大象传媒

Joan's War Time

Like many people of my generation, I know exactly where I was when war was declared. It was a few days after my eighth birthday and I was staying on holiday with my grandparents in their cottage on the Trafalgar Estate, near Temple Guiting in the Cotswolds. Going to stay with Grampy and Nan-nan was the only holiday we could afford whilst I and my three siblings were children. The rest of the time was spent entirely at Evesham where we were born, the last brother not until 1941.

As we heard the news on the radio, Nan-nan threw her pinafore up over her face and sobbed. She had lost three brothers, all over 6 ft tall, in the First World War, and would have three of her own sons serve in the armed forces in the war that was beginning. Two older sons were agricultural workers, a reserved occupation, but Les, the youngest son, joined the Navy. He came through the war, only to be struck down by a severe and mysterious illness which eventually responded to M & B, a new wonder drug at that time. I believe that "M & B" stands for May & Butler, the makers of the drug.

Evesham, in its Vale, was comparatively safe and superficially unaffected by the war. So much so, that it was chosen by the 大象传媒 as its wartime home. Buildings were erected on an estate at Wood Norton, close to Simon de Monfort's Tower, 3 or 4 miles from the centre of Evesham. People who seemed very exotic to us were seen around the town, some being billeted on the townsfolk. Before they all returned to London, the 大象传媒 thanked the town by giving a free stage show in the Clifton Cinema, in the High Street, to all who had looked after them.

Other billetees were evacuees from Coventry and Birmingham, who arrived early in the '40s. I can hardly believe it, but I can see clearly, the procession of tired children walking along our street -being "picked off by neighbours who had room. We did not have room, but at last there was only one little boy left and Mum took him in. His name was Lawrence, that is all we knew. He cried all night long and next morning we found out that he had been separated from his bigger sister. Luckily the latter's host agreed to have Lawrence, too.

The influx of so many children meant that, later in the war, when I had moved on to Prince Henry's Grammar School, we, the local children and teachers, had to attend school only in the mornings. Lots of homework was given for the rest of the day spent at home. The evacuees and their teachers took the school over for the afternoon sessions.

Any bombs we suffered were jettisoned after raids on Coventry and Birmingham. There were only 2 or 3 and luckily they fell on the outskirts of the town, causing no loss of life. One fell near Wickhamford Lane, where my Father had his market garden. His was a reserved occupation and he took on more land to "dig for victory". We all had to help out. He also was in "Rescue and Demolition" -though he had little to do in that area! I can't remember any restrictions or directives concerning what Dad could grow, but I remember that when we had our pig killed, half went to the Ministry of Food, and we were allowed to keep half. Not a scrap was wasted! We also had our own hens, so eggs were never a problem.

Life continued in Evesham. The sirens sounded almost every night while the raids on the Midlands persisted. We didn't have an air-raid shelter, but took refuge in the "bogey-hole" under the stairs. Other "excitements" were two 'planes down; first a Tiger Moth, a training aircraft, crashed in Iron's Ground, a market garden, with two pilots injured, and then later a Lancaster bomber forced-landed in a meadow by the River Avon, which flows through the centre of Evesham. After repairs and prior to flying off, the testing of the engines, four Rolls Royces, could be heard all over the town!

In the Abbey Park, which runs down to the Avon, Nissen Huts were later erected for American servicemen. Some were billeted around .the town. That was the first time we had seen Baseball and softball played - very exciting!
An old 1914-18 army tank in that park was cut up for scrap metal. Several ancient canon in the Workman Gardens across the river met the same fate - as did ALL the iron railings in the town, not to mention any spare pots and pans.
The town raised money to commission a destroyer and several Spitfires. As the war progressed we saw Italian and German prisoners of war, working on farms in the area, even doing some engineering jobs. We were told by our parents not to talk to them, but, of course, we did!
Our simple pleasures continued except that we couldn't buy all the fruit and sweets that you wanted. My one present on my 8th birthday was a Chocolate Dispensing Machine.
It looked like the one on our railway platform. It was made of stout cardboard and when you put a penny (Id) in the slot, a tiny bar of chocolate came out. Well! You can imagine what happened - no more miniature bars of chocolate. I was heart-broken.
We didn't take many photographs in the war-time. Maybe film was scarce for our Box Brownie? People still got married, see photo A, 1939. Babies were born, see photo B 1941. Pleasures were simple. Blowing bubbles, photo C, 1940. Soap was precious, water sometimes scarce. Brownies, Guides, Cubs and Scouts did good work, raising money for the war effort, running errands, picking rose hips for Rose Hip Syrup, photo D, as a Brownie in 1939.
I was 14 at the end of the war, photo E, 1945. I still had four more years at the Grammar School and life was not so very different, it seemed to us, with rationing still in force.

Until writing this I've always thought ours was a quiet war, but looking back I can see we did our utmost to play our part.

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