大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Karen Sussex from Westree Learning Centre and has been added to the website on behalf of Eric Whayman with his permission and they fully understand the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

The life of a child in Wartime - Eric 1936 to 1946
There were happy times and sad times during the first years of my life and this short story tells how, between the years of six and sixteen, my school days were interrupted several times.
My father was serving in the 5th Battalion. Suffolk Regiment and we were continually moving from one place to another, this was great fun but not really understanding how important education was for my future.
We travelled to Malta and back and moved house continually, when we returned to the UK in August 1939.
My father served with the BEF and fought in France and Belgium in 1939/40, and he was evacuated from Dunkirk but tragically lost his life, at the fall of Singapore on February 6th 1942. Those servicemen, who survived the fall of Singapore, were to become prisoners of war and memories of Changi Jail and the building of the Burma Railway under intolerable conditions, remain a part of powerful history.
Many men did not survive this period of slave labour.
My brother and sister were evacuated to Barnstable North Devon.
Schooling was continually interrupted by Air raids during the blitzes of Plymouth.
At thirteen I went to boarding school until I was sixteen.
The family was partly reunited in 1946 without my Father and Friend.

A Soldier, Father, and Friend
My story begins when I came into the world on the 28th April 1930, born at Blackdown, Surrey; my father was serving in the Suffolk Regiment.
I suppose I was about six years old when I was beginning to understand a little about life. Why I was going to school, why I had to go to bed early, why I had to eat all my dinner up.
I believe I had a happy childhood, my father took me everywhere, he was a disciplinarian but fair, that made me feel safe with him.
I can鈥檛 remember being punished by him; he was a very keen sportsman playing mostly football and water-polo.
I learned that my father had served a term in the late 1920鈥檚 in India.
The regiment returned to Aldershot Barracks, England.
I recall during my infancy that he was I believe, responsible for the horse artillery, where the Regiment participated in the Aldershot Tattoo鈥檚.
For what I can remember it was quite a display of horsemanship and energy, and the horses and gun carriage equipment sparkled with polish. Mock battles would take place with guns firing blanks to the excitement of the children in the crowd.
I grew up with horses, as he always used to take me to the stables whenever possible.
I used to help muck out and the broom was three times as big as I was.
I remember a particular horse named 'Bonzo' a very gentle horse. My father often lifted me on the horse鈥檚 neck, holding on very tightly to the horse鈥檚 mane and taking me for a ride I felt as if I was a hundred feet from the ground.

Malta - The Regiment Posting
The 1930鈥檚 was shrouded by the depression and worldly goods were not easy to come by and mum managing on army pay found it difficult to cope My mother was an excellent cook ,.and did wonders, in providing us with as much healthy food as she could manage
In 1937 the Suffolk Regiment and families were posted to Malta. The battalion boarded the troopship 'Duneria' sailing from Southampton Docks, and a brass band on the Quayside played 'Old Lang Sine'.
The ship slipped away from the docks and into the English Channel,鈥� What was in store for the future鈥�? I had no idea. I didn鈥檛 even know where Malta was, for the children it seemed like all play and no schooling.
I recall whilst sailing through the Bay of Biscay, the ship rolled and tossed in the very rough sea and sea sickness was rife.
The troopship eventually docked at Gibraltar, where the rock stood out against the morning sunrise. Gibraltarians in their small boats came along the side to sell their wares. Bearing in mind the ships decks were some 30ft above the waterline. Trading was carried out by rope with a bag attached to it, items were held up by the boat people for the buyer to see, and trading was done by bargaining, it was very noisy but entertaining time.
Small children would dive off their boats into the sea to recover money thrown in from the upper decks, and bring the coins up with tremendous joy.
The ship set sail once again after the short stop and the Mediterranean and Malta lie ahead.
A sight I shall always remember was the day the 鈥淢ed鈥� was at its calmest (like a ducks pond) as the saying goes. Hundred of porpoises and flying fish came along the side of the ship, leaping out of the sea in pace with the ship, everyone on board were delighted to experience the sight.
The arrival at Valletta Harbour was yet another experience I shall not forget, the ship being escorted to the dockside by tugs.
That day was taken up with unloading the packing cases and suit cases by the ships and dock cranes, where the luggage was placed into large nets in the hold of the ship and placed onto the quay-side Families disembarking organising their coaches for the short journey to St Georges Barracks. I clung to my mother like glue during the journey. It was a very long and tiresome day for all the Mums and children.
On the way to our final destination, looking through the bus window in particular at the strange women dressed in their traditional black hooded gowns.
The coach passed many herds of goats with the Maltese herdsman not really concerned about traffic. The couch driver would have to negotiate the bus very slowly through the herd, being very careful not to run any goat down.
The roads were very bumpy, dusty and narrow. I recall the coach approached a very narrow bend leading down to St Georges Bay. With the narrow track in front of us the driver had to reverse several times to get around the bend with the sea directly below. It was a very scary moment for the children and mums.
Malta in the eyes of a small boy was at the time a wonderful place, I enjoyed my schooling, playing with my many friends on the rocks and swimming in the sea鈥� life was simple with no worries. Looking after my three guinea pigs was my favourite pastime and also I was a member of the cub group.
Quite often we had to put up with nasty insects like cockroaches, ants, mosquitoes, snakes, and locusts, and even swimming in the sea jelly fish would be a nuisance.
I remember clearly an occasion when a large locust appeared in the dining room 鈥淕et the broom鈥� my mother screamed, compressing it against the ceiling after several attempts, every time mum removed the broom it would fly to another part of the room, eventually it flew out of the front door.
Going to the barrack cinema with my Mum and Dad was quite a regular pastime, and once we saw 鈥淒onkey Serenade鈥� (I won鈥檛 explain what was about because I can鈥檛 remember).
Cooking and heating was carried out using paraffin and used to be delivered by the paraffin man and his donkey and cart, and one day I overheard my mum talking to him 鈥淚 no like Mussolini I kill him鈥�, He said. I often wonder if he ever survived the bombing of Malta, George Cross Island.

The threat of war
I learned in the coming months problems were brewing, I didn鈥檛 quite understand what, but there was an air of unsettlement within the army barracks. Large guns would practice firing out to sea. Soldiers in full kit and training were very intense my father would spend more time in the barracks and navel ships would be passing by more frequently. During the time we spent in Malta Hitler and Mussolini was preparing for war.
Two and half years passed by and in June 1939 orders were received that the Suffolk regiment and their families to return to the UK, except for essential staff.
A very good friend of my fathers and indeed the family who鈥檚 rank was Major (Fred Hicks) remained in Malta and throughout the siege years (1940/43) and the family returning to the UK.
We set sail for home on the troopship 鈥淒evonshire鈥�? One particular incident that stood out was, halfway through the Mediterranean Sea, on a very calm day the soldiers on board threw their tropies into the sea, and what a sight that was. hundreds of them were being left behind like floating paper ships.

Returning to the UK
When the Regiment returned to the UK, they were stationed at Bury St Edmonds, Suffolk. We were then transferred to Crownhill Barracks in Plymouth.
War was declared on the 11th September 1939 and the families were very relieved to be on home soil, thinking also of those who were left behind in Malta.
The Regiment was drafted to Lillie in France, as part of the Expeditionary Force.
With the advance of the Germans into France pushed the allies back to Dunkirk, where my father and thousands of soldiers where evacuated

The beginning of the Blitz of Plymouth
The first of a long run of air raids began in 1940; I was now 10 years old.
As the war with Germany and Japan intensified, the married families were transferred to allocated housing outside the barracks, in order to accommodate the enlisted and allied soldiers.
We moved to a house in Bowden Park Rd, Crownhill not far from Plumer Barracks
June 30th 1940 was the first air raid on Plymouth and spasmodic raids continued until September 12th 1940 where an attack killed 13 and 5 seriously hurt and 10 injured.
It was recommended by the Air Raid Patrols to sleep under the stairs as this was considered to be the safest place,
We didn鈥檛 have an air raid shelter, it was very cramped conditions. The Germans continued their policy of small hit and run raids aimed particularly at Royal Navy ships anchored in Plymouth Sound.

As the war intensified, on October 17th the sirens hastened people to the shelters, after a few minutes the all clear sounded and people returned to their workplace. The siren sounded again and people ran for cover to the same air raid shelter but found it locked as the key keeper had gone home,
Frustrated and frightened they went home, after dispersing a bomb had a direct hit on the shelter and fortunately no person was hurt.

Paperboy
During this period I was a paperboy and worked for Pasco鈥檚 the local Newsagent at Crownhill, carrying out paper deliveries, early morning and evenings after school.
Sunday mornings I would carry my bag which was twice my weight filled with newspapers to sell to the soldiers whilst having their breakfast .The value of money didn鈥檛 seem to worry the soldiers as I very seldom gave back any change, so I was the richest paperboy in England and also I never went hungry
During the dark winter days and at the height of the raids I would try to complete my rounds but found myself on numerous occasions in an unfamiliar air raid shelters.
Until a lull in the raid allowed me to continue my deliveries and get home safe and sound before the raids recommenced.
There was strict blackout enforcement and this condition made it even more difficult to do my deliveries. All I had to see with was a torch, with light area covered with black tape with a small slit to provide the light.
The roads and pavement condition were not up to peacetime standards and I found myself tripping over holes in the road and when it was raining filled up with water, making my feet wet and cold.

My Father was lost for ever
Japanese infantry was gaining considerable ground in the Malaysian Straights and this prompted the British Government to ship thousands of British troops to defend Singapore.
My father was one of those soldiers.
The day he left us was a very sad occasion, saying good-by at North Road Stn I shall never forget, not knowing what the future would bring, many other families were saying good 鈥攂ye to loved ones. Empty hearted we made our way back to Plumer Barracks. We were now on our own. 鈥淲hat did the future hold in Store鈥�?
Immediately after arriving at Singapore the 5th Battalion were placed in to defensive position with his section at Pungel Point, North of Singapore Island,
My father and a Cpl College where hit by a Japanese mortar bomb on 6th February 1942 and died almost immediately and their bodies were laid to rest in KRANJI WAR CEMETARY SINGAPORE.
The War Office notified my Mother by telegram, Mum was heavily pregnant with my brother. It was a very sad time, knowing that I would never see my father and friend again

The siege of Malta
During this time the siege of Malta was at its highest. Being heavily bombed and convoys not able to get through with valuable supplies.
My mother often spoke of our family friend (Fred Hicks) who was the Governor of Valetta Prison, wondering all the time whether he was alive or not.
Communications out of Malta was very sparse. .Life was hell for the Maltese people and those friends that we left behind, and we felt thankful that we came home to the UK in time.

A second closer to death
Plymouth was being bombed night and day, bombs falling all around us. The Oil storage tanks were set alight and burned for weeks.
In times of war death can arrive very suddenly without much warning or perhaps die of wounds in a very painful way.
Our lives were nearly lost by a bomb exploding not 30 yds away, demolishing the house at the end of the garden. There was no air raid shelter in the garden at the time and my pregnant mother, sister and a navel seaman who was lodging with us and myself where in the back room, the air raid was intensifying and it was during the early part of the raid that the bomb exploded.
It was the third bomb of stick of five falling in a straight line. The first exploded in the road 75yds away, the second demolished a bungalow opposite, the third came in over the top of the house exploding in the back garden, and the fourth and fifth exploded on to a bungalow in the next road
Fortunately no one was killed.
I t is very frightening moment in time when you hear the screaming of bombs falling from the sky a whistling that intensifies as it gets nearer and the impact of explosions one after the other and the nearest one to you explodes with furiousness vibrations, that you blacked out with fright. After a few moments we all recovered happy to be alive but was certainly a terrifying moment
After a short time we were told by the local ARP (Air Raid Patrol) to evacuate the house as it was thought it might be an unexploded bomb, but the crater was some 20 ft deep.
In between the time of the bomb exploding and when we were told to evacuate, we moved from the lounge in the house to the outdoor toilet, why it was decided to do this I hadn鈥檛 a clew.

Yet another terrifying half an hour to come
At 2.a.m. in the morning Mum hurriedly gathered us all together with our warm clothing and prepared for a walk to find shelter. My sister was in the push chair, and I held on tightly, walking as fast as possible to try and find shelter. We walked for what seemed like a long time, with Shrapnel and akk-akk guns firing all around us and the night sky lit up by the city fires. We were terrified but fortunately my mother managed to find shelter under s garage with 20 other people.
We stayed there until dawn when the siren sounded for the all clear.
Whilst walking back home. Perhaps mum wondering whether the house would be still standing, it was, but regrettably the bungalow on the other side of the road had received a direct hit. Fortunately no one was hurt; three other bombs had landed in the road nearby, including the one in the back garden.

PLEASE SEE "Soldier, Father and friend - PART 2" at bbc.co.uk/dna/ww2/a4401406

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