大象传媒

"This story was submitted to the People's War site by CSV/大象传媒 Radio Nottingham on behalf of Marion Watson with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions"

I was only just 3 years old when the war started, so I can't remember the actual beginning. My Dad, GEORGE EDWARD HODGSON was in the Army (I think the Sherwood Foresters) and I believe his number was 1653513. He was 28 years old. ,I. remember him being at Huddersfield and Sheffield at the start, on anti-aircraft guns and searchlight batteries. I would love to help him polish his badges and buttons when he was on leave and spit on his boot toe caps to make them shine.
He was later sent to India where he helped to train their soldiers and he had some good times. My Dad was never injured, but had many of the sicknesses going, malaria, typhoid and of course "Dehli Belly" often, plus others.
On the way home he met up with a nice family in Durban, South Africa who took him and his mate under their care and when back in England he still kept up with them by letter until they died. Their name was LORD, a good name to have for a friend in a war.
He sent us letters and parcels back when he could and I have still got a lovely suede type bag with my initials on that he made. His letters were always welcome by my Mum, as she missed him so much, he always tried to make them cheerful by telling us about all the families and the cows that were sacred, roaming the streets, but there was always the reality of the poverty of the country.
At home Mum and I had an air raid shelter in the garden, but we didn't like going down into it. Our neighbour Mr Walsh was very good and kept his eye on us. One night the siren went and Mum said, just get under the table that she had pushed up to the wall. There was a Westminster chiming clock on the wall and as they dropped the bombs on Nottingham, one hit the Park at West Bridgford, the house shook, and the clock chimed continuously. I thought the house would fall down. The next day Mr Walsh took me down to see the damage, a big crater on the Park croquet lawn, it was frightening to think it was so close to our house (just 1/4 mile away). I had a gas mask that I had to take to school with me. Luckily I never had to wear it for real, just for fun and practices, thank goodness. When we had ration books and clothing coupons, Mum used to clean for a Doctor and a Solicitor to earn a bit of money and as they always need new clothes and could afford them, Mum used to exchange them for some of their children's clothes for me. I used to do errands for sweet coupons. Nobody had much in those days, but I think we were happier then.
I was 9 years old when the war ended and one morning Mum came to wake me up with "come and see who is in my bed". I asked "who?" and was told to go and see. This very dark, tanned man lay there and I cried out "I'll tell my Dad about you when he comes home about having another man". But it was my Dad and I was really amazed how much he had changed even from the photo's he had sent home. It took a while to get used to him as I had not seen him for 6 years and as I say, I was only 9.
One story my Dad told me was of a Nottingham man Mr Bendall who had a tea plantation in India, I think he also had a shop on Arkwright Street too. Mr Bendall used to give the soldiers some tea to make a brew, but Dad said sometimes you had to wait for a train coming in to get hot water out of the engine. Dad said he was lucky to be in the Army really, as he saw places that he would never have had the chance to.
Years after he would tell us all about his life over there and always wanted to go back to visit the LORDS in Durban, but we never had the money so he had to live with his memories.
Dad peacefully passed away on January 6th 1988.
My daughter loves to hear all about the war and how we all managed. She has her Grandad's medals and tends them with care.

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