大象传媒

3.9.39
I was a civil servant in London telephone service, Cornwall House Waterloo. As soon as gas masks were issued we all went up on the roof to the 鈥済as chamber鈥�, a concrete hut, where we went in wearing the masks and emerged happily. Then we had to go in without the masks but we came out immediately unable to endure it. My eyes were sore for the rest of the day. This gave us confidence in the efficiency of the gas mask.

Battle of Britain
This had no name until well after the war ended. For the first three weeks we all went straight to the basement on arrival and stayed there all day, unravelling and re-knitting woollies, doing crosswords and listening to gramophone records. We were BORED and volunteers most of us 鈥� we were allowed to carry on working and watching the vapour trails overhead.

Blitz
When Somerset House was hit (across the river from Cornwall House) we were asked to go on to our roof to collect every half-burnt scraps of document we could find which were returned to Somerset House. I found one dated 1719 which related to my own Horner family; which I kept!

I can鈥檛 remember when double summertime was introduced but we were allowed to work 8am 鈥� 3pm allowing us to leave home and return in daylight. I had an hours journey (usual nights in shelter, were (playing) cards with neighbours, etc) Sickening stale smell from Tube station every morning, as I picked my way along the platform past picking up blankets from the platform or if lucky one of the metal bunk beds lining the walls.

Collected shrapnel on the way to work every day and returned it to the town hall (Palmer鈥檚 Green) for recycling into munitions at weekends with a group of young people. Collected waste paper from houses in North Circular road. Each house had a small Hessian sack for this purpose and the contents were tipped (and sometimes a mouse too) into our large ones, which we carried on a house decorators hand cart. At the height of the Docks fires, late December 1940 I could see to read a newspaper at midnight and they were 8 miles away.

Fire watching had to go for training to Orange Street behind the National Gallery where with Stirrup pump and bucket each team one on the pump and one directing the jet had to extinguish a lighted candle in a jam jar. I did fire watching at the office once a week and also in my own road. (Ullesworth Road 鈥� on the boundary of Southgate N14 and Palmer鈥檚 Green N13) Dad, Henry Herring was the clerk with LNER and did ARP duty at the tunnel near Hadley Wood Station on the main line from King鈥檚 Cross to the North.

Monday night were often 鈥榪uiet鈥� we heard German bombers droning overhead and knew that the destination was the Midlands or northern city. Any bombs remaining would be dropped on us on their return journey, as we were just outside the perimeter of the six mile radius of the balloon barrage, which forced the planes to fly higher. Mother, Edith Herring sang professionally all her life. St. Boloph鈥檚 Church, Bishop鈥檚 Gate had a male-choir pre-war, so when they received their call up notices, the church advertised for women. Mother applied and was accepted. One Sunday mother, the organist Leonard Warner and his wife, were walking along Oxford Street, bound for lunch at a corner house. They had to climb over rubble and fire hoses and we lucky to pass before the front of the building just before it collapsed across the road behind them, Slate falling from a bombed shop roof miss me by 2 feet. I spent one weekend staying with my dairyman cousin in Lent Rise, Buckinghamshire and returned home with quart of unrationed milk. Raids were very heavy before I reached home and my 29 Bus stopped running and went into it鈥檚 depot behind the Cock Inn at the corner of Green Lanes and North Circular Road. I walked home 15 minutes with shrapnel falling all the time and no tin hat, so I had to put all my weekend hold 鈥攁ll with the milk in it on my head. There was no one around to see. Everyone had meals out when possible, to eke out the ration. I went to a Lyon鈥檚 Corner House every working day, where the menu was unvarying. There were only the same three options a tiny triangle of thin tripe or a tiny piece of fish, for which we were grateful to brave fisherman or I think, but not sure, baked beans. This continued throughout the war.
Dad obtained a big piece of a German land mine which fell at dean鈥檚 yard, Westminster, along with a jagged piece of it鈥檚 green silk woven parachute and short piece of plaited white silk cord. They and several of my official documents are with the imperial war museum.

The blitz ended with the two massive raids 鈥� April 16th 1941 (my 20th birthday) and May 10th, the day Rudolph Hess was captured 1942. I was transferred to Air Ministry HQ, at Adastral House, corner of King鈥檚 Way and Aldwych. In summer 42 we received invasion notices; my classification was 鈥榠mportant鈥� and my instructions were to keep a small suitcase packed and ready, to carry my ministry pass, identity card, gas mask and tin hat at all times. And I was issued with a PQ luggage label which I believe indicated Canada.

Annual holidays were severely restricted. This year I spent my single week at a farm on the Yorkshire coast. After breakfast one day I began counting the ships in a Russian convoy, some flying balloons. I did not see the front of the convoy but it was still passing at that time, when the count was 121! Destroyers patrolled all the time and once I saw a small German plane fly over which was shot down and crashed near a farm house behind Whitby. The three crew parachuted safely, one on land and two in the sea where they were quickly rescued.

My Canadian aunt sent us a packet of tea bags and I snipped off a corner of each and tipped it into our ration quota. The following year, we had only three days annual leave, which we tagged onto a weekend. I worked a nine house day five days a week, four hours Saturday morning, every week and seven hours every 4th Sunday.

I worked in Adastral House, Air Ministry HQ (now St. Katherine鈥檚 House0. It was built to withstand enemy action in the First World War. Staff were allowed to sue a lift if they worked on the third floor or above. I was so entitled and (I think in early 42 but not sure) stood waiting with an officer. When the old style manually operated lift arrived the officer gave a kind of 鈥榟itch鈥� at the lower edge on each side of his jacket and stepped into the lift. I followed the doors closed and we ascended and stopped at the first floor much to my astonishment the officer nodded his thanks to the lift man and walked out. The doors remained open for much longer than necessary and I watched the officer marching down the corridor his arms swinging just like a soldier or parade. I was disgusted and thought one law for officers and another for the rank and file. As the doors closed the lift man said to me 鈥淒o you know who that was?鈥� almost rudely I said NO. He continued. 鈥渢hat was Douglas Bader.鈥� I was filled with amazement and admiration he certainly gave nothing away ever since he had been my inspiration and determination in times of physical pain and problems. He was small man and truly great!

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of Daphne Ibbott and has been added to the site with his permission. Daphne Ibbott fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

This picture is a photocopy of the original owned by the author of this story and not a newspaper clipping. Mrs. ibbott fully understands the sites terms and conditions

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