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I spent most of my formative years with various families. This was because I was without my natural parents - I lived the majority of the time with my grandparents in Crawley and sometimes with an aunt who lived in Caterham in Surrey.

The Second World War commenced in 1939, my memory started in the following year when I was eight years old. When the full realisation that there was a war became a reality in May of 1940. I’d spent time in various children’s homes at the time I was either in a hospital or an establishment relating to children’s welfare close to the south coast area. It was a bright sunny day in May and there was suddenly a great deal of activity. Brown coloured vehicles with large red crosses on their sides seemed to be all around the building. Stretchers were carried in, quite a few in fact, each with a figure swathed in bandages. We children were swiftly rounded up and shepherded in to an area that was considered safe. I was shortly moved to Crawley to live with my grandparents. Although I was not aware at the time the soldiers I had seen were the casualties of the withdrawal from Dunkirk — France.

The weather in 1940 was beautiful, lovely warm summer days and the countryside became the playground of all the adventuresome children of the area. I was my brother’s keeper and his pushchair was his mode of transport. Wherever I went the pushchair containing my baby brother came too.

The Battle of Britain commenced in earnest later that year, there was a field quite close to where I lived there was a gang of us who found their way there. I think an added attraction was a lake that was concealed by trees. When the aerial war got under way, I remember laying on my back with the rest of my friends, watching the dog fights. The vapour trails weaved across the sky, and occasionally you could hear the distinct sound of canon fire. I don’t think we could distinguish the different opponents. Any plane that was seen in trouble leaving the combat area was always German. There was great excitement on one occasion when one lad found a spent cannon shell in a field. I believe he was relived of his booty and received a lecture on the dangers of picking up strange objects. Butterfly bombs were dangerous items; the Germans jettisoned them across the countryside and towns. They were to be left alone as they could inflict serious injury. Although I do recall that most small boys organised butterfly bomb hunting parties. Thank goodness we never found any!

Patriotic posters appeared as if by magic, Dig for Victory, Careless Talk Costs Lives and Buy Victory Saving Bonds were on any vacant walls and the sides of buses.

A Spitfire Fighter aeroplane and a Churchill Tank were displayed on the town square, it was a great day for all the boys in the town - I don’t think that there was any part of the exhibits that was not examined in detail by us all. The war had not affected me personally at this stage and seemed to be happening to other people.

Occasionally I was packed off to Caterham to stay at my Aunt’s in Cromwell Road, which was situated on the outskirts of the town, not far from the Guards Depot, Kenly Aerodrome was quite close. It was not unusual to see our fighters returning from action. Some were quite badly damaged and there were some that trailed smoke, others you could see straight through the fuselage the gaping holes caused by combat in the Battle of Britain. I think it was about this time that the war was becoming a reality.

I think that rationing was the reason for my acceptance that there was a war on! Most young boys have continual hunger syndrome. Even when you have consumed a meal a short while later you could repeat the process. Monday mornings were extremely important, armed with a 3d piece I was dispatched to the bakers at the end of Alpha Road to purchase 2d worth of stale buns and bread. The baker gave me a fresh bread roll. It is still the most wonderful bread roll I have ever tasted! The stale items were soaked in water and then revitalised into bread pudding. Due to the rationing there were many ways that people found to make the ration of meat and bacon go a long way. When we had bacon, a suet pudding bacon and onion roll was quite nice; it ensured that we all got a taste of bacon.

The blitz was the next phase of the war, at night the German bombers could be heard as they droned towards London. One night I was having a restless time unable to get to sleep. Grandfather called me downstairs. We went out to the back yard and he pointed to the sky and I could see that it was very red. He explained that it was London burning I can still remember that red glowing sky. The war was beginning to become personal.

As the war progressed there were various ways that the civilian population were requested to save fuel. Our local school changed the time of our arrival at school I think it was an hour later than usual. This meant that the heating boilers were not required till later.

I was due to go to school one morning, I was standing in the yard when I heard a roaring sound. Looking up I could see a German bomber; it was so low I am sure I could see the screws in the wings. My world did a somersault; my grandfather had grabbed me from behind. I sailed into the house up two steps and finished up under the kitchen table. There was a colossal explosion, when it had eventually quietened down and Grandfather suggested that I go to school. The school was about half a mile away, it was only when I left the road our house was on that I realised that something was amiss. I crossed the main Crawley to Horsham main road and started walking up the road where the school was. As I progressed it was obvious that somewhere up ahead, considerable damage had been inflicted. Houses on each side of the road were extensively damaged. Eventually I got to the school or what was left of it! It had received a direct hit and all that was left was a gigantic crate - the school had been totally obliterated.

I found myself back at Caterham. There are large tracts of common land in the area. It was a haven for young fold of my age. Trees of the climbing type were in abundance. The cleverer types even built tree houses. Imagine our consternation when we arrived one day to be confronted by an enormous soldier complete with a large rifle and bayonet. He informed us that the common was off limit for the duration.

Flying bombs were the next inconvenience, the wretched things made a most unpleasant sound. I suppose it’s only saving grace was the fact that whilst you could hear the engine you were reasonably safe, however when the engine stopped that’s when your problems would start as I found to my cost. I was quite tall for my age and on occasions it was useful. Bastables was a fish merchant in Crawley; I discovered that they were looking for a likely lad to use their trade bicycle to deliver fish to their customers in outlying areas. Having passed the interview with flying colours, I started my duties immediately. However, the bicycle was a relic from the start of the date that the wheel had been invented. Large, cumbersome and not designed for young lads who have grandiose schemes to become the contestant in the land speed record! One particular day I had to make my way out towards an area known as Ifield, I think I had completed my deliveries and was leisurely making my way along a country lane. I had a very good view to my left, the sky was suddenly filled with grey puffballs, followed by bangs. This was anti aircraft gunfire. Through the gunfire there appeared a flying bomb. It was flying straight in my direction, suddenly the engine cut out - I saw a ditch and lay down and pulled the bike on top of me. The explosion was quite loud and there was debris coming from everywhere. As suddenly as everything had happened there was complete and utter silence. Eventually the police, fire service and an ambulance arrived. Everyone was very concerned, I was loaded into the ambulance and whisked away to the Cottage Hospital. Given a good check over and put to bed. I was taken home later and immediately bundled into bed.

Shortly after that at the age of 12 I found myself in Droitwich in an orphanage, The Edward Paul Memorial Home for Waifs and Strays. The Raven Hotel in Droitwich was the billet for WAAFS. They were very kind to the boys in the home. They used to organise a Christmas Party for all. I have always thought they were all pretty wonderful people.

This story was submitted to the People’s War website by Diana Wilkinson of the CSV Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Hereford and Worcester and has been added to the site with Mr Stanley Hunt’s permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

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