大象传媒

This story has been written onto the 大象传媒 People鈥檚 War site by CSV Storygatherer, Chris Knight, on behalf of Monica Twyford. They fully understand the terms and conditions of the site.

My memories of the war are many and varied.

All of our family were in uniform. My mother was the Sister in Charge of a very busy First Aid post in Mount Gould, Plymouth. My father was a Special Inspector in the Mobile Police,this was in addition to his journalistic career, before becoming a war correspondent on D-Day 1945.

Many funny things happened, even in the Blitz. One amusing time was when my parents went to the Gaumont cinema one evening. (By the way cinemas were eventually closed after 8 o鈥檆lock at night because the authorities wanted people safe at home rather than walking the streets and going to the cinema).
Anyway, my father went to get the car (he was still just managing to run it on the small petrol ration) from the Octagon, which was a few minutes away 鈥� leaving my mother waiting on the step. Of course, in the blackout it was difficult to see anything. After a minute or so a car drew up to the pavement, my mother went down, opened the door and got into the car. When nothing happened she looked at the driver and said, 鈥淲ell, aren鈥檛 we going?鈥�
At this a man鈥檚 voice said, Madam, I think you鈥檝e got into the wrong car!鈥�
Mother was very embarrassed to find another lady waiting a bit further up the pavement, but they had a good laugh about it afterwards.

Anyway, after Commercial College I arrived at my first job, at the Stores Department of the City Treasury, to find the three storey building flattened. I鈥檇 left my bike and old school blazer there overnight while I鈥檇 gone to the cinema the evening before. Everything had disappeared except for my bike, which turned up in Devonport several weeks later!

I remember my mother cooking our meal on a square Huntley & Palmer biscuit tin on the open dining room fire when the gas was cut off.
We sent a few sentimental items to my Aunt in Exeter, for safekeeping, only for her house to be burnt to the ground along with a much-loved table and, we thought, Granny's silver teapot.
They were left with only the nightclothes they were wearing after spending hours trying to rake out incendiary bombs from the roof gutters. However, my Aunt managed to save the teapot and buried it in the garden where it was rescued after the war.

Another thing I remember was that one day after I鈥檇 finished work, because at that period we had no gas or electricity in our house, I was going to have a bath at my friends - who lived not very far away in Beechwood Avenue. I rang the bell, no reply, rang again, still no reply. I realised the door wasn鈥檛 quite shut so I pushed it open to find the sky greeting me! The whole of the back of the house had gone. A land mine had exploded two doors away. She and her mother and father were in the gas cupboard. Her Granny and Auntie, who were staying there, plus the cat, were under a huge dining room table. They were all alright. There were eggs, on what was left of some shelves in the pantry, which were still intact - not even cracked. Her bicycle had been blown up onto the bit of landing where the upstairs had been. The stairs themselves were gone.

Another time our neighbours two doors down 鈥� there were four children and the father was headmaster of a school in Plymouth - and he was also a very good and conscientious ARP Warden. I went in with them as I was on my own and was holding their youngest, who was about three, in my arms. Suddenly we were blown by this terrific blast 鈥� a bomb had gone off across the road 鈥� but we were blown back into the Anderson shelter. The Anderson shelters were wonderful and saved so many lives and people spent hours in them.

I recall a childhood friends mother going, by train, to spend the day in Teignmouth. Tragically for her family waiting in vain for her return 鈥� she and her friend had been machine gunned by a low flying enemy aircraft. So much sadness, but a lot of camaraderie and laughter.

As soon as I was old enough I volunteered for the WAAF 鈥� this followed some of the heaviest German bombing raids on Plymouth during the Spring of 1941 鈥� and on September 25th 1941 I left Plymouth, by train, for Gloucester. When I arrived I found a few more would be rookies. We climbed up onto the back of a lorry and were despatched to RAF Insworth, Gloucester, for our basic training. After being used to a bedroom of my own having 30 women to one hut was quite a change. Another surprise was that, issued with our uniform, we were given navy blue knickers, grey lisle stockings, wincyette pyjamas, knife, fork, spoon and an enamel plate and mug. At our first meal on the camp we had liver and bacon, bread, marg or jam all on one plate 鈥� not a very appetising sight!
I always remember having to have our heads combed through free from infection, FFI, to make sure there was nothing in there.
Early morning exercise in our new, navy blue passion killers on a cold frosty morning was no fun either, but we survived. Although there was some heartache and homesickness we had a lot of good times with our new found friends. Letters and very occasional phone calls home were a joy.

Having survived our months 鈥榮quare bashing鈥� we went to Leighton Buzzard for our specialised training.
I found myself billeted in the workhouse at Leighton Buzzard and we completed our ablutions in the freezing cold, but we survived that too.
After completing our final examination I found myself posted to RAF Rudloe Manor, Bath. We worked 100ft underground. Going down by lift was a very strange experience until you got used to being in the bowels of the earth 鈥� and most were still in our teens.
My specialised job as a WAAF Filter Plotter was vital and interesting (we were known as Clerk Special Duties, (Clerk SDs) as we were not permitted to use the name Filter Plotter due to the secrecy of the work of the operation. I was posted first to Rudloe and then after two years I was posted to Headquarters Fighter Command at Bentley Priory, Stanmore.
Here it was even more exciting as we plotted friendly and enemy aircraft over SouthEast England. We would hear and see doodlebugs and the rockets overhead. Unnerving, but exciting.
Returning from leave several times on the underground tube stations we saw many people sleeping on platforms and escalators. One night, Wyn, my friend and I found a bed at a Sally Army doss house near Waterloo Station. That was an experience!

I was on night duty on D-Day and, when I came on duty at Bentley Priory, I thought ,鈥漈his is it鈥� The table of the British Grid system was full of the activity of the invasion. I could not help but feel a sense of pride knowing that my father, along with other war correspondents 鈥� Richard Dimbleby, Frank Gillard and Stanley Maxstead, to name a few, were waiting on the South coast for that great moment in history.

Along with 10 other WAAFs and one WREN I recall leaving a spoon on my bedside locker, another had a pot of jam there, and for that we got severe punishment. Confined to camp for 2 weeks with jankers and one months privileges stopped. So all our fathers complained about the severity of the punishment. My father contacted our MP Hoare Belitia (of Belitia beacon fame)and the Squadron Leader was quickly despatched to somewhere in Wales and the punishment was stopped.

The co-ordinates for the plotting table were obtained from radar stations around the country. There were only five places in the UK including one in Inverness Scotland, and one in Northern Ireland. They picked up high, and low, flying aircraft, both friendly and hostile and they got a plot and sent it through to us at the group.
We in turn put a plot down on the table showing whether they were friendly or hostile and the height and number of aircraft 鈥� you had to know your aircraft types 鈥� and, from this information (showing different colour plots from different radar stations) the exact track was filtered, by a filter officer, with an arrowhead. This in turn was phoned through to the fighter stations, observer corps etc and then they sent up the fighters. It was a very interesting job!

Sadly, as soon as the war ceased, we were stood down and that was a letdown as I was sent to Gloucester again (not quite the same camp) to records, which was soul destroying, before going on to be demobbed in the March of 1946.

Going back to Bath, my particular friend and I used to hitch everywhere - no fear and everyone was friendly. We used to hitch into Bath on our day off and the greatest treat was mushrooms on toast at the Swiss caf茅 for two shillings and that was wonderful. We were happy with simple things then.

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