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This contribution to People’s War was received by the Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Cleveland and submitted to the website by Jane Tombling, with the permission and on behalf of Lea Stocking.

My name is Lea Stocking. I belong to a Readers’ Circle in my local library in Redcar, North Yorkshire and through them was asked to recall my wartime experiences during WW2.

I was born in Brussels, Belgium and was 18 when the War started for us on 10 May 1940. The Germans invaded our country by dropping countless parachutists who immediately seized all the utilities and from that moment we were deprived any news by radio or newspapers; we were completely cut off from news of what was happening, except when we discovered that the ´óÏó´«Ã½ broadcast a special service to the countries that had been invaded.

I must, however, start by saying that I was an only child, living in a flat with my parents. My father was a civil servant and had been told that, in case of war, he was to report to the office with a small suitcase containing a change of clothes and toiletries. I can still see him leaving the house with his small suitcase, but my Mother and myself did not realise that was the last time we were to see him for over 4 years. The department he worked in; The Passport Office, was evacuated, first to the Belgian coast, then by stages, Bordeaux. There he was made to board a small steamer — capacity 300 passengers, but there were over 1,000 refugees on it. After quite a few adventures — pleasant and unpleasant — he was recruited by the Belgian Government in exile in London and worked there for the rest of the war. But of course, my Mother and I knew nothing of this at the time. We did not know if he was alive or dead. It was more than a year later, in 1941, that we received a message through the Red Cross in Geneva informing us that he was alive and in London.

Meanwhile, my Mother and I left on our own in Brussels, had to face life without a salary coming in and the prices of all foodstuffs rocketing alarmingly. I was still at Secretarial College, where no courses were being given; most of the male teachers had left and the Principal — a woman — who was known to be a very left wing socialist, had been arrested by the Germans and never heard of again. It was not until 1941 that my Mother started receiving a small allowance from the state and I had found a job of sorts with the Secour d’Hiver; a German organization set up to help destitute families. My small salary came in very useful. This job only lasted for a year and I was transferred to the Headquarters of FABELTA, a firm producing artificial fibres in about seven factories around Belgium. This was a much more satisfactory employment. I was only a shorthand typist, but at least was safe from being recruited by the Germans for work in Germany in their armament factories, this happened to unemployed young men and women. I never finished my secretarial course.

Life for us was full of uncertainty and fear. There was a resistance movement which sniped at the German Army, blowing up bridges and killing German soldiers, also, later in the war helping British airplane crews who had been shot down over Belgium. Rumours flew around that all the men in one street had been arrested and sent to Germany. Was it true?, we did not know for certain as there was no reliable media, all newspapers and radio stations were controlled and run by the Germans. I saw with my own eyes, a section of a main road running through Brussels, the Rue de la Loi, being cordoned off, and all the men in that section being bundled roughly into military transport. We knew the family of a man who was arrested then. He was thrown into prison, brutally treated and interrogated and eventually released, but others were not quite so lucky and were sent to forced labour in Germany or, worse still, to concentration camps. Every time a killing of German personnel took place, a curfew was instituted for the whole civilian population; everybody had to be in by 7pm. This happened quite a few times during the war.

This was bad enough, but my mother for the first couple of years, also had to deal with the shortage or the total absence of food. Most of the cows had to be culled by the farmers as they could not feed them. Therefore, there was no milk for adults, only for small children, no butter, no margarine and no cheese. There was of course no meat, the butchers’ shops displayed cardboard cut outs of cuts of meat. Bread was still obtainable, but the flour was adulterated by the addition of other things like crushed sugar beet which made the bread sweet and sticky and upset most people’s digestion. But we survived. The outer suburbs of Brussels were, in those days, taken over by small holdings producing vegetables and soft fruit for sale in markets. The small farmers were afraid to go to the town but were quite willing to sell to anybody who came to their door. So, now and again, my Mother and I got on a tram which took us in the country and managed to buy produce like potatoes, carrots and onions and strawberries in season. We carried that load back home in a wash basket and were then assured of a few filling meals, but with no meat, fish or butter to enliven the vegetable stew. Strangely enough we did not put on very much weight!!

We were lucky in Brussels not to suffer any systematic bombing raids, apart from one when towards the end of the war, a flight of American Flying Fortresses were sent over to bomb a large barracks on the outskirts of the town. They managed to miss the barracks completely, but destroyed a whole neighbourhood of houses, killing a number of civilians. Apart from that, again towards the end of the war, whole blocks of houses were destroyed by V1’s and V2’s which fell short of the coast of England. We suffered nothing more than broken windows and considered ourselves very lucky.

Needless to say we followed the progress of the war by listening to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ broadcast in French, something that was strictly forbidden! The first two or three years were very depressing as the Germans seemed to be on top of everything. After Pearl Harbour, when the America joined us, things began to look more hopeful. Also, the situation in Africa changed and the Germans retreated. Then the Allies disembarked in Italy and in June 1944 the Allies landed on the Continent and our joy knew no bounds when we saw that they were advancing through France with little hindrance and very soon Brussels was liberated. Everybody went mad. Including me. I found myself riding on top of an armoured vehicle through the streets of Brussels with some of my friends, not knowing how I had got there. Shortly after that my Father came home from England and life became normal again.

A Grand Liberation Concert was organized and I was asked to sell programmes in the hall. After that was done, I went to sit near some British soldiers and of course got into conversation and several of us exchanged addresses. A few days later I received a letter from a Corporal Sidney Stocking who was in a dental unit based in Brussels’ biggest hospital. I gathered that he felt lonely so I invited him to my home.

We continued seeing each other regularly, going to all the shows organized by ENSA to entertain the troops and their friends. We went to the cinema, cafés and strolled through the city. We found we had a lot in common despite our different nationalities, we liked the same films, the same music; in other words we were courting. We had plenty of time together as Sidney was stationed in Brussels for about six months and then his unit was moved to Holland, and from there to Germany. We corresponded regularly and made plans for the future. I managed to obtain a position as a Secretary in a branch of the Belgian Embassy located in London, which helped Belgian businessmen re-establish their links with foreign manufacturers. The work was very varied and interesting. In April 1946 we were married and, God willing, we will be celebrating our Diamond Wedding in 2006.

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