大象传媒

ON THE DAY THAT WAR WAS DECLARED; PART 1 (OF 4)

On the day that war was declared, September 3rd 1939, I was 12 years old and can clearly remember sitting with my parents that morning listening to the Prime Minister, Mr Neville Chamberlain, making his announcement on the 鈥榳ireless鈥� (we didn鈥檛 call it a 鈥渞adio鈥� in those days) that war had been declared; 鈥淚 have to tell you now that this country is at war with Germany鈥�.

Two hours later I was taken by my parents to school (it was on a Sunday) where, in the road outside, a fleet of double decker Corporation buses were lined up ready to evacuate children out to the country.

The earlier signs of war at school had appeared about a week before when the Government had declared a General Mobilisation and two of our teachers came to say their farewells dressed in Officers uniforms, they were in the Territorial Army and had been ordered to report for duty. I discovered later that Captain Cookson was killed in France and Captain (later Lieutenant-Colonel) Keens was wounded and captured at Dunkirk in 1940.

For my evacuation I reported carrying a suitcase, a small one, with my clothes, a bag with some, mainly tinned, food and, of course my gas mask. It was already a law of the land that everyone had to carry this at all times, for grownups it was a punishable offence not to. The bus I was on finally, after calling at other villages, deposited me and a few of my schoolmates at a village called Harbury in South Warwickshire, about 5-6 miles south of Leamington Spa.

I must be honest, I just never settled with the farm workers family I was billeted with, and that was not their fault. I was an only child and had led a sheltered life at home 鈥渕ammy licked鈥� we used to call it, and I was so homesick that a few weeks later my parents fetched me back home. At that time and up till May 1940 was the time of the 鈥淧honey War鈥� 鈥� nothing happened, no air raids, no fighting in France, nothing! Back in Coventry life was great, the schools were closed and it was one great holiday 鈥� but it didn鈥檛 last! Well before Christmas the schools were open again.

Signs of war were everywhere. Barrage Balloons were flying over the town. There was one on Gosford Green just down the road from our street. They were quite large with three fins at the back to keep them stable and were attached to a winch lorry by a metal cable. Every evening they were winched out to a height of 5,000-10,000ft and if there was a day- time alert they were run out in a hurry. The idea was that the cables would deter enemy bombers from flying too low, their bomb aiming made difficult. It was a lovely sight on a clear evening to see these small silver dots in the sky glistening in the sunlight high above the town.

Many of the parks had great trenches dug in them, shored up with huge baulks of timber roofed over with timber beams and corrugated iron and covered with the excavated soil to form air-raid shelters. Brick built blast shelters were built in many of the streets, rectangular structures with walls about 18 inches thick and a thick concrete roof on top to offer some protection for people living in nearby houses.

My father applied for and got an Anderson shelter, which was dug into our back garden. This consisted of six sheets of corrugated steel, curved over at the top. Erected it stood about 6ft (2m) high. A hole, 3 feet deep was dug in the garden and the six sheets, three on either side, were erected in the hole and bolted together. Flat sections formed the back of the shelter. A similar erection at the front had one shorter section in the middle leaving a hole, which formed an entrance hole; the excavated soil was thrown over the shelter to provide extra protection. Provided you didn鈥檛 get a direct hit with a bomb, you had a chance!! (See 鈥� Air Raid Precautions in your Home. 393).

That winter, of course, it flooded! Workmen came back from the council and converted up to ground level with a concrete floor we were dry again! The shelters were named after Sir John Anderson, Minister in charge of Air Raid Precautions before the war. He was Home secretary actually.

Anderson shelters used a lot of high grade steel, desperately needed for war weapons, tanks, guns, ships and armoured cars so they were superseded by the 鈥淢orrison鈥� shelters, named after Herbert Morrison who became Home Secretary in 1940. The Morrison was, in effect, a steel table, which was erected inside the house and used as a table during the day. It had a sheet steel top on low strong steel legs; at night you put a mattress under it, on the floor, and went to bed; the open sides between the four legs were filled in by sheets of strong steel mesh, clipped to the legs. The final section was clipped into place when you were inside. Providing that your house didn鈥檛 have a direct hit you stood a chance. If a near miss collapsed your house on top of you lay there under the rubble until the rescue services dug you out 鈥� honest!!

Near where we lived, at the back of a row of shops facing Walsgrave Road, stood a large, separate storeroom, brick built. The ground floor was a large garage with two large wooden doors opening out onto Marlborough Road and a large room upstairs. It stood opposite my grandparents鈥� greengrocers shop and granddad once rented it to keep his car in. This building was requisitioned by the council and turned into an Auxiliary Fire Station. The lower walls were sandbagged over. A small Coventry Climax fire pump and a towing lorry were installed on the ground floor and upstairs converted into a rest room for the crew. The Auxiliary Fire Service was a volunteer organisation. The firemen did their normal job during the day in factories or whatever and manned and slept at the station at nights. They would often be men in 鈥淩eserved Occupations鈥� ; skilled workers who were excused conscription into the armed services and 鈥渆xpected鈥� to do volunteer duties instead.

The butcher at the top of our street, Fred Pinks, was initially conscripted into the army soon after the outbreak of war, leaving his wife with two small children to run the shop; an impossibility. Us locals, of course, had to be fed and Fred was discharged from the army to run his shop on the understanding that he did something else. So he joined the AFS at this station, working his shop during the day and sleeping at the station when his shift was on duty; when the air raids started he didn鈥檛 get much sleep of course. Life was hard. He eventually became Station Officer.

Then, of course there was the blackout when the war started. All the street lights were switched off and every house, factory, shops and all had to ensure that no light was showing from the premises after dark. We fitted heavy curtains across the bedroom windows and the front room downstairs. Dad made some light plywood shutters, which slotted into place over the living room and kitchen windows downstairs. You had to put the light on before you went outside. If you didn鈥檛 you were likely to get a shout from a patrolling Air Raid Ward 鈥淧ut that light out鈥�! Factory roofs were painted over and windows could not be opened. Conditions at night in factories would get more than stuffy. Conditions on the streets during the blackout were quite difficult of course. On dark, moonless nights you literally could not see where you were going. The first inkling of a street light, telephone pole or letter box was that you bumped into it! Car headlights had to be fitted with a mask with three small slits to let the light out and even this was deflected downwards and the number of accidents and road casualties soared, even allowing for the small number of vehicles on the road (petrol was rationed). It was better to sit at home and listen to the 鈥渨ireless鈥�; (we had no TV then of course).

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