for many there would always be a gap in their family circle.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.