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'This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Gwilym Scourfield of the County Heritage Team on behalf of Joyce Payne and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

Was That Rabbit or Chicken? —
A Child’s War on the Home Front

I was only three and a half when war broke out. I lived here in Bicester, off the Bucknell Road, in Hudson Street. My dad had failed the medical to get into the army because of flat feet. Sadly he had a fatal motor cycle accident shortly afterwards on the Oxford Road so Mum had no one to help her with my younger brother and I.

Our house was filled with evacuees from Dagenham. We had Mr and Mrs Margetts and their two children. Strangely enough they were also named like my brother and I — Joyce and John! My aunt and uncle had Mr Margett’s brother and his four children. Our two families were pushed together by the war and stayed friends for our entire lives. Evacuees got on pretty well with local people. There were a few scuffles sometimes breaking out at school, but most of the time we all got along pretty well.

We saw lots of soldiers. The bath house was just up the road from us. Most days of the week they would march past our front window in strict order. The Non Combat Corps also had a big house in Highfield. At Christmas time they had a huge party and all us local children went along. There was a great big fireplace in the front room. Guess who came down the chimney at Christmas time? We were really impressed by that! They did sports days for us in the summer, too. It was a real advantage being so near!

Mum was working as a cashier at the grocers, so I sent to school when I was four. At night we listened to the news bulletins on the radio. I don’t think we understood them, but the importance of keeping the accumulator fully charged was a responsibility taken very seriously. I used sometimes to take it up to Sheep Street to get it charged. We also listened to Tommy Hanley in ITMA and I had Dick Barton, Special Agent, too. We were allowed to listen to The Man in Black in the dark. That was very exciting.

We did well for food. Grandad had an allotment and gran kept chickens. There were plenty of rabbits about, too. Mum used to roast them and tell us they were chickens. She was a wonderful cook. She could always make something out of nothing. I remember the dried eggs and the dried milk. Best of all was the sticky milk (condensed milk). The only thing I didn’t like was the thick brown stew with the pearl barley. I hated that gravy. We didn’t have many sweets, though I did enjoy chewing on the ‘Spanish’ — liquorish wood.

The air raid shelter at the school was a long brick-built shed with hard benches in it. We had to go in there during raids. It was very unpleasant, smelling of damp and quite dark. I never have liked the dark. When we played out at nights and planes flew over I can remember being frightened, but not really knowing why.

Not long after we moved to George Street there was an RAF pilot from across the road who was killed in action. I went to the man’s grave at the churchyard. I had been there before for the funeral of a little boy who dies of appendicitis. He was only eight. I remember the fear and the sadness of that occasion, though I don’t believe I was much older than five. It is unlikely that he would have died if they had been able to get the medicines that were commonplace a few years later.

The VE party was at the Star, the pub along the street. It was splendid. Everyone was so happy that it was all over. I was nine then and most indignant that I had to go home before the party was finished. I could see and still hear much of what was going on from my bedroom. Life in Bicester wasn’t too bad during the war, but it was a whole lot better to have it over with.

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