大象传媒

War Time Memories.

Oh what do we remember as time goes by. Many, many things that remain in our memory bank, things that have occurred and may have had great impact in our future lives. Or completely useless facts that do no one any benefit, except raise a laugh or two.

So to the wartime memories of, Jean, Joan and the younger David. The day that hostilities broke out with Germany, September 1939.
1.) OUTBREAK OF WW2. The church bell at the top of our Road rang out. Mrs. Clifford (A dedicated street fire warden), a lady who lived opposite us, went up the road, wearing a tin helmet and a gas cape and ringing a hand bell, shouting 鈥淲ar, war, war.鈥� What a hoot for Jean and David, Joan had not joined us at that time, wow we had not seen anything like this since the last Christmas pantomime at the 鈥淪hepherds Bush Empire theatre!鈥� We did not know the meaning of war, to us it was a grown up鈥檚 thing.
2.) SCHOOLING. David being 5 years of age in the August 1939 was due to start school in the September. Alas, the schools were closed due to the onset of WW2. Great stuff, then David could play around to his hearts content. Little did he realise that by being 5 years in the August he was nearly a year behind already in his education already!!! Some houses had a schoolteacher drop by to instruct in some lessons, but on a very limited basis.
(David started school a year late and then being of very limited scholary achievements was to leave school in the July 1949, thus ONLY 9 years learning. But as luck turned out, David鈥檚 father worked at E.M.I. (Then known as HMV) as a toolmaker and was able to get the help of 鈥淣epotism鈥� to get this lad an apprenticeship as a an Engineering Draughtsman 鈥� One lucky lad, when the teachers had said, 鈥淵our lot in life, will be to get a job as butcher鈥檚 boy or coal heaver etc.鈥� But I am going to quickly in the fast lane.)
3.) THE BOMBING. It was a bit like heaven in the early days of WW2 for us children, warm summer days, play, more play --------- Then the bombers came, dropping their bombs on any thing, civilian housing, factories, railways, London docks etc. What a shock that was to us. The air raid sirens wailing day and night, first the air raid warning then the all clear, warning then all clear, on and on. We did not have an Anderson shelter indoors until later in the war. What we did have was 鈥� 鈥淎n Under鈥� the stairs shelter. Heavens above it used to house us two (Then three later on) children with our parents AND next doors 3 people and another two from down the road. Us children would lie under the lower stairs, tucked in as far as possible, while the adults squatted or stood as best they could. All crammed in like sardines. Now I am somewhat of ancient years, I do think that the adults DID NOT dislike the cramped body鈥檚 situation. Rather like a party game of 鈥淪ardines !!!!鈥� This under the stairs was fairly routine for the bad air raids. Sometime we would be blown down the stairs by the bomb blasts other times, we would scurry as fast as we could. During one air raid when the German air force fire bombed London and had lit the sky up with parachuted incendiary鈥檚, our parents, took us to the window of the back bedroom and said 鈥淭his is the end of the war, tomorrow it would all be over, London is on fire, there will be nothing left.鈥� The flaming night鈥檚 sky at midnight was brighter than daylight hours, we had never seen anything like it and never have done since. BUT in the morning it was business as usual, London was still there, our parents of to work and us of to school. After one night of heavy bombing, shrapnel broke windows; the front door was 鈥渓istless鈥� etc. The 鈥淧om-poms鈥� (Anti-aircraft guns on railway wagons) running up and down the railway opposite us, popping all night. Our next-door neighbour had not surfaced so Father went in to see if all was OK. He called out to the neighbours 鈥淎re you all OK?鈥� 鈥� Silence so he repeated his question. A feeble and wavering voice answered, 鈥淏e careful Bill (My Fathers name) there is an unexploded bomb at the bottom of the stairs鈥�, my Father retorted, 鈥淭hen what the hell are you still doing in the house, under the stairs?鈥� No answer, because it was stupid to remain indoors with a bomb waiting to explode. My father investigated (Brave man or a silly man?) and the bomb turned out to be the loft trapdoor that had been blown up and then down the stairs going, bump, bump, bump. How silly the neighbours felt and the man of the house was a sergeant in the Royal Artillery !!!!!!!! Father was in a protected occupation being a toolmaker; though he tried to join up in the REME, but no go, 鈥淵ou are wanted to help the war effort at home鈥�. Mind you he had to carry out 鈥淧lane Spotting鈥� from the roofs of the HMV factory. He used to get a magazine issued once a month called 鈥淭he Plane Spotter鈥� and had outlines of German aircraft for identification purposes, very interesting for us kids. He also he joined the ARP as a warden, which meant having a 鈥淪tirrup Pump鈥� a 鈥淏ucket of Sand鈥� and a 鈥淵ard Broom and Shovel鈥�. Mother got employment as a blueprint operator at HMV to help the war effort. A job that was previously done by men prior to the war.

4.) FOOD. Food started to get scarce, rationing was brought in. Enough has been written about the meagre rations we survived on, but in mainland Europe, food was scarcer!!! Us children had a ration pot of jam each month to a magnificent amount of 4 ounces. David (The writer) used to save his ration until the last week, UNTIL somebody (Mother) started to help himself or herself to his little jam-pot full. After that malarkey he ate (Nay gobbled it up!) his as soon as possible. Made do with margarine, if there was any or dripping if there was any of that. Some of the meals, all of them were pretty damned awful. A Suet Roll, boiled in Mother鈥檚 old hose stocking (Oh my gawd), was not a very pretty sight. The make up inside the Suet Roll was, bacon rind (Father had the lean bacon, as he worked), onion and parsley. This would be served with 鈥渟ee through鈥� fawn coloured gravy. Father had a few personal likes that us children could not eat and would not eat 鈥� Tripe and onions. 鈥� Pig鈥檚 trotters. 鈥� Winkles and celery, IN WINTER !!!!!!!!! The usual weekly fare was, a piece of meat (Shoulder of lamb) cooked on Sunday. Cold Lamb on Monday, summer or winter. Lamb hash on Tuesday. Lamb bone curry on Wednesday. Soup on Thursday, made from the lamb bones of the day before, if one got the gristle with a bit of bone 鈥擸OU WERE ON a winner !!! Friday was a fish day, usually 鈥淩ock Salmon鈥� a bottom fish feeder, that folk would turn their noses up at. Saturday was catchers-catch-can day. To save on electricity in the winter we used to toast bread on the fire, if there was one, usually Sunday when the coal ration was relieved for the day. The number of times my TWO (only) slices used to fall in the cinders was untold. Then the same old cycle the following week. We once had a food parcel from America, with unbelievable goodies inside. Chewing gum, I made one piece of gum last a week AND kept the wrapper because of its aroma!! Another delight (Would be treated as an ASBO in today鈥檚 world) was to pick carrots from the allotments, wipe the dirt of and eat. We would also go 鈥渟crumping鈥� for fruit, never mind the policeman clipping our ears, or kicking our backsides, we would still 鈥渟crump鈥�. We honestly could not see any wrongdoing in picking up fruit that had dropped from the tree. Mind you, if there were none that had dropped we used to assist some to fall. Another delicacy was 鈥渕angleworzzles鈥� 鈥� sugar beet to the unwitting. If you could get them, they were filling and very WINDY. Our father for one Christmas treat made Coconut Ice, without coconuts !!!!!!!!!! HOW? With mangelwurzzles, shredded and coloured, it was fantastic, well it was during wartime. One thing about Christmas presents stands out in my memory and also my sisters, was a present that my mother and father gave to me. Looking at the size of the gift and the wrapping in brown paper was a source of envy to my sisters. THEN on the unwrapping of the 鈥済ift鈥� my spirits sagged and my sisters felt really sorry for me. The 鈥済ift鈥� was my father鈥檚 old trouser press and I wore short trousers !!!!!!!!!! Boy oh boy I must have been very bad that year.

5.) COAL and BATHING WATER. Oh dearie, dearie me, bathing was in 4 inches of water. To think of it now makes me shudder; I had to get into the bath AFTER my two sisters had been in !!!!!!!!!!! One sat in the bath with the North Wind blowing up the over spill spout, no wonder my 鈥淯ndies鈥� were not to be admired, I said to all and sundry at school P.T. (Physical Training each morning) 鈥淥h these are utility issue鈥�. No wonder this writer relishes every shower he has, be it one or two or MORE a day. We shared flannels, absolutely horrible they were. AND more than disgusting we shared toothbrushes, whether or not we had toothpaste or tooth powder. Another hard to come by product was coal or coke for the house fire. We also had a paraffin heater that in the winter was stationed at the top of the stairwell so as some heat would penetrate into the loft area to stop the water tank/water pipes etc from freezing. Of course this did not always work, so the order of the day was no washing or hot water for tea, 鈥渘ever mind of to school we go鈥�. Our store of coke was at the bottom of the garden AND a 鈥榦rrible job for this writer was to go down the garden in the pitch dark, no lights allowed, to gather the fuel. One day our Father would go and collect the fuel, as it was raining and very cold. Father returned to the room we all sat in (Called the Dining Room.) at night and every day, face as white as a sheet. Of course we all were smiling and cooing. 鈥淲hat on earth are you all smiling at? AND what is it on my neck, it feels nasty?鈥� What had happened was our cat used to sit up the tree above our coke storage area, being friendly the cat dropped down onto my father鈥檚 shoulders, A COLD, DAMP AND WERY WET CAT. No wonder Father was scared. Another time I was on coke duty (men鈥檚 work only) I had collected the fuel and was standing at the back door looking at the sky and the stars. Father was watch repairing, he used to supplement his wages with a bit of homework. I shouted out, 鈥淐ome quickly, look at that, a shooting star!鈥� then 鈥淏OOooooooooooooOOOOOOOOM鈥�, my shooting star was a V2 rocket. Scared me witless, the watch that Father was mending flew up in the air from his hands. WE all had to look for the bits and pieces. Father was not amused as his language was very 鈥渃olourful鈥�
6.) ODDS and ENDS Well one has to end a tale at some time so I will round of with a few bits and bob鈥檚. One day a German aircraft was shot down very near our house. The plane was a Heinkel or something like that, but it was a bomber. The powers that be decided that the aircraft would be put on show (bolstering the peoples spirits I suppose.) on the local parkland, Botwell Green to be exact. Which was the lad鈥檚 football/cricket/rounder鈥檚 play area, now a swimming pool !!! The German aircraft was circled by Hessian wrapping, so as create an enclosure where one had to pay to get up close to the plane. The entrance cost was one old penny for children. That was my liquorice stick gone for the week. One got to sit in the gunner鈥檚 seat, a sort of swing seat made of leather and hands on the guns, looking through a Perspex bubble and making 鈥済un noises鈥�. Oh the number of us boys who wished 鈥渨e were flyers, we would win the war鈥�. Food was always on our minds, well boys did get very hungry or so it seems. My father during one of his rash moments decided to make some sweets for us children and it was coconut ice! Of course coconuts were not to be found anywhere and the only ones us kids had seen were in books. So father got hold of 鈥渕angelwurzels鈥� (a sort of sugar beet that was fed to cattle.), he grated them up, added food dye to give one lot a pink colour and then another dye to get white. Where the sugar came from I do not know, but he put the mixtures in a loaf tin, cooked them and boy oh boy were they good. He must have used something that was very hard to get, because he never made them again. But having tasted the mangelwurzels us kids were not averse to gnawing them when we got the chance. These 鈥渓iberated鈥� bits of food along with 鈥渞escued鈥� potatoes were taken to our camps, located in the fields (actually bombed out houses) just up the road from our house. There we would make fires and cook (very raw) the potatoes, toast bread crusts and fill our stomachs. Oh the stomach pains later on from the raw cooking, but at least we knew we had eaten and how. The fires were very tough to get going because any newspaper was hoarded at home for the home fires. Also for the use as toilet tissue, oh dear not a pleasant experience. We would use anything we could; we even tried burning the silver backed paper, dropped by aircraft to confuse the radar detectors. Did not burn though. As I said the newspaper was used to light fires and my father used to wrap up any potato skins, cabbage discarded leaves, dampen them and put them on the fire. That would smell like anything but it used to give out some heat. Looking back on the discarding of potato skins and the cabbage leaves, why did they throw them away? When nowadays it is deemed good food and I would have thought that 鈥淭he British Restaurant Cooks鈥� such as Margaret Paten would have thought some recipe to eat such 鈥済oodies鈥�. One big visual thing missing from my war years as a child --- was ----- COLOUR. Why and how I do not know, but everything was drab and unexciting. The one bit of colour I do remember, which affected my purchasing motorcars in later years, was in a tram/trolley bus yard at Hayes End. The yard had huge wooden doors with 鈥渃hinks鈥� in them so that one could spy in. There were under wraps, well nearly under, was a collection of 鈥淏umper Cars鈥�, from a fair, probably Billy Smarts. Lay up for the war years. The colours of the cars, the rounded shapes were an eye opener for me. Every chance I got I would try to go past that garage to wet my appetite. As I said, in my later years, those views of the bumper cars and their vivid colours pushed me in the direction of --------- 鈥淰OLKSWAGEN鈥� --------- Incredible that the WW2 was started by Germany (Or so we are told), putting paid to the lot of travelling fairs and the 鈥淏umper Cars鈥�, made my senses like the shape and colours, thus my direction of cars was to purchase 鈥淰OLKSWAGEN BEETLES鈥� - HITLERS PEOPLES CAR. So here am I long past WW2 war years, assisting the recovery of Germany. Why oh why do we have wars? When after the dust has settled, the 鈥渧ictors鈥� (?) then set about rebuilding the countries that were devastated by them themselves during the war years! All those lives lost, years of hardship by millions, young men who were the cream and future of all, imprisoned, killed, murdered. The innocent women and children killed in bombing raids. Families utterly ripped apart, for what, some jumped up nobody who thinks they have the right to do these terrible things.

IT BRINGS TO MIND THE PRESENT DAY, 2004/ 5 CONFLICT BEING FOUGHT IN IRAQ.

THOUSANDS OF INNOCENT IRAQI PEOPLE, SLAIN BY THEIR OWN COUNTRYMEN, AND BY THE INVADERS.

THE INVADERS THEMSELVES BEING KILLED, SLAIN BY THE HOSTILE IRAQI鈥橲. ALL IN THE NAME OF OIL, THE RELIGIOUS SECTS AND THE INTRANSIGENT POLITICIANS.

HUNDREDS OF INNOCENT PEOPLE IN THE INVADERS HOMELAND BEING KILLED AND MAIMED.

WHEN WILL WE EVER LEARN?

SO IT GOES ON, IN TIME MORE CHILDRENS STORIES WILL EMERGE FROM THE CONFLICT, MAYBE JUST LIKE THE ONE ABOVE.

WRITTEN BY: DAVID MARK POWELL (with the kind permission of his sisters)

Location of WW2 memories is HAYES, MIDDLESEX (WEST LONDON)

PRESENT WRITERS ADDRESS: CORNLEE GUEST HOUSE, AYSGARTH, LEYBURN. NORTH YORKSHIRE. DL8 3AE.

e-mail: cornlee.aysgarth@btinternet.com

web-site: www.cornlee.co.uk

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