大象传媒

My Boyhood Wartime Memories.

I was just 8 years old on the day that war was declared on Sept 3rd 1939. That day I left for school not having been told anything by my parents. Our route to school from our house, on The Davis Estate in Leagrave, a suburb of Luton took us across a track, which passed a blacksmiths shop. We often dallied to watch huge shire horses being shod. On this particular day, not much work was taking place. The Blacksmith and his Striker, together with some local farmhands were discussing the momentous announcement. To my companions and I, this seemed to be exciting news, little did we realise what an effect it was to have on our lives.

I cannot recall the exact date but very soon afterwards, our school timetable was severely disrupted, evacuees were being sent from London and needed to be accommodated in our school. At first we had to go on alternate days, the Vaccy鈥檚, as we called them, taking the in-between days. This lasted for a while, then we changed to alternate Mornings and Afternoons. This did not last long because many of the evacuee鈥檚 returned to London and our classes were just enlarged to accommodate us all. I seem to recall that during the war period most classes had more than 40 pupils the highest I remember was 48. I heard much later that one of those Evacuees was the comedy actor Dennis Williams

At the beginning of hostilities, air raid sirens were sounded over much of England as soon as German Aircraft approached the coast; this meant that we were constantly filing down into the dank underground shelters. Later the sirens were only sounded when the aircraft were much closer, nevertheless we spent a considerable time in the shelters. One of the ways of passing the time was making a length of woven wool. This was achieved with the aid of a cotton reel, on the end of which 4 nails were driven, spaced around the central hole. The wool, garnered from odd leftovers from mothers workboxes, with the aid of a sort of crochet hook was looped over the nails in turn, casting off as in knitting, this formed a long woven sausage. The purpose of this was more to keep us occupied than any practical use, although if enough was made it could be stitched Swiss Roll style, to a cloth backing to make a sort of table mat. Pom Poms were also made with the aid of two milk bottle tops, which at that time were circular cardboard discs with a hole in the middle.

Our school, opened in 1937, had spacious grounds and so, like the grown ups we were
encouraged to 鈥淒ig for Victory鈥� and a part of the playing field was dug over and planted with vegetables. These were later sold in aid of school funds.

At home my Father was also doing his bit, at the rear of our houses was a strip of land, which had belonged to Estate Developers. The local Council decided to mark off this land as allotment plots, and those who wished to, could take over the piece to the rear of their gardens. This father did and kept us in a plentiful supply of vegetables throughout the war and beyond. Further back from this strip was a boggy overgrown area, which bordered the River Lea. My father had a yen to keep Chickens and Rabbits so without a bye your leave acquired some rough timber and fenced the area (Some 30 years later, he with the aid of a solicitor, claimed that land by 鈥淪quatters Rights鈥�).
He then found a supply of brick rubble to raise the whole area, which was prone to flooding. Various ramshackle buildings were constructed with my reluctant help, to which over a period of time, Chickens, Ducks, Rabbits, a Goat and some hives of Bees were added.
At that time one could give up your egg ration in exchange for a supply of chicken meal, this was enough to keep 5 or 6 chickens. My father then hit on an idea to increase his flock and encouraged neighbours to apply for the feed ration and he kept the chickens for them, supplying them with eggs in return, needless to say the chickens produced more eggs than he allowed their owners. The surplus was bartered for other short supply items.
I think it was the summer of 1940 when we had a crop of huge onions, then in very short supply, my Mother gave single ones away as Christmas presents with a pink bow tied around their necks, the local butcher was also appreciative of such a gift and reciprocated in kind.
Luton had its fair share of bombing, the first I remembered was a daylight raid on The Vauxhall motor works which, from a distance, I observed on my way home from school. A little later I witnessed a Stuka dive-bomber emerge from a cloud and release a single bomb I found later that it hit one of the towns hat factories. One night my parents went to pick up my sister from friends house when the air raid siren sounded. Very soon I heard the unmistakable sound of the radial engines of a German bomber. I grabbed my dog and shot under our billiard table to hear the scream of descending bombs, followed by ever nearing explosions. Luckily only three bombs fell in a line heading straight for our house, had there been five I doubt I would be writing this now. Although Luton had many important industries I suspect that the many bombs that fell on the town were just by accident, probably jettisoned.
As the war continued guided bombs (Doodle Bugs or V1鈥檚) were used. One evening my Father, Mother, and I with our two dogs, and Nanny Goat, went for a walk on a country path near our home. It was a warm overcast summer evening when suddenly we heard the sputtering sound of a Doodle Bug engine heading towards us. When it sounded almost directly overhead. its engine stopped. We all fell to the ground, as we knew that, at that point, the controls were set to aim straight for the ground. We could hear the air rushing over missile but, to our relief it continued over us. The following day we heard on the Radio that a doodlebug had reached the farthest distance into England landing near Northampton, it must have been the one that passed over us.
Not long after this I was to experience the explosion of the next type of Guided weapon the V2.
It was mid morning, in I think 1944, that sat at my desk in Denbigh Rd School Luton, I heard and felt a terrific explosion. Almost immediately our teacher shouted, 鈥済et under your desks鈥� this in great haste, we all did. Very soon the school air raid alarm sounded and as instructed we all filed out to our air raid shelter. As we crossed the playground we were aware of a huge mushroom cloud in the direction of the local gasworks. We all immediately thought that the Gasometer had exploded, as there had been no warning.
The V2 was a supersonic rocket propelled weapon so there was no warning or defence against them. When we later emerged from the shelter we were told that nobody was allowed to leave the school at lunchtime. One of our classmates had very recently joined the school after his home in London had been destroyed. His new home in Luton was in the direction of the explosion so he ignored the instruction to see if his Mother was OK. The V2 had in fact hit part of the Commer truck factory where my father worked and also destroyed a number of houses in an adjoining street. As my fellow pupil approached this street he was stopped by a Policeman but again ignored instructions and found another way around, to find his home a heap of rubble. He rushed to the scene and began digging in the rubble, but some firemen tried to dissuade him. He persisted and so the firemen began to help, eventually his mother was rescued relatively unharmed, and she had been found in a void formed when a fallen ceiling was supported at on end by the staircase.

In the spring of 1944, it became obvious that something big was about to happen. There was much movement of Army traffic through our district, the invasion of Europe, (D Day) was about to begin. After school we would stand by the roadside watching lorries and tanks roll by. One day with a friend we stopped in a lane as we heard Tanks approaching. He had with him his brand new bike (a rarity in wartime) it was his reward for passing the 11 plus exam. The road had a steep grassy bank so we climbed up to get a better view, Peter left his bicycle leaning against the bank, and we were so intent on watching the huge tanks roll by we did not notice that the intense vibration they made, had caused his bike to slip into the path of one of the tanks. When we realised what had happened it was to late, the tank tracks had passed over part of it and bent both wheels the frame etc into almost a right angle, his father was not a happy man.
My family and I emerged from WW2 unscathed but were very aware that there was a war on.
Rationing of most food meant shortages, especially for youngsters who had to exist on 12 ounces of sweets and 1 pound of jam per month. Foreign fruits such as Oranges, Bananas, and peaches were unobtainable. My fathers little smallholding helped a lot as we had plenty of vegetables, Hen & Duck eggs, meat from Rabbits & Chickens, milk from our Goat and honey from our Bees. This kept me busy mucking out the animals, fetching food from the corn merchants, and helping dig and weed the allotment. By the time I was thirteen, towards the end of the war, my father paid me the princely sum of One & Sixpence (12 陆 P) as pocket money.

Apart from this I did my bit for the War effort. At the end of our street was a small parade of shops, a couple of which, at the time, had no tenants. A lady, Mrs Beasley, who lived opposite, obtained permission to use one of them. She enlisted lots of us small boys to collect waste paper, by canvassing all the houses in the district. At that time it was illegal to burn paper. We worked diligently at the job and when the shop was completely full the council was called to take it away for re-pulping. I think we filled that shop at least 3 times, quite a feat since most newspapers consisted of only 6 or 8 page sides. I think the council were paid for this waste and at the end of the war a bus was laid on, and we were taken for a day out at Whipsnade Zoo.

The war in Europe VE Day ended May 7th 1945. On the day the news came through all the kids in our area without any grown up encouragement set about building a celebratory bonfire. Anything combustible was found and piled up on a piece of waste ground. Soon the grown ups seeing our enthusiasm joined in, and saw that it was constructed in a proper manner. By nightfall we had a huge pile, probably 20ft high, other than a few commandeered Home Guard thunder flashes and Verey lights there was no firework display, but a great time was had, cumulating in roasting potatoes in the embers of the fire. Nobody retired to bed until the early hours tired and hoarse from singing and shouting.
We had the final celebration when the Japanese Campaign ended in August 1945.

My schooldays were also over, I started work aged 14 at the Commer truck factory immediately after Christmas that year to see the last of the Army trucks roll off the assembly line.

Michael Neal. Age 72. November 2003

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