大象传媒

This story has been entered onto the peoples war website by John Warner on behalf of Bert Vickery, the author who accepts and fully understand the sites terms and conditions.

Hello folks, this is Bert Vickery. I鈥檝e been married to Mary Hodge, from Mawnan Smith, since April 1944, and we鈥檝e had a recent experience of attending a War Memory Exhibition, which took part in St Michaels鈥� Church, Mawnan Smith, where we met a few people who remembered Mawnan Smith in the war years, sadly there wasn鈥檛 many.

鈥淚 failed to tell you, folks, that Mary and I were married in this same St Michaels鈥� Church, on the 15th. 1944, and here goes with my memories . . . . .

My memory of the Second World War starts in a little tenement house, Number 43 Appleby Street, Shoreditch, London E2, on September 3rd., and for those of you who don鈥檛 know where Shoreditch is; 鈥檅ack along鈥�, as the Cornish say, when you was at school you used to sing a little song 鈥� . . .when will they pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey, when I am rich, say the bells of Shoreditch鈥�. So now you know where Shoreditch is.

On September 3rd., we, that is my Father, and Flo my Mother, had already put up the Anderson Shelter, which was situated at the bottom of our garden. I was 14 years old on August 1st. 1939. There was in my family, my Dad, my Mum, my sister Nellie, and a step-sister Florrie, God bless her who didn鈥檛 live with us, but we all occupied the downstairs of this tenement house, and my Uncle Jack and his wife Nell, and my cousins Connie, Willy, and John, so we had a problem where to go in the Anderson shelter. At 11 a.m. on September 3rd. 1939 we all gathered round the battery old band Cossor wireless to hear Neville Chamberlain tell us that we were at war with Germany, and my memory is to play 鈥榤erry hell鈥� with me because till this day as soon as we were told that we were at war the siren went off, and we, our families, panicked, and nine of us dived into that Anderson Shelter. But since neither of the two of the families are left alive now I have no way of knowing that we mistook the siren for a raid on that sunny morning at 11 0鈥檆lock. I even remember the time.

Now I have to move forward to September 1940, when one Saturday afternoon I treated myself to a sixpenny seat in a Dalston cinema, Hackney. No sooner had I sat down the siren went to signal the raid. The manager came out on the stage to try and allay our fears by saying the film would continue. Fortunately for us the film was noisy enough to blank the horrible noise of the bombs that were going on outside. I came out of the Dalston cinema and I turned right into what is called Mayfield Road and looking to the east I could see mounds of smoke that seemed to stretch for miles, and as I was to find out when I got home the whole of the London Docks was on fire for miles. The families Vickerys and Jarvis were all O.K., but Jerry decided to finish the job and the fires from the daytime raid lit up London for the night bombers. Both families managed to get into the Anderson Shelter and I can remember my poor Mum, God bless her, saying to my Father, whose name was Albert, who would not go in the Anderson Shelter, 鈥淐an you get us a jug of water?鈥� The old chap must have got as far as the tap in the out-house or scullery as we called it, when there was a tremendous crashing noise followed by rubble breaks, and the noise was really ear-shattering. In all, well it was not only the women that were screaming in that blooming shelter, I was screaming my head off too, and poor old Flo, my Mum, said to me 鈥淏oy!鈥�, she always called me boy, 鈥済o and see if your Father鈥檚 o.k.鈥�. This made me panic a bit more but I managed to clamber out of the Anderson Shelter, only to find that the dust was like a dust storm, plus the fact obviously it was 鈥榖lack as Newkers鈥� Knockers鈥�, as we used to call it in London. Well I got to the scullery door, it was blown off actually, the windows were out, and I called out 鈥淒ad, are you all right?鈥�, and as I went in the scullery I could hear the poor old sod swearing like hell. Eventually I located him sitting on all fours with just the handle of the jug in his hand, with no sign of the other part of the water jug.

(Well I packed up writing for a while and then I picked my pen up again only to write that the exact date of this scary incident I鈥檓 not sure of.)

Sadly there is no one in the family to help me write these experiences. The day at the present moment is July 2005 and it won鈥檛 be possible to write this episode had the unexploded bomb gone off, and I look back at the experience of the unexploded bomb in such a way that had the bomb exploded none of my family, and many more of the families in the area, would have survived, but such was the friendship of our neighbours, those families in the immediate danger area were evacuated, and thanks to the neighbours all these people were taken and invited to stay till the bomb was removed by those wonderful bomb disposal boys, and this particular bomb was no midget, in fact they had to rig up bowls in a tripod fashion, and these bowls had to be at least higher than my Aunt Nell鈥檚 roof, because it was my Aunt Nell鈥檚 house that the bomb dropped on. Aunt Nell wasn鈥檛 there nor her children, but anyway they brought it up from the roof, it was five feet in length, and about twelve inches in diameter. The irony was that dear old Aunt Nell had a lodger, dear old Mac, would you credit it, Mac was on night shift and that horrible bomb went right through Macs鈥� bed!

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