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The key features of this reminiscence are multiple evacuation, three attempts by the Luftwaffe to kill me, and severe (but in the event inconsequential) disruption of primary schooling.

Immediately following the outbreak of war and heeding government advice my mother self-evacuated my sister and I (then aged 4½) from London to Torquay, arriving unannounced at a house that my parents had stayed at for their honeymoon some years earlier. The then owners (Bowdens, 4 Haytor Road) were probably not very pleased to see us initially, but the rules at the time that no-one could refuse evacuees. In the event we all got on very well.

In view of the ‘phoney war’ (end 1939, beginning 1940) we returned to London just before Xmas. However, when it suddenly became serious we returned to Haytor Road. I commenced my primary schooling (Westfield I think the school was called) but soon thereafter, because of the influx of evacuees, we were siphoned off to a school set up in a disused postal sorting office near Plainmore Road football ground. Before long both my sister and I were deemed to be unhealthy specimens and were then transferred to Homelands Open-Air School (long gone, but it was right next to the football ground).

The first encounter with the Luftwaffe came when we my sister, a friend, and I, after playing on a recreation ground (also next to the football ground), headed for home. However we still had about 400 yards to go when the siren went. Raids on Torquay and elsewhere along the south coast were of no military significance, but simply terror raids (‘Tip and Run’ was the term used. Planes would fly in under the radar, fly around, drop a bomb or two and machine- gun anything that moved). We were taught to lie down at the sound of the planes (usually they arrived, as on this occasion, within 20-30 secs) and I lay down in the gutter, my sister sheltered behind a wall and our friend dived into a hedge. The planes (Focke-Wulff 190’s) were so low that I could see the pilots clearly. Machine gun bullets were spraying all around. However they missed which is why I am writing this.

I used to go to Sunday school at St Mary’s Church in Babbacombe. On one Sunday I did not go because my father (whom I did not recognise) came home on leave. That day the Luftwaffe bombed the Sunday school and about twenty children were killed. The clock at the church stopped at the time of the bombing and as far as I know has never been restarted, being kept as a kind of memorial.

As the bombing of London subsided somewhat, we returned home but stayed for a short while in Bradford, near the Lister Mill with some acquaintances of my father; I did not go to school there. Back in London, I went to my fourth school (Galliard Road, Edmonton). The Luftwaffe then bombed our street (Oaklands Avenue), killing some people and our house was badly damaged. This was a time when boys did not compare trainers or skateboards, but rather the magnitude and quality of their shrapnel collections. (The stuff was everywhere and one usually carried a shoe box into which the treasured specimens were put.)

Then for good measure V1 menace started. (When that pulse engine stopped world record times were set in the dash for shelter!) So we left London again for to stay with relatives in Birmingham (Sparkbrook). There was no room for me at any school so I amused myself collecting train numbers (THE done thing in those days.) Eventually space was found at Stratford Road School.
However we had imposed ourselves on relatives long enough so we were off again to Wythall, where my mother worked as a housekeeper at a house (Stevani family) next to the golf course. The contrast with Sparkbrook was notable, as was the experience (typical in Wythall at the time of having wells rather than mains water.) It was here that I attended my sixth school (Silver Street) and took the eleven plus at the age of nine. I understand that this is the only year that this was possible. After a while we then moved on to stay with the Rev. Miller and family at the Wythall Vicarage (oil lamps!) where we remained until VE day.

On returning to London (Galliard Road School again) my mother was informed that I had passed for Redditch Grammar School and should attend there without delay, clearly impossible. The Local Education Authority then arranged for me to attend instead, Latymer Grammar School. Here I was initially at considerable disadvantage, not only for having missed all the introductory weeks, but I was evidently a year behind in schooling (and also being a year younger than everyone else.)

In retrospect, seeing so many parts of the country that would have been otherwise impossible, and noting the differences in character of the local children (Torquay - gentle and peaceable, London - aggressive and destructive) as well as a wide variety of lifestyles and accommodation, was a very valuable experience. Surving the traumatic events of the time made one recognise that every new day was a bonus, a feeling that has never gone away

Roger Taylor, Ph.D., D.Sc
Emeritus Professor of Chemistry
Sussex University

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