大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Martin Hough a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of Jean Lowe and has been added to the site with her permission Jean Lowe fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

I was 11 when the Second World War broke out, I had two sisters Roslyn, 9 and June, 7. My Father was a male nurse at Hollymoor Hospital and my Mother was a cook also at the hospital. We lived in a hospital house, it was a very frightening time, we all thought we would be killed immediately. All the 鈥済rown-ups鈥� talked in whispers about their fears when we were present.

My Sisters, myself, Mother and Grandmother were in Blackpool when war was actually declared. We travelled home on the train to alight on a platform that was quite unfamiliar and not on the main platform of the station. We then had to find our way off the station in complete darkness, we managed to get a taxi, which in those days were few and far between.

We were issued with I.D. cards, I still have mine and the numbers ran from QCDD 210-1 for my Father, 2 for my Mother and so on and so forth for my Sisters and myself. We had time off from school while shelters were built, at the time we were learning fractions which I hated and when I got back to school for some reason, fractions never seemed to be mentioned again, was I thankful for the war then. We only attended school part-time for quite a while.

On the Kings Norton Golf course there was an ack ack gun, a searchlight and a barrage balloon, the site was just across a field from our home. When the gun was fired it was very, very noisey and the barrage balloon made eerie noises as it pulled against it鈥檚 moorings.

My Grandparents lived in Small Heath, very near Birmingham City centre, where the bombing was very intense, and my Uncle was injured by shrapnel. Eventually as you could in those days, they got a house to rent where life was a bit more peaceful.

Because we were in a Hospital house we had Soldiers wives billeted on us, because Hollymoor was a military hospital during the war, and this lead to us having a few treats such as sweets or biscuits from the soldiers.

For many months at around tea-time there would be the unmistakeable drone of the German planes, followed by the sound of the air-raid siren which was a sickening sound we then had to hurry to the Anderson shelter, were we stayed until the 鈥渁ll-clear鈥� was sounded. The shelter was cramped and often filled up with water, which had to be bailed out.

Rationing was difficult, and if you happened to hear a whisper that a certain shop had something that was in short supply, jam perhaps, you went like the wind and got in the queue. More often than not the longed for item had sold out when you finally got to the counter. Towards the end of the war when I was 16, we sent to Valletta in Malta for nylons which were very sheer with a beautiful seam up the back. The dried egg was quite good, and of course the war effort鈥檚 staple diet, spam!

The black-out caused lots of problems, after dark you couldn鈥檛 show even a tiny chink of light from the house, shine a torch or have a light on our bicycles. We lived quite near to what was then the Austin factory which was a prime 鈥渢arget鈥� and the enemy followed the railway lines leading from the factory. One day there was a dogfight between a German plane and a British plane over the factory but eventually the planes flew off. Because we lived at the top of a hill we could see the glow of the fires in the city from the bombing.

Path鈥檈 News at the cinema showed us all the places that were bombed and how difficult it was for the ARP Wardens to deal with the injured, when trapped in the bombed-out buildings. The final news shown at the end of the war was that of the haunting sight of prisoners being released from Belsen. We shall never know how human beings could treat their fellow man in such a terrible way.

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