大象传媒

This story is submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a member of Market Harborough Branch, Royal British Legion on behalf of Ray Murton and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Murton fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Recollections of my Wartime Childhood.
by Ray Murton

I was born in East Dulwich S.London in 1930 and when WW2 started many of my peer group were evacuated. Me and several of my 鈥渕ates鈥� were not and, in the ignorance of youth rather enjoyed the excitement of air raids and sirens and collecting shrapnel!! All the schools were closed for many months which, of course, we thought was great!

We had an Anderson shelter in our backyard but after the first few raids we stayed in the house, rarely using it.

Eventually, at the end of 1940 I was sent to Somerset to live with a family of coal miners in a tiny cottage, one of a row of eight, with no gas no electricity and no water except for one tap supplying all eight cottages and a row of toilets which were emptied into the cesspool alongside the houses.

A Jewish lady with two kids and another lady, all from London, also lived in this tiny house, with the family of Mother, Father, and 3 working sons!! After all these years I find it difficult to imagine how we all managed.

In my naivety I thoroughly enjoyed the primitive simple life, helping on the local farm; we were allowed a number of hours off each week to help with hay-making, potato harvest etc., and were paid 4d, (1.5 new pence) an hour!

The village school, two miles away, was now very overcrowded, 60 in my class, but it suited me and the lessons were simple and rather limited. Lots of football and gardening and as I was a fairly bright lad I was usually top of the class. We had the same teacher for all lessons except music when the headmaster, a WW1 veteran, played the piano and taught us west-country folk music, which I thoroughly enjoyed and still do.

When school broke up for Christmas 1943 I was three weeks from my 14th birthday, I returned to London and in true working class style my Mum said 鈥淭he bloke up the road wants a butcher boy鈥� and so started my illustrious career at the wonderful wage of 25 shillings a week.(拢1.25p) still just 13 years old.

So, I was in Dulwich delivering meat on carrier-bike in the area, including to Ann Shelton鈥檚 mother! , while Jerry was throwing doodle-bugs (V1s) and flying bombs (V2s) all around us, for the remaining 18 months of the war. When a cloud of smoke rose in the direction of my home, I would ask the butcher if I could nip home to see if my mum was safe.

There were many houses and shops destroyed in the area but my mum鈥檚 corner shop survived and so did we. My dad during this time, being too old for military service, was a bus driver.

I have always felt cheated of educational chances and feel sure I could have risen to modest heights, but I did make a reasonable career in commerce after doing my national service 1948/50.

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