大象传媒

The outbreak of World War Two came when I was living in Bournemouth, aged 19, at home with my parents. I was studying at the Art School and College at the Lansdown with the object of taking the examinations of the Royal Institute of British Architects.

I had been keeping company with my girl friend Gwen, who later became my wife, for about two years. We were in the habit of going to a cinema together on Saturday nights and meeting on Sunday mornings to go cycling in the country.

On that fateful Sunday in September 1939, we waited to hear Neville Chamberlain's annoucement that we were at war before setting off on our usual ride. Like everyone else, we had been expecting the war for a long time, but it was still a sobering experience to realise that it had now really begun. Just what lay ahead was unknown and what we had been told of our father's experiences in the First World War was daunting to say the least.

Instead of planning one of our usual trips of 50-60 miles, we decided to go no further than Badbury Rings and back. There were very few cars or people about, although it was not a bad day from the weather point of view. The general atmosphere was one of foreboding.

During the "phoney war" period we tried to carry on with our lives as near normal as possible, while at the same time getting used to the blackout and rationing.

Early in May 1940 I was able to sit for the intermediate exams of the RIBA. These were normally in London but because of the possibility of air raids, were also being held at a number of regional centres. Hence I travelled by Royal Blue coach to Plymouth.

The day after I returned home to Bournemouth I registered for military service as my 20th birthday had just passed. Men were required to register for service each month as another age group was enlisted, together with those who had reached the age of 20 in the last month. I registered along with the 27 year olds; not until later in the war was the age limit lowered to 18.

The weeks that followed saw the war become a much more serious affair. The evacuation from Dunkirk and the collapse of France was a shocking blow. My parents house in Ophir Road where I lived was adjoining Portchester Road school, this being the senior section of Bournemouth School for Boys. The school was immediately taken over in June 1940 as temporary accommodation for French soldiers who had beeen evacuated from France and arrived by train from ports in Sussex and Kent. They tended to stay for about seven to ten days before moving on. I understood that they were given the option of joining the Free French Army then being formed under General de Gaulle.

By July 1940 I was expecting the post each morning to deliver my calling up papers, but they had not yet arrived. The weather was glorious and, with a view to making the most of such opportunities as were left, Gwen and I decided to cycle to the Purbeck Hills.

We were enjoying our picnic on the top of Creech Hill, along with a two other couples, when we became aware of a distant droneing noise out over the Channel. The noise got louder and we saw a flight of about 25-30 German bombers with accompanying fighters heading straight towards us. They were flying in a formation arranged in tiers, with each row abreast being followed by another row at a higher level. The fighters were at the highest level at the rear; I estimated the leading bombers to be no more than 1,000 to 3,000 feet above. For the first time in my life I was really scared.

Mindful of the way Germans had machine gunned French refugees on the ground just weeks before, we did our best to merge with the hedges and bushes. We covered our cycles with our jackets to prevent the chrome parts reflecting in the sunshine.

As the planes were passing directly overhead there was suddenly the sound of machine guns. The German formation was breaking up as it was being attacked by RAF Spitfires and Hurricanes. The aerial battle lasted some 15-20 minutes. There was the sound of bombs exploding further inland and to the west of us. We guessed they were attacking the aerodrome at Warmwell where we believed a squadron of Blenheim's were stationed. It is possible that Portland may also have been attacked.

We saw four German planes shot down as well as two of our fighters. One of the fighters plunged into the sea, somewhere between Lulworth Cove and Ringstead Bay. Two of the German bombers came down vertically further inland with a great explosion. Then we saw a Heinkel coming slowly down at a low angle. As we watched, three of its crew parachuted to earth. The plane hit the ground in a wood at the foot of Creech Hill, on the opposite side of the road from Creech Grange. There was another big explosion with sheets of flame and black smoke. A Spitfire appeared to confirm his kill, doing a victory roll before disappearing westward to join what was left of the aerial battle.

Shortly afterwards an army 15cwt. truck came
alongside us and the officer in charge asked if we had seen any German parachutists. We were able to point to the fields in which we had seen them land below us. Feeling somewhat relieved after all the tension, we made our way to view the wreckage. Some of the debris was still burning and a civilian policeman told us not to approach any closer as some ammunition was still going off.

August came and went with daily accounts of planes lost on both sides in the Battle of Britain. Still no sign of my call-up papers though. Perhaps the army was too busy re-organising to equip and train any further recruits that month. Gwen, however, had joined the Women's Land Army and been posted to Hitchin in Bedfordshire. Some good news was that I had passed my RIBA intermediate exams in all but one subject. That subject, and my subsequent studies for the final exam, would have to wait until the war ended.

[Continued in "Searchlights in Southern England"]

(PK)

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