大象传媒

Dad was in the army, my brother seven and sister age twelve had been evacuated to Cornwall. Mother and I were living in London, White City Shepherds Bush. I was working in the NCR Marylebone Road. Mum worked in the Lyons Corner House Oxford Street.

I was 16 years of age and because The Cash Register Company had become a cover-up for a munition factory I escaped later call up. Every time the air raid sirens went we were double quick to get to the shelter on the bottom floor, we were on the 5th floor, in case 鈥淛erry鈥� had found out what was going on and decided to make us a target.

Mum and I slept in the underground stations some nights. We would hear the bombs falling fairly near and hoped and prayed we would find our flat standing when we got home in the morning. Funnily enough our block did get bombed twice and each time we were home, but thank goodness, we were OK except for a few scratches and the odd door blown off.

It was in July 1941 that Mum and I decided to go to Cornwall, to visit the children, catching the midnight train from Paddington. We got to the station early and the air raid sirens went off while we were having a cup of tea. Thank goodness, except for the noise of the Ack-Ack guns shooting at the aircraft, we didn鈥檛 hear any noise of bombs dropping , then the 鈥渁ll clear鈥� sounded.

When we arrived at the platform it was swarming with soldiers, it turned out that they were all Cornishmen, going home on leave having spent eighteen months in Iceland.
Mum and I got into a carriage with three of them, all the blinds were pulled down so we couldn鈥檛 be seen from the air.
Two of the soldiers were quite chatty looking forward to seeing their families, the third one was very quite. We were soon nodding off to sleep, Mum and I had been at work all day.

I woke about four thirty, the rest were still asleep, except for the quite soldier. He asked me my name and said his was Arthur. He then asked me if I had ever seen the dawn break, which I had to admit I hadn鈥檛.
鈥淚f we go into the corridor, we will just about catch it now鈥� he said. I was bored and, thinking he looked rather nice, I agreed.
We carefully shut the carriage door behind us. Sure enough it was a clear morning, the sun was just about to come up. I turned to say how nice it was and he bent over and kissed me then he said 鈥淚 am going to marry you鈥�, to which this young Londoner replied 鈥淧ull the other leg its got bells on鈥�.

Several weeks later, on his way back to duty, he came to London to see me and brought an engagement ring. He then went back to Iceland for another six months, where they were (with several other companies) guarding to see that the ships bringing food from the USA to England had a safe passage. Jerry鈥檚 U-boat鈥檚 had been sinking quite a few.

During his next couple of 鈥渓eaves鈥� he took me to Cornwall to meet his family.

To cut a long story short, in November 1942, Arthur was then given 48 hours embarkation leave and we were married. In twenty four hours we managed to obtain a special licence. The church banns having only been called twice. We managed to acquire some sherry and a cake with pretend cardboard icing. Mum used our food coupons to get some Spam and the man at the shop, who knew us, gave mum a few bits extra. The girls from the office came in their working cloths.

That night we went to Witchurch, where Arthur was stationed, by train. This so called honeymoon lasted 8 days and each day he had to report to the barracks, leaving me at 8am and returning at 5pm. Then he went abroad for three and a half years. As part of the First Army, Royal Engineers, he travelled through North Africa then onto Sicily finishing up in Italy.

My dear husband, who rose to the rank of Sargent, died this year 2003. We managed to celebrate our Diamond wedding, 60 years, with three daughters and a son to help us.

I could write a book about the war, but I am eighty years young this month and feel my stories about the war would be 鈥淥ld Hat鈥� to the present generation.

OLIVIA BATE

1930536 Sargent Arthur Bate
699 Royal Engineers (A Cornish Company)

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