´óÏó´«Ã½

Explore the ´óÏó´«Ã½
This page has been archived and is no longer updated. Find out more about page archiving.

15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

´óÏó´«Ã½ Homepage
´óÏó´«Ã½ History
WW2 People's War Homepage Archive List Timeline About This Site

Contact Us

You are browsing in:

Archive List > Childhood and Evacuation

Contributed byÌý
´óÏó´«Ã½ Southern Counties Radio
People in story:Ìý
Peter Rice
Location of story:Ìý
Longbridge Deverill
Background to story:Ìý
Civilian
Article ID:Ìý
A4390652
Contributed on:Ìý
07 July 2005

I was born in 1940 in Chiswick, so my memories of war time London are vague, however I do remember the trips to my grandfathers in Longbridge Deverill in Wiltshire where my mother used to take me to get away from the bombing.

The countryside was a shock even for my young system; at home we had running water, electric light, flushing toilets and a gas supply, when we arrived at my grandfathers we had none of these, his toilet was outside at the bottom of the garden, (the gas mask we had to carry was useful) with no flush and the night soil pot was emptied on the garden at regular intervals, he had the best garden in the area, with the most wonderful raspberries. We had no gas or electric, light was by oil lamp — water was boiled in a pot over the fire. But first the water had to be drawn up from the well in the front garden in a bucket on the end of a rope.

He was the head gardener at a large house in the village. But he lived in a house with the river running at the bottom of his garden, where I used to watch the fish swimming, both from the bank and from the little bridge that crossed it; the bridge was used by the army and tanks crossed it regularly, eventually causing damage.

Next to Grandfathers house was the Smithy where I used to spend time watching the blacksmith pumping the bellows and shoeing the farm horses, one the things I remember from both the smithy and my grandfathers is of them listening to the radio as they tried to tune it in among the crackles of static, the accumulator had to be recharged at regular intervals (the same as radio batteries today).

We used to stay for two or three months at a time, then my father would come down and pick us up when he had leave from the ARP; and we would all travel back to London.

My only real memory of the war touching the peace of the village is of watching a flight of German planes flying over the fields and jettisoning their bombs. It was a place of peace and quiet that even at my young age I always looked forward to returning to.

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

Archive List

This story has been placed in the following categories.

Childhood and Evacuation Category
icon for Story with photoStory with photo

Most of the content on this site is created by our users, who are members of the public. The views expressed are theirs and unless specifically stated are not those of the ´óÏó´«Ã½. The ´óÏó´«Ã½ is not responsible for the content of any external sites referenced. In the event that you consider anything on this page to be in breach of the site's House Rules, please click here. For any other comments, please Contact Us.



About the ´óÏó´«Ã½ | Help | Terms of Use | Privacy & Cookies Policy
Ìý