大象传媒

WW2-I remember it well

Born in 1935 to caring parents, I grew up with my older brother during the WW2 years. We lived in Thornton Heath, Surrey (Now South London). My Father, who had survived WW1 in the army serving some time in Russia, had a job in insurance with the Hearts of Oak Benevolent Society, travelling around the UK by public transport.

In 1940 as a 5 year old I can remember standing in our garden watching the aerial battles (dog fights) over the Croydon area and us. Spitfires and Hurricanes mixing it with the Luftwaffe鈥檚 Messerschmitts and bombers.

To this day I am still amazed how the terror of the situation was never passed on to us children. It must have been horrendous for our parents although they always seamed so calm. Later in the war we all slept as a family in a Morrison Shelter, which was a steel construction erected in the living room. I think it was the first time I had heard my Dad swear when he banged his head on the roof of the shelter, as it was only a low construction for sleeping. You could just about sit up in the shelter so the adults found it difficult to get in and out.

When land mines were being dropped, two occasions spring to mind. One night the Margarine factory at Mitcham was hit and although I don鈥檛 recall many casualties, our garden in Thornton Heath three miles away was littered with margarine papers. The other incident was when a land mine hit the old Davis Theatre in Croydon during a performance. The mine, finish up in the auditorium but miraculously, did not explode and the casualty list was a lot lower than it would have been.

In 1944 the menace of the Doodle-bugs appeared and the devastation in our area was pretty bad. We got used to the sound of the V1鈥檚 and it seemed as though they were treated with contempt. As children we played our games and when we heard a V1 approaching we listened and watched, and when satisfied that the flying bomb had passed or was heading in a different direction, we carried on playing. We only ran for cover if thought necessary. Even, when the V2鈥檚 arrived with a swish and a bang, as children it was all taken as a matter of fact.
I can remember going to Croydon one Saturday morning with my brother to do some shopping and while we were in Kennards (now Debenhams) we all took cover during an air raid. I had said to my brother Peter as the flying bomb flew over, 鈥淚 bet that is close to home鈥�. On the way home on the No.133 London Transport bus we were diverted off Melfort Road, Thornton Heath, as a Doodle-bug had a direct hit on a house in Norbury Crescent. When my Brother and I arrived home we found Dad clearing up the bits of debris from the blast, which was quite the normal chore. Near where we lived in Buckingham Gardens was the railway line, which was on an embankment, and on many occasions this embankment had protected us from the devastation on the other side. It seams quite shocking now, but as children after any raid we were out collecting shrapnel, scorched pieces of metal from the explosion, sometimes the shrapnel was still warm.

One moonlit night during a flying bomb raid, one fell quite close. The explosion was deafening and the whole house shook violently. We were in our normal beds at the time, and after the explosion Dad got up. On getting downstairs I heard Dad exclaim 鈥渂li-me, we really have caught it this time鈥�, at the bottom of the stairs all he could see was bright moon light shining through the back of the council house. The house was 4 bedroomed and downstairs had a dining room, living room, kitchen and bathroom. Between the kitchen and bathroom was a coal store, which was accessible from inside the house and outside. What had happened that night, apart from the windows being shattered yet again, the external door to the coal store had been blown off its hinges and the internal door had been blown open by the blast hence the appearance, in the dark, of a big hole through the wall. We all had a good laugh and then simply got on with the repairs. Life was like that.

At 10 years old in 1945, when activities were becoming quieter, I can remember quite clearly a near miss, which happened one Sunday lunchtime. We had just finished our lunch and I was helping with the washing up. We could hear a plane flying overhead, and as was normal, went into the garden to see what plane it was, friend or foe. Even then I was quite keen on aircraft and recognised it as an American Lockheed Lighting (P38) very distinguishable with a twin boom. The plane was obviously in trouble, although initially we thought it was doing aerobatics over our area, Dad saying, 鈥� What is that mad fool think he is doing?鈥� not knowing it was pilotless at the time. The plane suddenly dived coming very low over our house and crashed, close by, into the back of a house in Norbury Avenue, near Kensington Avenue. Instinctively Dad ran off, me in pursuit, towards the scene at the house backing onto the golf links, as it was known. Fortunately the residents of the house had been in the front rooms and survived the incident, but I do remember a poor cat running from the site with all it鈥檚 fur burning. Whether the cat survived or not I don鈥檛 know but there was a stream (River Graveney) at the back of the house and often wonder if this poor animal had made it with the help of the stream.

The plane apparently had been damaged during a mission, and the crew had bailed out leaving the pilot to try and limp back to the base (not known). We heard that the pilot had bailed out landing near Streatham Common, after setting the controls to direct the plane towards the golf links, which were then allotments.

We were one of the lucky families coming through it all unscathed. A terrible time and not a good springboard into life, but on a positive note, us children learned a lot from the wartime experiences. The neighbourly spirit and teamwork staying with you throughout your life. My brother served in the army after the war and I joined the RAF in the early 50鈥檚 enjoying my regular service as an engine fitter on piston and jet aircraft.

At 70 I鈥檓 still working driving a few hours for a Day Centre, transporting people having similar experiences. I always feel concerned that so many of life鈥檚 experiences are lost and commend this opportunity to pass a small bit of history on.

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