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1944 saw the American GI’s billeted at the Leicester Racecourse prior to D Day and through the generosity of the ‘Yanks’, chewing gum and Camel and Lucky Strike cigarettes became freely available as gifts to the children of South Knighton. When our parents were not around, local kids of all sorts of ages, felt it appropriate, to swagger around in front of the GI’s with a fag dangling from their mouths, chewing gum, since that was what Hollywood had convinced us Americans did. The presence of the GI’s, and their well publicised generosity attracted young women (and some not so young), from all over the City and some of the antics we did see gave us an insight into the facts of life long before our due time. It did provide mirth and amusement for all of us and our tree climbing skills very often gave us privileged sights of frolics we should not be witnessing. We were allowed to clamber in and out of Jeeps, Lorries and other motor vehicles which were being serviced at the South Knighton Garage, about 60 yards from where we lived. The Yanks didn’t seem to mind a bit. The only time we were terrified was after we had climbed a fence to get into the racecourse near the Grandstand. My friend and I had entered to collect stamps from the various envelopes the GI’s had discarded to add to our stamp collection. A sharp voice from behind asked us to put our hands up and it was two American MP’s with rifles. We died a thousand deaths and were marched to a makeshift guardhouse. Fortunately their demeanour softened, they had had their fun. They plied us with chocolate, chewing gum and a few cigarettes and sent us on our way. Looking back I do realise that many of these young men were to perish shortly in the D Day landings and what was to follow.

One sight that I will never forget was looking into the sky from my Granny’s back garden, and from horizon to horizon there were planes, and planes with gliders. I do not know whether it was the start of D Day in 1944 or the grand plan for the airdrop at Arnhem but it was one of the most impressive sights I have ever seen. What macabre creatures kids were. Again it must have been around 1944 when one of my friends and I saw an aircraft, clearly in trouble with smoke coming from its tail, and going to crash, sweep over us and come down somewhere to the North East. We heard the explosion as it crashed and made our way, post-haste, to where smoke was rising. We soon arrived at the Dovedale Road/Freemantle Road crossroads to find many other people had also arrived, including my brother David. A couple of houses in ruin and bits of the plane and the Pilot’s body parts all around. Dave, being curious, picked up a body part and was promptly clipped round the ear by a Policeman and the part removed. A number of people died in the houses along with the Pilot. By the shape of the wings we thought the plane to be a Spitfire but my brother told me it was a USAAF P47 Thunderbolt.

I believe it must have been in either 1944 or 1945, but I know it was May, when we had one of most spectacular and lengthy thunderstorms I can ever remember. It was, of course, Double Summertime, and quite late in the evening, when to the South we could see the Cumulus clouds building up and all our neighbours were out at the front watching this quite dramatic amassing of cloud. The rays of the sun, still comparatively high as it moved towards its North West setting, shone on the clouds framing the edges in yellow-white luminescence. The air was so still, humid and oppressive, and the dark grey underbelly of the clouds, which by now stretched all the way along the southern horizon, swept up to the bright edges imperceptibly changing colour from deep purple to orange as it reached higher but the whole steeped in an eerie copper glow. ‘We are going to cop it tonight’ said one of our neighbours, ‘it’s coming up from France so the forecasters say’. As dusk fell the storm was upon us, the lightning and thunder quite awesome, and we spent a long time watching the storm from our bedroom window with wonder and in my case I have to admit with a certain amount of fear. The storm waxed and waned but it was still proceeding when we eventually fell asleep. It was still continuing in the morning when we awoke but by 9am it had gone, it was sunny and the air was fresh. I do remember the headlines of one of the papers which exclaimed ‘The Storm that kept half Britain awake.’

1945 arrived and in February David was asked if he would like to have an evening paper round by a shop down the road who had just taken the rounds over. It would be 5 shillings a week. Although I was only 9 going on 10 I asked if I could also have one and to my surprise and pleasure he said I could. Mum and Dad were eventually agreeable, on two conditions, that out of the 5 shillings we would have to save, without exception, each week, half a crown (two shillings and sixpence), and secondly I would have to give it up ‘if the school inspector reported me.’ This worked fine for all concerned and this gave us the remaining half a crown to spend on what we liked, when we liked and was probably our first taste of financial independence, Later the only other evening paper boy working for the shop other than Dave and I was dismissed for some misdemeanour and we took on half of his round each and this gave us Seven and Sixpence a week — A fortune we thought. I remember talking to Dave at this time about money and saying ‘Who do you think earns the most money in this country.’ Dave thought for a moment and decided it must be Winston Churchill. ‘How much do you think that would be I asked?’ ‘Umm said Dave it’s got to be £20 quid a week!!’ Around this time one of my friends and I decided it would be fun to help the Milkman during holidays. Our Milkman was a very kind sort of person and we genuinely did help him, even to the point of collecting money (or Milk Checks as it was the Co-op Milk) from customers. It was illuminating in one respect: the returned milk bottles were usually washed out as a matter of hygiene by the customer prior to return and in the case of about 90% of customers this was done. However, almost exclusively the incidence of unwashed returned bottles came from the more affluent areas of the Milkman’s round. We eventually blotted our copy book when we thought it might be a good idea, whilst the Milkman was having a cup of tea with a customer, if we drove the electric float up to the junction of Goldhill Road and South Knighton Road, turn it round and drive back down Goldhill Road so it would be facing the other way when he returned in readiness for his next customer. It was not one of our better ideas!

VE Day came and there was much excitement. Out came our paints and a brick near the reveal of our back door was painted by David and I with bright vertical stripes to commemorate the day. We didn’t seem to consider that being water colours it was unlikely to last long. Actually, against all expectations, it kept its individuality for many years after, and was still visible in the 1970’s, albeit very faded and only apparent if you knew where to look. The adults of the neighbourhood, in common with many throughout the country, set about organising a street party for their particular road, primarily for the children. People were very generous and it was amazing what neighbours, with or without children of their own, were able to find from their tight rations. It was a real feast, with a bonfire built in the middle of the road. Trestles were obtained from various sources with tablecloths disguising their various shapes and conditions. Exotic fruits such as oranges, pineapples, and bananas appeared together with goodies we had not seen or tasted for years. Refreshing drinks, cakes, jellies materialized at the scene and a piano rolled out into the street for music and singsongs later in the evening. It is fair to say that it was a ‘right good knees up.’ Our Mum and Dad had been one of a small band of organisers locally and it was through them we learnt of the kindness and generosity of many of the locals. We did have a conscience, however, in that some of the most generous donations came from people we always thought of as ‘grumpy old people’ who did not like kids much. We saw them in a different light from that time on.

There was a general relaxation of tensions from May but this was tempered with the knowledge of the atrocities being uncovered in Germany and the continuing atrocities our Far Eastern Troops were suffering at the hands of the Japanese. Haunting pictures in the newspapers of skeletal figures in Belsen, and the wickedness which had taken place at Auschwitz, Buchenwald, Dachau and other death camps was being reported, and it came with great relief when VJ Day arrived in August. Even that was dampened when we looked at pictures of the tragedy of the Allied Troops in the Far East and their appalling treatment as POW’s. The photographs showing the ruins of Horoshima and Nagasaki, the total devastation, the mutilated bodies littering the streets, made even us, as very young and naive people, contemplate the human condition, and the wickedness man will inflict on his fellow man or indeed on his fellow creatures, in pursuit of his ideologies, greed and power. What has changed in 2005?

VJ Day was marked with street parties, but somehow, although successful, they were embarked upon with far less enthusiasm.

Gerald (Gerry) M Salmon
Uppingham
2005/6

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