大象传媒

Being almost 5 years of age when World WarII broke out, I have many childhood recollections spread over the full six terrible years. Not that they were terrible for me, I was young enough to enjoy most of them. Even, much later in the war, hearing that Uncle Norman was taken prisoner of war didn鈥檛 strike this young boy as being anything but an exciting, real life adventure, although I recall mother crying. That didn鈥檛 detract me from boasting that I had an uncle in a prisoner of war camp.

At the outbreak of war I was living with my parents and two younger brothers in Todd鈥檚 Buildings, an end terraced house, in the small village of Shawforth, made up of several row of stone built terraced houses, a small primary school, a Methodist Chapel hiding the railway station, Mrs Clegg鈥檚 grocers shop, the lamp-oil shop, a factory and a wooden hut housing the local chip shop. All of this was spread, mostly, along one side of the road that joined the towns of Bacup and Rochdale in the north east of Lancashire, the other side of the road housed an extremely high stone wall, behind which lay the railway track.

My war really began with the ice cream van that regularly stopped at the top of our street ceasing to appear and the Cadbury finger of chocolate my brother Colin and I often fought over no longer being available at Mrs Clegg鈥檚 corner shop. Sweets were on ration and no longer on display.

These weren鈥檛 the only disappointments of being at war. The time we received our gas masks caused some upset. Mine was a boring black one whilst Colin鈥檚 was a Mickey Mouse type, mainly red in colour. I have vivid memories of the gas mask for baby Derek, my youngest brother, arriving some time after ours. It was a monstrous thing in which the baby had to be placed. At first, my parents had no idea how it worked. Both mum and dad tried to think of a way it fit it over Derek鈥檚 head in a similar way to the way we wore ours. This only caused frustration and argument. When dad eventually found and read the instructions it became apparent the baby had to be placed inside. Both were still agitated but when they eventually placed Derek inside he screamed for all he was worth. Mum got more frustrated, refusing to place him inside and dad鈥檚 insistence that should a gas attack occur Derek would have to go inside, didn鈥檛 help. I of course kept getting in the way and eventually was sent off to bed. I never ever discovered whether or not Derek was ever successfully placed inside. As the gas attack never came the wretched thing spent the early part of the war on the top of the wardrobe, never to be taken down.

An air raid shelter made of red brick was built on some spare land in front of a row of houses set back from the main road, one street lower down than ours. The rectangular building was topped off with a six inch layer of concrete. A small office, attached to the shelter, served as the ARP Post. I can remember queuing outside with mother and Colin plus our gas masks. When we arrived at the front of the queue one of the ARP wardens took our gas masks and added another filter, fixing it with sticking plaster, the type used for first aid.

I spent some time with my grandmother Hurst, (my mother鈥檚 mother) being her favourite grandson, (so I鈥檝e since been told) and recall having to be perfectly quiet whilst granddad tuned this large battery powered radio in to the news. I remember well the high pitched whistle that lowered in tone to something of a growl as granddad turned the tuner nearer to the spot on the small dial where the station lay. Then the news, giving the progress of the war, came filtering into the room. Colin and I sat under the large kitchen table trying to play quietly so as not to annoy granddad. I only ever rebelled once, shouting to grandma, 鈥淚鈥檓 fed up of being quiet!鈥� Granddad shot out of his chair unbuckling his heavy leather belt and withdrawing it from around his waist, at the same time blustering through the thick moustache that half covered his mouth, 鈥淚鈥檒l not have a child speak that way to me.鈥� Grandma鈥檚 generously proportioned figure was not built for fast movement but she certainly moved fast on that occasion, placing herself between her favourite grandson and her irate husband. Eventually, the tiger was subdued and I played very, very quietly under the kitchen table with my brother Colin.

As the war progressed we moved from Shawforth to another small village a mile or so nearer to Bacup, called Britannia. Once we had settled in, mum went across to the co-op store and registered for our weekly ration of food. The local corner shop didn鈥檛 like this at all. For sometime, if we called in for an item not then on ration the shop keeper would make some comment about going where we had placed our ration books. Eventually, mother had very strong words with the owner and his victimisation stopped for a while. The local newspaper shop was equally as nasty. Together with mum we called in to order the Dandy and Beano comics for us to read. At first we were told there were no comics available but mother insisted. Eventually we came away with two comics, 鈥楥hips鈥� and 鈥楥omic Cuts鈥�. What did appear rather strange after being told it would be at least another year before any of the more popular comics became available, the day dad placed a regular order for his newspaper another more popular comic miraculously appeared, the 鈥楩ilm Fun鈥�. We then had three comics coming into our house, as the oldest I got the 鈥楩ilm Fun鈥�. I can鈥檛 remember when we first received the ultimate in comic reading material, the Dandy and Beano but it was well into the war years.

On day, I was playing in the street with some of my friend when a rather strange looking van pulled up. The rear was opened to reveal a small screen, like the one in the cinema, about a third of the way down the van. The men seemed quite busy popping in and out of a side door, obviously preparing something. Our curiosity got the better of us so we asked. 鈥淲hat are you doing?鈥� They explained, they were preparing to give a film show right there in our street. Colin and I rushed home to tell mum who didn鈥檛 really believe us until a loud speaker announced the forthcoming event. They seemed to take forever setting up the equipment. People came out of their houses and gathered behind the van chatting freely to each other and apparently just as mystified as were we as to why a free film show had suddenly turned up in our street.. The film show began with a newsreel, as it so often did in the cinema. The only difference was, that turned out to be the entire show, a newsreel. We asked if there had any cartoons but they hadn鈥檛 any with them. However they did promise to bring some along next time.

They did return some time later but never brought any cartoons. I only recall them returning for a third time. I bet that鈥檚 when they brought the cartoons, unfortunately we were away from home so I missed that show altogether.

One summer鈥檚 day I was playing out on the street when the extremely loud roar of a very powerful engine filled the air. Across the main road, at the bottom of our street, lay a dirt track road and travelling towards me was the largest gun I鈥檇 ever seen, mounted on the top of a steel monster I knew to be a tank. The tank was churning up the dirt road scattering dust everywhere, then, instead of coming across the main road into our street as I鈥檇 expected, it slewed around on the cobbled road and roared off in the direction of Bacup. I ran to the bottom of our street only to see a second tank coming up the dirt road and following the other towards Bacup. I recall walking into the road with other onlookers marvelling at the marks left by the tank in the hard cobbled road.

Our house, on Earnest Street, was the end terraced house right next to the playing field set before Britannia Primary School. I walked across the field each day and entered the school via the girl鈥檚 yard, which was at the front of the school. The boys鈥� yard was at the rear. Those pupils in the infant part of the school shared the play yard with the girls. We had to take our gas masks to school so that we could have 鈥榞as mask drill鈥�. I soon learnt that when the gas mask was fitted correctly on your face, if you breathed out heavily the air would be forced out of the sides of the mask making a rather rude noise. We also practiced going to the air raid shelter when the school siren sounded and waiting there until the all clear was given. It was great fun, far better than lessons. We all sat on wooden slatted benches. It always seemed cold in the air-raid shelter, even in summer.

One day whilst at school, several men with acetylene burners began taking down the iron railing that surrounded the school. We were told to stay well away whilst the men did their job and several older girls were instructed to see we did. The men were taking away our railings to make weapons for the soldiers. However, the railings that separated the boys play area from the girls was kept in place. It was strange being in a school play area without a physical boundary and it took me some time before I became fully accustomed to it. I learnt that Derek decided to come to school one day and as the railings no longer prevented him he actually arrived in school. My brother Colin was sent to fetch mother who hadn鈥檛 realised he was missing since he was supposed to be asleep on the settee.

Dad never went away to war. As far as I understand his occupation in the cotton industry was classified as being essential to the war effort. However, he did join the Home Guard. I recall watching them drilling in my school yard, during the light summer evenings, without a gun or uniform between them. Dad would stay away from home some nights, on fire watching duty, at his factory in Bacup.

I can鈥檛 be sure whether uncle Jack, one of dad鈥檚 brothers, was in the army or the Home Guard. I remember him coming once to visit us dress in his uniform and carrying his rifle. I don鈥檛 know how it came about but I recall him chasing mother around the table and out into the street with his rifle. He was laughing and screaming at the same time. Something in the back of my mind tells me he was either home on leave or just returning to his unit, so I guess he may have been a regular soldier.

One Christmas Day, I was taken ill. Everyone suspected I鈥檇 eaten too many sweets or Christmas pudding. Mother knew better, there weren鈥檛 that many to be sick over. Like many families in those days, mum had her large medical book containing symptoms and possible treatment for every known decease. It didn鈥檛 take long before her worst fears were realised. The small white speck at the back of my throat suggested I had contracted diphtheria, the very deadly infection that took the lives of many children in those days. An ambulance arrived at the door and I was taken to hospital. No one came with me, just the driver and a young attractive nurse by the name of Lou Lou. On the way we were stopped by a police motor cyclist for speeding. The nurse asked me to lie still and say nothing, which I did, both because I was afraid of the policeman and because I felt too sick to do otherwise. The policeman entered the ambulance, my eyes were closed but I could sense him looking over me, then he left and we sped on our way. Nurse Lou Lou explained much later that she and the ambulance driver were at a hospital party when the call came and they were rushing to get back. They told the policeman I was an emergency case so we received a police escort the rest of the way to the hospital.

My other two brothers also contracted the decease and ended up in the same ward as me. I didn鈥檛 know at the time but it was an isolation ward. Mother made three dolls, a soldier, sailor and airman, one for each of us. When we finally left hospital all our cloths were burnt and so were the dolls. We were asked to leave the dolls for other sick children to play with; we didn鈥檛 know they would be destroyed.

Early in the war years, we had an extremely cold winter. A mill lodge not far from the house became frozen over. The ice was so thick that a large portion of the Britannia population turned out to skate on the ice. Dad took Colin and me down and we had a great time. I can鈥檛 recall whether mother came later or stayed at home. However, the following year the winter was not so severe. Never-the-less, the mill lodge froze over. A little girl from a house near by, remembering the previous year, walked out onto the thin ice and drowned. The whole village was devastated. I recall the police visiting our school and telling us the sad story and warning us against walking out on frozen lodges, lakes or ponds. I never saw the lodge ever freeze over quite like it did that winter, and I would never have walked on the ice even if it had.

We eventually moved from Britannia to Bacup, this time to a lovely modern council house, built just prior to the commencement of the war, over looking the town of Bacup, and called Fair View. The house was stone fronted had three bedrooms a bathroom and an inside toilet. We鈥檇 always bathed every Friday night in the large tin bath that had to be brought indoors and manually filled with clean hot water then manually emptied before returning to its hook on the wall outside.

Number 40 Fair View had a garden back and front which meant the potential of improving our diet with fresh home grown vegetables. Most of the neighbours grew their own vegetables so we did the same. Later dad built a hut and fenced part of the back garden off to raise chickens for producing eggs. We once tried raising day old chickens under a lamp in the kitchen but they all died. Occasionally a chicken would appear on the dinner table at weekend. I never seemed to associate the reduction of one chicken in the pen with the one on the table. If I did it certainly didn鈥檛 seem to cause much concern.

Moving to Fair View meant a new school and new friends. It also meant for the first time I would become aware of religious difference. Jack and Tommy Murray, my new friends next door went to a different school than me. I went to the protestant Thorn Central School and they went to the Roman Catholic, St Mary鈥檚 School on the other side of town. The Catholic School finished earlier each day than Central School which caused some concern for the protestant pupils. It meant they had time to cross from the other side of town and be waiting outside the school gate for the boys when they left to go home. Invariably the first boy out of school would run back inside shouting, 鈥淭he Catholics are coming.鈥� It could not have been more frightening had he declared, 鈥淭he Germans are coming.鈥� Teachers were informed and the Catholic threat would disperse after being informed their head teacher was about to be contacted. Meanwhile, most of the protestant pupils remained behind until the threat was over. I couldn鈥檛 understand their concern. After all, Jack and Tommy Murray were my friends and were only there to walk home with members of our gang.

Jack was the self appointed most senior officer of the Fair View Gang and Colin and I were recruited into membership. We marched up and down the road in front of the house or on the field across from the house with the other members of the gang, some wearing tin helmets and everyone carrying a stick or a stave to represent a gun. We learnt to make gang huts by digging a large hole in the field, building a small wall on all sides of the hole, leaving a gap for the door, creating a roof using an old bedstead or laths of wood or metal strips and finally covering the whole thing with the turf we鈥檇 dug up to make the hole. Sometimes we鈥檇 build a fire inside but not very often as we would invariably have to abandon the hut because the smoke was too intense.

It was intended that a second row of houses would be built across the other side of the road from our houses. The foundations were dug and built but the war began so work was stopped. The builders simply placed a solid concrete roof over the lot and called them air-raid shelters. The boys and some girls of fair view had found ways of entering the shelters and using them as play areas. All the time we lived in Fair View, they were never used as air-raid shelters, but they were regularly used as play areas.

All our training and gang hut building had a purpose; we were at war with the Thorn Bank Gang. On the other side of the large open field in front of our houses lay Thorn Bank. One of the largest families on the estate was the Hawkin family. The Thorn Bank gang was made up mainly of the Hawkin boys plus several of their neighbours. Why we were always at war with them I never found out.

Members of our gang were assigned to keep an eye on the other side of the field and warn the remaining members when ever the Thorn Bank Gang entered the field. Once the alarm had been raised, we filled our pockets with stones, donned our tin hats and walked out to meet them around centre field. Once within throwing distance the battle commenced. Injured members were treated by the girl members of the gang who posed as nurses. We won the battle if we chased them back off the field and into Thorn Bank. We lost if they chased us onto Fair View Road.

There were times when our invincible leader decided it was time to declare war on Thorn Bank. Since they very rarely played on the field most battles had to be pre-arranged. This was done by shaping clay we鈥檇 dug out of the ground into a hollowed out hand grenade, baking it in the back oven in one of our kitchens, when the grenade was dried out we would place inside a note giving time and place of the impending battle then a volunteer would sneak across the field and throw the grenade into the road where members of their gang were playing. The volunteer was accompanied by two or three other members each with a pocket full of stones just in case there was an ambush waiting.

One major problem faced the members of Fair View Gang; Bob鈥檚 Chip Shop was situated at the bottom of Thorn bank. The problem was resolved by a peace treaty to which both sides agreed. Under the protection of a white flag, Jack Murray went to talk to Paddy Hawkins, the Thorn Bank Leader. They agreed that Bob鈥檚 Chip Shop was neutral territory. Their members could equally under threat if more than one of our gang were at the Chip Shop together.

If a medal became available to anyone in the gang it had to be awarded for brave acts by Jack, our leader. We often fought more aggressively if a medal was in the offering.

In 1944 a German song was translated into English and became quite popular. Our Gang adopted 鈥楲illi Marlene鈥� as our song because we believed it had been captured from the Germans. We would never accept the possibility of anything German becoming popular in Britain, but if it was captured it became a trophy of war.

One day, we were each given a letter at school to take home to our parents. It appeared that children from London were being moved north and the government were looking for families to take them in. My brothers and I though it would be a good idea to have a girl come into our home. She would do the washing up and generally house cleaning whilst mum was out at work. This would give us more playing out time. Plus since girls were built differently than boys and having one in our house that didn鈥檛 mind us seeing their difference might be fun. Mum said, 鈥淣o!鈥�
She gave me the letter with the 鈥楴o鈥� box ticked. I rubbed out mum鈥檚 tick and put in my own. I told mum I鈥檇 lost the letter and Mr Goddard had said be would expect my mum to agree being a very kind lady. She wrote back agreeing to take an evacuee and expressing appreciation for his kind remarks. Mr Goddard never saw her letter.

The evacuees arrived; we had not been allocated a girl. Much to our dismay and my mother鈥檚 irritation, we had been allocated a young boy and his mother. It was not a good situation and was only tolerated by my mother. Eventually they moved into their own rented house in Shawforth.

I recall dad coming home one evening and saying Manchester was being heavily bombed. From the front door you could see the glow of the burning city in the distant sky line. It was claimed that Bacup did receive one bomb but it never exploded.

There was a saying in those days, 鈥淲aste not Want not.鈥� Nothing was wasted. Across the road from our houses 鈥楽will Bins鈥� had been placed a strategic points along the way. Each house had a bucket or some other container into which was thrown any left over food. Periodically the container was carried across the road and placed in the swill bin, to be collected by a farmer who fed the swill to his pigs.

In South Street, Bacup a large restaurant was opened for the workers and servicemen. It was named 鈥楾he British Restaurant鈥�. Children were allowed to have a meal there if accompanied by an adult. I loved going to the restaurant for a meal. It was better than eating at school. The food was better, and the noisy, smoke filled dining area seemed warm and friendly. People greeted each other with a smile, laughed and joked and generally enjoyed each others company in a relaxed and friendly atmosphere.

A visit to the cinema matinee on a Saturday afternoon during the war cost 4d admission in the cheapest seats at the Regal and 6d in the best. Saturday matinees always had the same format, a cartoon, a short, a main feature and a serial episode. Cartoons were usually from the Disney stable, shorts usually had an informative element like the Pete Smith Specials which we loved, the main features were either a western (cowboy) starring Roy Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy (who always ordered Sarsaparilla at the bar, at which the baddy then laughed, resulting in a gun fight where Hopalong shot the gun out of the baddy鈥檚 hand.) or Tex Ritter, a comedy starring Bud Abbot & Lou Costello, Laurel & Hardy, or British comedians like Old Mother Riley with her daughter Kitty, the serial could be Flash Gordon or Zorro.. We received 6d pocket money so we usually went in the 4d seats and spent the 2d on something to eat. One shop in Bacup sold 鈥榦ff-the-ration鈥� sweets. They looked like caramel sweets wrapped in white paper but tasted more like candle tallow. Other times we called in at the health shop and bought dried bananas. They didn鈥檛 taste like bananas but since we couldn鈥檛 recall ever seeing a banana it didn鈥檛 really matter. Occasionally we would pool our money and buy a packet of Rowntrees cocoa then try to persuade mum to let us have some sugar to make a cocoa dip.

During the week the two local cinemas, the Regal and the old theatre converted to a cinema and called the Empire, had two main feature films each week. The first showed twice nightly on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The second was twice nightly on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Whenever we could get the money we would go to the first house at least twice a week.

Friday night, Dad went out Union collecting and we stayed in with mum. We would clear the table after eating, wash the pots, fill the coal bucket and turn off the light then in the firelight glow we鈥檇 listen to the radio. Our favourite programme was Valentine Dyal as the 鈥楳an in Black鈥� telling stories in his very deep and scary voice. Other radio programmes we loved were Tommy Hanley鈥檚 ITMA, Worker鈥檚 Playtime, Just William, Dick Barton Special Agent and Family Favourites. Of course, the news was always listened to by our parents and one news reader in particular became very popular. His name was Wilfred Pickles. How ever hard he tried he couldn鈥檛 totally hide the fact that he was a north of England lad. His accent somehow seemed to win through. This was quite unusual for the 大象传媒 to have some one at that time who spoke with a regional accent. Perhaps that was what made him popular.

During the latter part of the war, the small bedroom was out of bounds leading up to Christmas. Dad spent many hours in the room but we had no idea what he was doing until Christmas morning. In the living room were two bicycles, one for Colin and one for me. We couldn鈥檛 take them outside until dad had adjusted the seat and handle bars to account for our size. No matter how much he adjusted mine, I couldn鈥檛 reach the peddles from the seat. I really couldn鈥檛 care less; I鈥檇 have a o at riding it anyway. Colin鈥檚 bike was much smaller so he was fine. Eventually a solution was found; the peddles would be built up with blocks of wood. We were so proud of our bikes it wasn鈥檛 until some time later when a jealous boy who was refused a ride pointed out the bike was hand painted so it wasn鈥檛 a new one. Uncle Dan, not a real uncle, a close friend of the family had been a keen cyclist prior to the war and had a hut full of bicycle parts. He had given dad enough parts to make up the two cycles. Dad had managed to get some paint from somewhere, probably work, and hand painted them. It didn鈥檛 cause me any real concern that my precious bicycle was second hand. Very few of my friends had a bike of their own, new or otherwise.

One Saturday, mum, dad and we three boys had taken a trip to Burnley to do some shopping. As we passed by the Burnley Vic Theatre, who should be the star attraction, none other than the famous news reader, Wilfred Pickles. Mum suggested to dad that we go to the matinee performance. Dad left us to see if there were any spare seats. He returned with tickets for seats in the gods. To gain access to those dizzy heights meant we had to enter the theatre around the back and climb, what seemed to be an eternal stairway. Once at the top we entered the theatre and faced the steepest steps leading down to the seats I鈥檇 ever seen. Mum wasn鈥檛 too impressed and made it known to dad. This balcony, being the third level was high up that the backs of the seats in front of us were almost at floor level. Had I swung my legs I might have kicked the person in front in the back of the head. The show had a variety of performers only two of which I can now remember. Just before the interval, the loud speakers boomed, 鈥淭his is the 大象传媒 Home Service; the news will be read by Wilfred Pickles.鈥� He came on stage walking down front to the microphone and proceeded to tell stories that made the audience laugh. I recall a rather strange sensation at the thought of seeing someone for the first time who I had known as a bodiless voice on the radio.

The interval came and went and the next performance began. I couldn鈥檛 understand at first why mum had become so angry with dad. I thought it might have something to do with the fact that much of what was going on seemed to be out of view since being so high up we were prevented from seeing the upper part of some ladies standing or sitting on white columns. The scene kept changing and an announcer was describing each performance as a works of art. Colin and I kept bending down to try to see what was going on, which only made mum more angry with dad and both tried to prevent us bending down saying we would fall. The whole scene was positively boring. Along with mum, we were glad when the whole performance was over. Several years later I discovered what the fuss was all about. In those days, nude shows were only permitted if the performers didn鈥檛 move and therefore were deemed to be a work of art. I鈥檇 attended my first and only nude show and didn鈥檛 even know it.

Having moved to Bacup, dad transferred to the Bacup branch of the Home Guard. Eventually they were fully kitted out with uniform and guns. I recall one day a big event taking place between the Home Guard and a regiment of regular soldiers on Bacup Rec. The Rec. was a recreation area at the very top of a large hill. It had a football field and bowling greens as well as children鈥檚 slide, swings, etc. In a field near by the public were invited to witness a mock battle and afterwards view various guns and vehicles. The whole event ended in a march past in the centre of town. I recall marching along the pavement at the side of my dad until a policeman returned me to my mother.

One day, at school, we were told the Americans had sent over food parcels for each family. The most important item from a young boy鈥檚 point of view was the drinking chocolate. No one knew it could be made into a drink. As far as we were concerned this was the best cocoa dip we鈥檇 ever tasted. I don鈥檛 know what other items were included in the food parcel but the dip was so milky and sweet, it reminded me of sitting under grandma鈥檚 kitchen table sucking slowly on slim bars of Cadburys chocolate, just before war was declared.

I recall our first bonfire when war was over. Our gang set out to gather wood for the big celebration. The trouble was, none of us could ever remember going to a bonfire before in our lives. We had had several camp fires and understood a bonfire was bigger but we had no idea of how big. Our first attempt was far from the ideal. Eventually, several of our fathers cut down the largest and oldest tree in the grounds of a nearby derelict old mansion house referred to as Gallagher鈥檚 Place. The trunk of the tree burnt for several days.

King George VI sent a message to every child in the country. It was embossed with gold and other coloured lettering. We hung mine on the bedroom wall. It stayed there for a long time and unfortunately disappeared, possibly when we eventually moved back to Britannia after the war.

The War Years were very hard for many people, especially those who lost loved ones, had their homes and possessions destroyed, saw their businesses crumble due to shortages and those who experienced none of those but had sons or husbands away fighting and had to suffer the uncertainty as to whether they would ever see them again. My war was free from any of those extremely distressing experiences. Uncle Norman was rescued and returned home safely, I don鈥檛 think uncle Jack left the country. I only suffered a stone hitting me on the head during one of our gang wars and Freda Smith, in here nurses outfit, wanting to nurse me back to health. I suppose I was almost an outside observer, occasionally looking in. So you see, WWII wasn鈥檛 bad for me, in fact, I still have many happy memories of the time. However, we mustn鈥檛 ever lose sight of the fact that thousands didn鈥檛 have a happy war and many paid the ultimate price for the freedom we experience today.

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