大象传媒

Born in Weymouth Dorset, I was just a young boy at the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939, but it was the impact of these next 5 years that I am sure influenced my future and resulted in me joining the St. John Ambulance Brigade.

St. John Ambulance played a major part at home during the war and as my dad was already a member of St. John; he became heavily involved during his non-working hours.
Dad was one of those 鈥渓ucky鈥� men who were not called up for service during the war, as his special expertise as an electrician was required in the Weymouth area.
I had two elder sisters, Jean who was 10 years older, and Gwen, who was five years older. Being the youngest and the only boy. I could do nothing wrong.

Having dad at home was somewhat unique in those trouble torn days, but we did not see much of him as he was always out on ARP (Air Raid Precautions) duty or Home Guard (Dad鈥檚 Army).

Young though I was, the experience of the war years caused us youngsters to grow up fast and I was soon to learn the essential skills of survival, when it came to running to the outside air aid shelter that was erected in our back garden.
One of the 鈥渆xciting鈥� things that we children did during the war was to collect shrapnel. (Jagged bits of bomb and shell metal that rained down from the skies every time the Luftwaffe raided. 鈥� I believe it was named after Lieutenant Henry Shrapnel in 1784). If we could collect a piece while it was still warm, this was indeed a bonus, and made us the envy of all the other kids.

At the very start of the war we had a young lad called Geoff. Kennard evacuated from London to live with us. A reminder of how bad things could become.
Later we were to be bombed out of our home and had to go to live with my uncle in the country, poor Geoff. had to find another home.
Some of the situations that dad had to confront together with his other St. John colleagues were horrific.
I will describe some of them in order to give the reader some idea of the impact that these had on our young lives, but out of evil comes good and I later joined St. John.

My grandparents lived in the same street as us and I recall on one occasion dad who was on first aid duty at the local H.Q. was called to an incident in our street. Dad narrated his story to us later when he returned home exhausted. His first comment was of his devastation, and later extreme relief, when he discovered that his parent鈥檚 house had been badly damaged and they could not be found, but later he discovered that they had moved down to our house when the bombing got too heavy.
Pulling people and belongings from the rubble, he and his colleagues, working with limited torchlight, discovered the leg of a neighbour sticking out from the debris. Removing more rubble they were soon to discover that it was only the leg, the remainder could not be found. - Five people were killed that dark evening and I often wonder what thoughts went through dad鈥檚 mind as he raced to our area to render assistance. - There was no counselling in those days, only camaraderie and very good neighbours.

Another occasion, which involved me, was running for our shelter in the garden, during a very heavy raid. Although it was a dark winter night 鈥� most air raids took place at night in the early days of the war 鈥� the whole night sky was alight with fires from incendiary bombs, and I could hear many people screaming as they ran for their shelters. As I got to the garden I could see a German aircraft dive down from the skies and strafe us all with tracer bullets. Obviously I survived to tell the tale, but sadly some more of our neighbours did not. It was this incident that was deemed to have had a profound affect on my future health.
The next morning, after the 鈥淎ll Clear鈥� was sounded, we came out of our shelter to find that bullets had chipped the brickwork above our kitchen window and pierced holes in the roof of our lean to shed. But the greatest discovery was to find that the tin bath we used on Saturday night bath nights had three large holes through the bottom. No more baths for a while thought I, but dad soon procured another one.

Many small boats left the Weymouth harbour to assist with the evacuation of Dunkirk, and numerous refugees from Europe arrived in Weymouth. The St. John team including Dad, had the unenviable task trying to make these poor hapless human beings as comfortable as possible. Unfortunately, many had brought with them some diseases and Dad acquired the very contagious Scabies and gave it to all our family. The problem soon cleared up after a few weeks of painting on a special solution every day, which caused the scabies to sting, it was a very unpleasant experience, but nothing like as bad as being a refugee.

Many more incidents occurred, but finally the war ended in 1945 and I will forever remember that day. Mum told us children the good news that the war had ended and we went to the Weymouth sea front to celebrate with thousands of others including numerous service people. It was an event to be remembered.
This was a turning point for me. Having experienced at first hand the many sad and sometimes amusing incidents that had taken place, I decided that it would be a good idea for me, along with many others, to show our gratitude by putting something back into the community. At this time it was desperately needed (and still is), so I joined the St. John Ambulance with my dad. My two sisters also joined, but mum was too busy looking after us all to have any spare time of her own.

A local schoolteacher and member of the Weymouth division, Doug. Accutt wrote a book called the 鈥淏rigade in Action鈥� and depicts the work of the Weymouth St. John Ambulance during the war years. It contains some interesting details and pictures and is about the only documented war history of Weymouth.

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The area I lived in (Chapelhay), was extensively bombed during the war and we were twice bombed out of our house in 1940.
We returned to the area in 1943, but of course not to our original house as this was badly damaged and no longer habitable. However the Americans used these damaged houses as a 鈥淪treet Fighting Area鈥� where they trained for later combat.

My personal recollections as a youngster, of these American times were mainly ones of excitement.
Of particular interest to all of us youngsters in the Chapelhay area, were the huge American convoys.
This was for two main reasons. Being in Chapelhay meant that we had to cross the Weymouth harbour bridge to get to school at the Holy Trinity School in Commercial road.
These huge long convoys of men and equipment wound it鈥檚 way regularly over the bridge and along the quay, which resulted in us not being able to cross the bridge for some considerable time, making us very late for school.
As an added bonus we were able to have a very close up view of a large range of equipment, guns, tanks, etc. the like of which we never knew existed.

All this equipment wound its way through Weymouth, en route to Portland for embarkation. It was amassed on the Portland beach road, where a large portion of the Chesil Beach succumbed to the bulldozers to provide a massive parking area.
Portland harbour with its deep water was ideal for embarkation and the sea was filled with ships. The tanks and guns etc. were forwarded to these ships and I remember staring in awe at their enormous size with gaping bow doors wide open, which appeared to swallow up the tanks as they lumbered towards them, with comparative ease.
The landing craft then transferred thousands of American troops to the boats and soon they were on their way, sadly many were never to return.
Overhead at the time the RAF kept a constant vigil to ensure there were no German intruders, but most of the hectic air battles had long since been won, but large numbers of British gliders towed by their planes passed over the Nothe en route to the D-Day landings.

There is no doubt in my mind that the American equipment was superior and in vast quantities and mind boggles at the logistics required in providing such a massive force.

Further memories, are those of the American soldier鈥檚 generosity. We had been on strict food rationing for several years, and the amount of food etc. that were available to the Americans were enormous with respect to our meagre rations.
The sweets and chewing gum were readily available to us youngsters, although we were forbidden by our parents to ask for it. The expression 鈥済ot any gum chum鈥� was considered to be very discourteous by my parents.

Many time we gathered at the landing stage by the harbour to wave goodbye to the troops, but we could not get very close as there were large security barriers set up to prevent intruders.
The American soldiers threw quantities of sweets in our direction as they boarded the craft to take them away. I will always remember the 鈥淟ifesaver鈥� sweet, which were like fruit flavoured Polo鈥檚. I believe they were in packets of 25 and we scrambled madly to retrieve them and take them home to our family, often getting into trouble for accepting them.
Nylon stockings were another great attraction for the girls, but I was to young to fully understand why.

When the Street Fighting training was in progress we youngsters were often asked if we had any older sisters at home, which I did, but I do not recall them having any Nylons.

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