大象传媒

We were a close knit family of seven at the time with our parents striving to make ends meet doing their level best to feed and clothe their five children. It was to this end that just a couple of months prior to that dreadful January night of terror, my uncle Jim, fearing for the safety of his family owing to the worsening of the bombing, decided to move them lock, stock and barrel down to Exeter, in Devon., to share his sister鈥檚 house. This act on his part, together with negotiations by both parties through the city鈥檚 Housing Dept. enabled our family to move from a very much smaller house in Marylebone St, into uncle Jim鈥檚 larger house in Mary鈥檚 St, thus providing us with the extra space urgently required.
Little did we know then that the move would be disastrous for both families. Exeter was later heavily bombed making it a case of jumping out of the frying pan as far as uncle Jim was concerned and for my family it would prove to be hugely significant.
So there was I, little George, 4 years old this very day sitting in my rightful place for one meal only, at the head of the table. Dad returned, took his place and mum rightly declared:
鈥淣ow we can begin鈥�. Everyone smiled and felt so happy as jelly and custard were served followed by sandwiches and homemade cakes being passed round. Mum poured orange squash from a large jug into paper cups so that we could wet our whistles. Although I enjoyed cakes and sandwiches, I couldn鈥檛 take my eyes off the big iced cake with candles standing up.
鈥榃hen can I blow out the candles mum鈥�, I said repeatedly. 鈥淭here鈥檚 plenty of time yet George, just wait until everyone is finished, there鈥檚 a good boy鈥�. I suppose I was growing impatient again. Then what four year old wouldn鈥檛 become impatient when there were four candles waiting to be lit? Everyone could see this lovely cake was dying to be eaten. It just seemed along time waiting for others to finish.
Dad stood up to address the family and perhaps praise me for being a good little boy etc, etc, but before he could utter one word the horrible siren went off. It was the air raid warning of enemy planes approaching again. A shrill sound that strikes fear into everyone. I鈥檇 heard it many times before and now realised it would be followed by loud bangs and noises.
鈥淨uickly!鈥� called mum. Go and get your warm coats on we must go into the shelter as soon as possible. 鈥淏ut it鈥檚 cold out there鈥�, cried Thomas. 鈥淒o as your mother tells you Tommy and be quick about it鈥�, ordered dad.
We huddled together in the Anderson shelter and soon the drone of bomber engines could be heard overhead. Crossing our fingers and holding our breath we prayed their murderous weapons would fall somewhere else. My party had been ruined. My cake was still on the table waiting to be lit. What sought of person drops bombs on a four year old鈥檚 party? My dog Ruff was left behind in the house and I feared for his life. Poor Ruff I thought, he鈥檚 all alone.
As the planes passed over in their droves, whistling bombs came raining down everywhere. Incendiary bombs were also being dropped in their hundreds to create fire damage. Huge explosions were going off all over the city and one large one rocked our shelter when it landed just down the street. By now dad was restless and decided to go looking for information about the severity of the raid. He nipped smartly away with mum鈥檚 best wishes for a safe return.
William the baby was now awake. Even he couldn鈥檛 sleep through the big bangs and noisy whistling of the bombs. But he would need a bottle of milk made up and to do that required mum going back into the house risking her life. Dad came back and broke the news that the explosion we heard and felt when falling nearby, had put paid to the water mains. The house was off water completely.
鈥淥h god! What shall I do Tom? William needs some milk quickly!鈥� 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry gal. I鈥檒l check the tap again鈥�. 鈥淚鈥檒l come with you, the children will be safe enough鈥�. Dad came back to the shelter a few minutes later. 鈥淵our poor mother is standing at the butler sink with a saucepan catching drips of water to make Billy鈥檚 bottle. She鈥檚 doing her best god love her but it will take time to get enough water鈥�.
鈥淒ad will you go and get Ruff and my birthday cake please?鈥� I asked timidly.
Dad ruffled my hair and disappeared into the night darkness once more. It was getting cold in the shelter now although we did have some blankets over our legs. When a cluster of fire bombs burst above the houses next road over, it lit the whole sky up just like daytime but the sky was red and not blue.
We saw a torch light and heard voices heading towards us and was jolly well relieved when mum climbed into the little shelter holding William鈥檚 bottle of milk, followed by dad carrying Ruff but no sign of my birthday cake: Like most four year olds being robbed of the chance to blow out my candles was too much to bear and so I became very tearful. Dad consoled me as best he could and said he did try to salvage the cake but the large explosion which rocked the houses had brought part of the parlour ceiling down onto the floor. Dust had blanketed the table contaminating everything on it. Then from his pocket dad pulled out a paper bag containing two fairy cakes and one candle. After sticking the candle into one of the cakes, we huddled round once more as he lit it with a match. The little bright light shone like a beacon of hope inside the shelter raising our morale no end and then the family sung happy birthday to me. Neighbours must have thought we were potty when I insisted because it was my fourth birthday and having only one candle, I felt cheated unless doing it four times. It was their idea to sing the song four times not mine.
The air raid went on and on. Loud bells ringing as fire engines dashed about everywhere. It was definitely becoming much worse. Dad went on walkabout once more and hoped to consult with someone in authority who could advise him what to do about the family鈥檚 safety. Apparently, a police officer and one of the many A.R.Ps Air Raid Personnel wandering around, insisted dad fetch us all to the large concrete shelter in Arundel St. The brave ARP man assisted the family out of the Anderson, through the house and into the street. By now, incendiary bombs were falling thick and fast making it almost impossible to dodge them. Sister Dorothy became so frightened and hysterical because of the bangs and flares she just took off across Mary St screaming. The warden chased after her and when about to apprehend Dorothy in the middle of the street, a huge incendiary fireball fell just behind them in the road. We thought they had both perished, but somehow the gallant ARP had swept my sister up into his arms, then diving towards the brick wall of the houses opposite shielding her little body from the danger thus putting his own life seriously at risk. Dad couldn鈥檛 praise the gentleman enough and thanked him for saving his daughter from serious burns or even death. The quiet ARP made sure Dorothy was unarmed and just melted away in the darkness.
When about to cross over Arundel St, we noticed Timothy White鈥檚 Ironmongery store next door to the shelter had been struck. Fire bombs penetrated the partly glazed roof and flames some forty foot high were leaping skywards sending up great waves of red sparks into the night sky. There didn鈥檛 appear to be any fire apparatus being used at that time to bring the fire under control and consequently doubts about going into the shelter with that dangerous building likely to collapse on top of it, grew very rapidly in peoples mind鈥檚 leading to several families vacating the shelter. Dashing out into the street with children in tow, exposed them to all manner of danger when trying to find refuge somewhere else. It was a great relief to us all when finally reaching our destination. At the entrance of the shelter, stood two more police officers and another ARP man. They ushered us inside where another policeman told us to pass right along to the far end. The lights were very dim inside the shelter making it almost impossible to see: We held on tightly to the person in front for fear of loosing mum and dad. Children and very young babies were crying either through shock or the want of a feed. One mum had used her initiative by bringing a small primus stove, saucepan and a bottle of water to heat up babies milk. That piece of apparatus did the rounds until a police officer spotted it and needless to say confiscated it immediately deeming it a danger to everyone鈥檚 already precarious safety.
As time wore on and the shelter filled up it became stuffy and very warm. Condensation formed very quickly on the concrete walls and ceilings. Next thing we felt were huge drops of water dripping down all over us. 鈥淚鈥檓 getting wet mum鈥� I cried. 鈥淪orry Georgie, there鈥檚 just no room to move anywhere else. Put your coat over your head, that鈥檒l keep it dry鈥�. We tried sleeping in a standing position because by now we were very tired indeed. But; just as slumber was about to grab us another huge explosion made us all jump out of our skins. Someone asked the time and a voice shouted: 鈥淭wenty past eleven鈥�; and still the bombers came and went after doing their worst.
How I wished we could be tucked up in bed right now. It seemed like it might all be fun when it started but I鈥檇 willingly trade in my dog Ruff for all of this to stop and let us all go home to our own beds, I鈥檓 so tired.
Not long after that original tin a lady came in with a story of some drunken old gentleman causing panic and aggravation outside the shelter. Police had arrested him and quickly dispatched him to one of HRH cells at the nearest police station for the night. Several days later, mum found out from one of her sisters that it was their father, our grandad Joe Ware, a burly carter who delivered meat locally. His attempt to enter the shelter when in a drunken state and for persistently inciting people to leave the shelter or be burnt alive because of the burning store next door was thwarted by the law. Little did grandad know, that while he was out boozing, his house in Belgrave St, had sufferered terrible damage when a bomb landed on the house next door raising it to the ground.
His wife Eliza was walking through the main passage at the time of the explosion occurring. The blast ripped the front door off its hinges, hurling it up the passage to where his wife had already been thrown to the floor in a semi conscious state. Has luck would have it, the door fell on top of her just before the parlour wall collapsed burying her completely. For nearly two days she lay under that door unable to move and with very little energy to cry out for help as rescuers walked over the rubble looking for any sign of life. She was found when Civil Defence Volunteers saw her ginger cat Sam scratching away at the rubble desperately trying to find his mistress. After shooing the cat away for the umpteenth time, a worker investigated more closely and heard the weak cries of Eliza. A happy ending saw her extricated by the relief party then whisked off to hospital where she recovered from shock, a broken leg and severe bruising. Grandad Joe, thinking he had lost his wife, was the happiest man in Portsmouth and vowed never to leave his dear Eliza alone during a raid again.
How nice and quiet it was next morning when the bangs and sirens were at last silent. Smoke filled the nostrils as the gutted remains of TWS smouldered on. Rubble was strewn everywhere as we picked our way back over Arundel St to go home. Going down Mary St, we were stopped by another police officer: 鈥淚鈥檓 afraid you can鈥檛 go any further Sir, there are unsafe houses on both sides of the street just waiting to fall down鈥�, he warned. 鈥淏ut we live near the bottom end constable鈥�, said dad: 鈥淣ot anymore you don鈥檛. I鈥檓 sorry, but the last three houses, believe m, are inhabitable. They鈥檙e wrecked completely by fire damage. You can take yourself down there and have a quick look see But, don鈥檛 venture in, it鈥檚 too dangerous鈥�. 鈥淩ight I鈥檒l do that officer and much obliged to you鈥�, said dad.
He set off down the street with one aim in mind: If there was any chance of saving something he would be in the house like a shot danger or no danger. When he reached the house, just like the constable had said, the dwellings were in bad shape. Nevertheless, dad wanted to checkout the property for himself and going against the officer鈥檚 advice entered the badly damaged house. The most important thing to mum he discovered was baby Williams鈥檚 pram which because it had been left outside at the back of the house, had escaped the falling debris and remained intact. A few bits of clothing was also found as well so he put them into the pram, then pulled it over rubble and charred pieces of timber and eventually out into the street. Whilst coming from the scullery through the parlour, dad noticed my cake still on the table, alas, it had been squashed by a large lump of ceiling plaster. He never told me of course but mum did years later when talking about those times.
The police officer wanted to know where dad found the pram on his return and seemed like he was going to give him a roasting for ignoring his previous warning. With mum and sister June now both crying because she had lost her bridesmaids dress, the officer showed a great deal of compassion by forgetting the incident He then sent us back to the shelter where a mobile canteen had arrived with hot food and drink. Later that morning, several Royal Navy lorries came to pick up the homeless and transport them to the huge public shelter that had been carved out of the chalk under Portsdown Hill.

Entered by Petersfield Library

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