大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Paul Trainer of Torbay Library Services on behalf of Eileen Jenkins (nee Crowder), and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Jenksins fully understands the site's Terms and Conditions.

My story starts in September 1939, at the outbreak of World War 2. I was aged 6, born in Nottingham, and on holiday in south Devon with my parents and brother, aged 13. My parents (Laurence and Mamie Crowder) favoured the first 2 weeks in September for their annual holiday, as the weather was always reliable. We travelled by train, our luggage being sent on (in a trunk) 3 weeks in advance. I remember my mother carefully spreading out and packing clothes in the trunk, with tissue paper inserted to save materials from creasing. Then the day arrived for the holiday and there was the thrill of the train journey heading down to the south-west - a lengthy business, excitement mounting as we left Exeter and watched the River widen to the sea at Dawlish Warren and on through Dawlish to Teignmouth station.

During the first week of our holiday War broke out, I think on the Friday of our first week. We were staying at Torbay Mount, a small guest house or hotel run by a Mrs Wallbank, set back off the Dawlish/ Teignmouth road, near the village of Holcombe. I believe it is now a retirement home. My father returned immediately by train to Nottingham where he was a partner in a firm of chartered accountants, and my brother and I remained in Devon with my mother to complete our holiday. My memory is of blackout curtains being hung that night, as apparently we were not allowed to show any lights to the outside world, the significance of which would be hard for me to appreciate at the age of 6.
At the end of our holiday we returned by train to Nottingham. I remember standing in the corridor as we travelled along the seawall from Teignmouth, and feeling very sad at saying 'bye-bye' to the sea where we had had such happy times on the beach. On through the many tunnels to Dawlish, having passed Spray Point which I think had a cafe and putting course (although that might have been in later years when we continued to holiday in the area after the War).

During the War I attended the Nottingham Girls' High School, which consisted of 3 large Victorian houses overlooking the Arboretum, but because of the War they were occupied (by troops, I think) so the school was 'evacuated' to Daybrook House, 3 miles north of Nottingham. This was an elegant residence, with a grand staircase, very conveniently positioned for me as it was only 5 minutes from my home in Woodthorpe, and very near the school playing fields. I knew little of any bombing at that time, but do remember being shown a huge blaze some miles away which was visible from a bedroom window. As well as Daybrook House, part of the school continued in nearby chapel rooms approached by a slope at the side of the building. There was also Ramsdale House, some distance out in the country north of Nottingham, and a number of girls were evacuated there. There was also the possibility of evacuation to Derbyshire, but my father preferred me to remain at home with the family. I was fortunate to have a week at Ramsdale House during a summer holiday and my friends and I had a wild and carefree time playing in the wonderful grounds and were well looked after by teachers. It was there that I saw a tin of fruit salad opened, and marvelled at the bright red cherries that came out!
War memories are of gas masks, ration books, clothing coupons and air-raid sirens. We did have an air-raid shelter built in our garden, but it was never used as such. My brother found it useful for trying chemistry experiments which were not allowed in the house! My father was an ARP warden and did regular duty on a rota with neighbours at a local post. I was allowed to go with him sometimes and join in a game of darts which whiled away an evening, and quite a fuss was made of me so I enjoyed it all.

VE Day doesn't hold memories for me, strangely enough, but VJ Day in August 1945 certainly did. I was on holiday in the Lake District with the family of my best school friend. We stayed on a farm at Grange-in- Borrowdale, near Keswick, on Lake Derwentwater. One day we were swinging happily on a gate across the road and a car approached (not many about in those days) We opened the gate for it and heard from this passing motorist that the War was over. All we could do was catch his ecstatic mood and yell the news at the farm. Everyone shouted and danced in a state of euphoria which I shall never forget.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.