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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library in conjunction with ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Norfolk on behalf of Barbara Lockwood and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

For all his support I dedicate my WW2 exploits to my dear Husband, Russell Arthur Lockwood and the Father of our three Children, Yvonne, Julie and Selena.
Equally my parents the late Mr and Mrs E Sexton.
Mr and Mrs J Pointer and the all occupants of Old Catton, Norwich, Norfolk between 1935 – 1950.

They Will Never Be Forgotten.

Norfolk at War

A siren goes, once peace is shattered,
Sounds of heavy planes with bombs to scatter,
Amongst buildings and people, no care for the latter,
In War life's just as useful "mad hatter".

Rushing for shelter dressing every which way but right,
Perfected with time in the dark of the night.
The sound of land guns trying to protect
Giving us a false sense of respect.

The enemy high in the sky,
Doing their best to dodge search lights that fly,
Just a few of the problems we've tolerated
In a world with far too much greed and hatred.

Since my Husband has recently left this world, I dedicate to him firstly his own part in the latter part of World War Two.

He lied about his age by one year, and joined the Royal Norfolks to help clear pockets of resistance from terrorists still intent upon fighting the War out. After just 3 months of training he found himself on the way to Palestine, followed by Greece, Malaya and India. He told me the Malayan jungle was the most hazardous; there he developed malaria, in fact when he returned home this was his first problem due to the climate change and I found the disease frightening.

Part of my Husband Russell's enlisting was also with the Royal Suffolk Regiment and I believe he returned to England with them. However having a remainder of 6 months to do and to decide whether to remain in the forces or return to civvy street, he joined the Offices Training Corps at Sandhurst, but later decided to accept 5 years on reserve instead.

He worked for Laurence Scott for 15 years and then in 1968 accepted within the University of East Anglia, remaining there until he retired in 1994. This was when the overflow of students departed from Fifers Lane, Norwich (previously St Faith's airfield) to the new student village.

Neither of us ever expected he would be the last person to close down St Faiths Airfield, it was quite sad because we had hoped that it could be saved as a museum for all time. I could never have expected to meet a Husband in the future who would continue to work where I, then Barbara Sexton and a youngster had previously lived and tolerated the War.

In 1935 my parents moved from St. Faiths just along the road to Old Catton where I and my two brothers settled into School. The cottages are still there, as is the now dilapidated farm where we had so much fun collecting eggs and feeding cows. Mr and Mrs Pointer with their six sons were the owners. None of us really knowing what was happening when changes came about in the village, my Dad's lorry was confiscated by the MOD for carrying munitions.

What I believe is now the Age Concern property was where Mrs Carter lived, this was confiscated by the Ministry to accommodate The Scottish Highlanders for training before being posted abroad. Whilst they were in the village we appreciated their full dress rehearsal with bagpipes at least once a week along St Faith's Road into Church Street.

But our quiet life we knew was about to change when it leaked out that The Ministry of Defence confiscated all large properties for the use of billets. It wasn't long before the orchard was opened up and sand and cement were moved in, runways were opening up on the airfield for large aircraft and a long wide runway was built alongside our garden to house American ground staff billets. A blot on the horizon had appeared. One of our green fields and all the fruit trees and Christmas trees had gone.

Following the Highlanders departure overseas in came our English Air Force. This was when my Mother's work really started; from morn 'til night with only a tub and in-wall copper to do so much washing, but I wasn't left out as I could never get away from the ironing. So when I got married I refused to do anymore ironing, I wouldn't even buy an ironing board!

The American Air Force moved in overnight to work alongside our remaining air force on equipment and aircraft maintenance. It amazes me how things change; the Americans of 60 years ago were so friendly and polite and did their best not to upset anyone. Having said that, they were boisterous, noisy and children loved this. When Dad had a few hours to spare he was kept busy building bicycles for the American servicemen, so that they could paint them with bright art and show off. All the washing kept Mum busy and although all entrances to the airdrome were manned with guards at all times, we children were allowed to supply the sentries with tea and coffee which we did both before and after School.

The early part of the War gave us many false air raids alarms, although brick shelters were built throughout Norwich for city residents. Being so close to the airfield our homes were given added protection, blast walls around doors and part covering to the windows. At first we did not have a shelter, we used the cupboard under the stairs, and this was more of a fear to me than the noises outside, because there was a mouse hole in the skirting board!

I have no idea when Mum found the time to knit me a siren suit (that was the name of the all in one thick rug wool suit knitted on large needles). I remember it was chocolate brown with a hood and press stud flap across the back waist, for you know what. I treasured living in that suit, but I have never known who's bright, or not so bright, idea it was to suggest building a shelter a mile away from home in the middle of the cows field, the destination may have been a good idea but to get there was a nightmare. We had to go via an area and across fields that are now a housing estate. Some nights all hell had been let loose overhead. I was always last to the shelter due to the fact I could never negotiate the open gate to the field. One particular night the enemy were overhead dropping coloured flares lighting up the whole of the sky when I ended up flat on my front in animal dung and mud, covered from head to toe. It was the longest night for me as when I finally got to the shelter I sat in a corner drying to a crisp, grumbling about the smell and so did everyone else!

Before starting work on the airfield in the early morning the American ground staff would leave their rucksacks with any washing needed and parcels of food and candy, Lucky Strike cigarettes, chewing gum and lots of other items all sent from home, not needed by them, but very much appreciated by us the recipients!

In the evenings a selection of staff would be allowed passes; others remained on duty in case of emergency. The latter taught us along with our parents many card games; although playing for money in those days was illegal it was done. If the siren hadn't sounded our village "Bobby" used to knock on the door knowing there was a crowd inside, any money on the table disappeared very quickly for a while and then the game would resume, often there followed a friendly argument as to the amount of money there was originally on the table!

Those who were allowed passes to visit Norwich would trundle off along the road in the back of trucks singing songs and would come back often after midnight, thundering back to base along St. Faith's Road making as much noise as possible. We accepted and almost appreciated this, it made us feel more protected. However the old School still with its old gas lamps didn't escape from two crashing planes. I will always believe the occupants still alive in those aircraft were thinking of us. The crash on January 22nd was heading straight for the School, but somehow someone lifted the plane over our roof and dropped the other side of the road within a clearing. The second plane, a B-24J crashed across the corner of Church Street and Spixworth Road destroying some property.

One night raid that seemed to go on forever did in fact go on all night for us. When we alighted from the shelter dotted about in the grass like silver baseballs we found unexploded incendiary bombs. It was then that we noticed to the right hand side the "Carter's" home was alight (it was at this time unoccupied). My Father, Mr Sexton informed the Warden, but we all knew that the fire service was stretched to breaking point, so it was man the pumps to assist. My Mother, Mrs Pointer from the farm, myself and others did our best to control the fire to the roof until the firemen arrived, by this time dawn was breaking.

In another incident when some sheds at the farm were found to be alight the cows went berserk. Mr Pointer promptly fainted! My father with great presence of mind opened the gate into a nearby field; the sound of those cows stampeding over the top of our shelter is one not to be forgotten!

As we all know this country of our's is prone to a mass of grey, dull, cloudy weather, just perfect for Luftwaffe pilots to dive bomb, but Mum was not to be deterred, she was determined to visit shops at Catton Grove by bike and this she managed without incident. Until when one day she returned home, all was still and quiet, so she went as usual to put her bicycle away in the shed at the bottom of the garden. I was looking on when, low and behold, as Mum turned the corner of the garden path, situated but a stone's throw away from the airfield runway, a plane dived out of the low cloud with rear gun blazing. Mother's bicycle went up in the air almost as though she was throwing it at them, while dashing for the shed door, slamming it firmly shut behind her. I lay on the floor in the house not knowing what to do when there was an outburst of shouting and banging from the shed. My Mother had jammed the door lock! So I had to crawl down the "hidden side" of the garden to release the shed door from the outside and retrieve my Mother who was shaking with nerves. We have often joked about the incident since, my Mother who could have been killed and then locking herself in the shed!

So near to an airfield and yet we felt quite protected, the feelings we had when the bombers left in formation and we would watch for their return and try to count the same number back in, not always a happy time. At School we were taught to sing "The Star Spangled Banner" to American visitors, including Jim Isbell (458th) and after this there was an invitation to enjoy the entertainment and dancing on Horsham St. faith's Airfield. The stage and large hall were all decorated and the tables piled high with candy and luxuries.

When the War ended the vacating of Ground staff billets left a void for while, however there were many couples waiting to be wed and hoping for a home of their own. I am sure this is where the word "squatter" originated, as many billets were confiscated as homes.

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