大象传媒

As told by Mr Donald Wharf

WAR IS THREATENED
Slowly but surely, the prospect of war had increased and was thought of as fact. The 'garden fence' talk, for instance, was 'when' never 'if' there's a war, like it had been, but bearing in mind all the sandbags about and the leaflets on 'Air Raid Precautions', no-one could really pretend any more especially with talk about gasmasks. My mother, by nature a practical person, was earnestly planning ahead. This meant, in her case, collecting tinned food such as 'Skipper'sardines - which I loved - then hiding it all in a cardboard box, out of sight, at the back of the larder. I also recall quite a long conversation that she and my grandmother had. Both were convinced that before very long, conscription would be introduced - which led to the question of whether or not my father might have to enlist. This, they agreed in the end, wasn't likely - unless things got terribly bad, then his sugar diabetes, and even his age would probably make little difference. One other obvious sign of the times was the toy shops, all right up to date selling toy guns and, what I liked best of all, grenades that went 'bang' when they landed.

....The 'war talk' intensified, week by week, as spring turned once more into summer. Shelters, and things like evacuation had joined the agenda by then - not that I understood all what was said but, nevertheless, I listened. Someone, a neighbour from up the road who knew about Anderson shelters, claimed he had recently put one in as a favour for one of his friends. Then he described how it filled up with water in only a matter of days! Evacuation, of course, wasn't funny: the thought of it made me despair. I couldn't believe they would send me away to 'somewhere safe in the country' when London was in for some real excitement, according to most of the neighbours. Also, of course, I hated the thought of waving my mother 'goodbye' and having to leave all my friends behind and everyone else I'd grown up with.

The Anderson shelters arrived that summer - in pieces, outside on the pavement. Oddly enough, it was only then that I realised how tiny our house was: everything had to be taken through it in order to get to the garden. Luckily, there was a sheet of instructions enclosed in a canvas bag which held all the small bits, like nuts and bolts, as well as a long armed spanner. Digging the hole was first on the list - it had to be three feet deep - but thanks to the neighbours it didn't take long, and then they were building the shelter! It turned out that all but the oldest men had sorted themselves into gangs: some, like the younger ones, did all the digging, while others assembled the shelters. Lastly, the women and children joined in: we heaped all the soil back on top. That, on reflection, was really the start of a new found community spirit - something which most of us only experience in times of a national crisis.

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