大象传媒

My thoughts of the war always invoke memories of noise. The bombs, ack-ack guns, the bombers droning over on their way to Germany every night and back in the early hours of the morning and the occasional fighter planes in aerial dog-fights during daylight hours. Pleasanter sounds were the American military band and bugle calls from the camp at the end of our road and the British bands in the town centre.
Watford was not a specific target for bombs but we received our fair share during the early part of the war and we could see and hear the bombing of London when the whole night sky was lit by the burning of the docklands and the flashes of the guns.

I think it was 1941 when my mother and I went to visit her sister in Coventry to give us a respite from the constant sleepless nights in Watford and a chance to sleep in beds instead of under the stairs. But......that very day Hitler turned his attention to Coventry instead of London and we had landed in a far worse situation than we had left!

The noise was deafening all night long as thousands of pounds of high explosive flattened the city. Even though all our windows were shut and the blackout curtains closed the acrid smell of the smoke screen penetrated through to the living room where my small cousin and I lay under the Morrison shelter. There wasn't a hope of sleeping and at ten years old I was desperately praying for the noise to stop so I could go to sleep. I remember the anxious, worried faces of my mother and aunt in the dim light but surprisingly I wasn't frightened. I knew we might be killed any minute but the fact that hundreds of people actually were being killed around us didn't impinge on my mind at the time.

In the morning my mother and her sister were still looking very strained and white but with the resilience of childhood I felt quite bright and suggested that we go out and have look round. I shall never forget the shocked look on both their faces as they said, 'OH, NO!'

How many nights we endured this I can't remember but I think we soon returned to the comparative peace of Watford. My cousin remembers being taken out some days later to see the ruins of Coventry Cathedral but I didn't see it until some years later.

In our short cul-de-sac in Watford we children were formed into the Berceau Brigade by some of the older boys. We were a very disciplined fighting force, marching, presenting arms (sticks)etc under our Major, Captain and Lance Corporal. We took it very seriously and were determined that if Hitler appeared at the end of our road he would get no further!

I could write more of my own experiences but I also have a collection of memories written by 'our year' at the Grammar School, 1939-1948 telling of the war years at school. If you would like to receive this please let me know. I would need to get permission from the other ladies first and I would like to send it as an attachment rather than re-typing it if possible?

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