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This story was submitted to the People’s War website by Angela Parks of CSV Media on behalf of Jim Spaulding and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

Jim Spaulding
Thornton Heath and Cornwall

I was born in Thornton Heath, London, in 1936 and my younger sister, Jean, was born in 1938. My father was in the London Fire Brigade as a fire engine driver for the whole of the war. It was a difficult and dangerous job, fighting fires after bombs had dropped and rescuing people. There were no street signs, as these had been melted down to provide arms, and there was no street lighting and only very dim headlights. The danger was compounded by the fact that whenever the Germans saw a fire, they then bombed it.

In 1940 my mother and sister and I were evacuated, because we were bombed out of our home. I think my mother came with us, because at four and two years of age, we were too young to travel alone. We travelled in the dark, by coach and train, not knowing where we were going. We reached an old building and stayed there in bunks for the night, with mice and rats running round us!

When I awoke, I opened the curtains and shouted excitedly ‘we’re by the sea, we’re by the sea!’ We were at Pragh Sands, a couple of miles from Penzance, in Cornwall. We were very fortunate and couldn’t have been better off really. We saw war, in that we saw ships firing at one another and heard them through the night, and we also saw air battles, but these didn’t directly affect us.

I immediately started at the local school, which was on the beach, so when we had playtime, we were able to play on the sand. It was a year’s holiday really, except that the beach was covered in barbed wire and anti-tank obstacles.

Money was tight and we had to use ration books for food and clothing. I particularly remember that one day I was given a 10 shilling note, with which to buy some shopping from the nearest shops, which were about 2 miles away. 10 shillings was a lot of money, and was about half of what my mother had been given for a week. I went out playing with my friends and it must have fallen out of my pocket. I went home and told my mum and she was so annoyed that she chased me round the table, caught me and walloped me, which I richly deserved. She sent me back out to look for the 10 shilling note, but I never did find it.

We returned to London after the emergency was over, although I can’t remember exactly when this was. The house had been repaired so we able to move back home. I later saw a doodlebug raid with my dad, who wanted me to see it to remind me of what we all went through, but we didn’t have to evacuate again.

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