大象传媒

My World War Two experiences started for me on DAY ONE 鈥� my husband and I were on a tandem cycling holiday in Norfolk, the war talk was grim, so very very early on 3rd September we put our suitcase in at the train station at Great Yarmouth and that was the last we saw of it! Owing to the chaos of soldiers, sailors, evacuees all moving, we lost it and no compensation in those days! We cycled down to London and as we came through Essex all the anti-aircraft balloons were going up 鈥� like giant silver pigs in the sky.

We reached our flat in Peckham, London and my husband immediately left to report to the local Fire Station. We then heard the Prime Minister鈥檚 famous speech and we were AT WAR! Very soon after that the first air-raid siren went off and everyone was startled and shocked. The two old ladies in whose house we rented the top flat for 15 shillings a week, picked up their Grandad鈥檚 Gladstone bag, complete and ready with insurance policies, wills, family photographs plus a bottle of cheap red wine, and rushed down the garden to the Anderson shelter. Very soon the 鈥渁ll clear鈥� went 鈥� it was a false alarm 鈥� and they returned to the house to make Sunday lunch and make plans for future excursions to the shelter in the garden.

The next morning (Monday) I went to work at the local shop where I was employed as a clerk and found the shop all locked up and the staff waiting outside. After a long wait we were told that the owners had packed up and gone (emigrated or evacuated or what? 鈥� we never found out). They were Jewish people, so perhaps they thought that we would be invaded and they would be persecuted as in other countries.

I needed to work as money was short, so got work in another shop until things were sorted out. After a few months as there were no more raids, I got a clerical job back in London. I had always worked in London, but when I married in 1939 my firm鈥檚 policy was not to employ married women! How quaint, as soon as the war started and the men were called up, they were begging us to come back. I joined another City firm, but it was not a happy time as the chief clerk did not like women, also wanted to keep the job for one of his boys, so he made sure none of us enjoyed our work and gradually we all found more pleasant working conditions.

I joined the War Office as a temporary Civil Servant and worked in Whitehall for two years. By this time the air-raids were bad and traveling up to London by train was a real nightmare! You were never sure what time you would arrive there or get back home again. At that time, 1941, we were living in Bexleyheath, Kent. Our flat in Peckham had been bombed and blasted many times, so with no windows or doors left we regretfully had to leave our flat and old ladies and rented a house from a friend who had sent his wife and children away to the country for safety and let the house to us for a pound a week.

One funny incident at Peckham I remember well. One night when raids were very heavy, I was in the Anderson shelter as the two old ladies had insisted I went down too. When the raids got bad they had been at the 鈥渞ed biddy鈥� wine for comfort and after some time their cat walked into the shelter. They blamed each other for not closing the doors and windows properly before leaving the house, but when we got out next morning after the 鈥渁ll clear鈥�, all the back of the house had been bombed blasted and there were no doors or windows left! So that was how Pussy got out!

So now I was working in London and living in Kent and after a while I got tired of filing bits of paper in the War Office and the difficult traveling to and from Kent each day. So I joined the W.N.F.S (Women鈥檚 National Fire Service) and was stationed at East Greenwich Fire Station. IN case of emergency we girls had a flat in the station where we ate and slept (when possible).

Although the hours on duty were long and tiring, we Watchroom Attendants, (Day and Night) managed to enjoy ourselves and felt we were actually helping the war effort. We slept when it was quiet and got called down when it wasn鈥檛! which was very often as our area covered Greenwich and Woolwich with the Arsenal and Docks which Jerry bombed repeatedly!

By that time (January 1943) we were getting tired. I had been married five years and had been bombed and blasted several times, had lost a dear brother and also lots of friends and no sign of peace and most importantly I was expecting my first baby in July. I therefore applied for my release from the Fire Service, but was told I would have to stay until I was 6 months pregnant and would have to go for check-ups etc in my own time and would be released in April. So it was back to the Watch Room, night duty etc! I often wonder what the women of today would do? Strike I suppose, but we couldn鈥檛 do that.

A Wartime Baby

Having a baby in 1943 was even more traumatic than in peacetime.

I registered with the nearest hospital 鈥� The British Hospital for Mothers and Babies at Woolwich 鈥� and went there for check-ups in my off-duty times and continued duties until April 1943.

A week before my baby was due I was taken by car to Moatlands in Paddock Wood, Kent. It was a lovely old house and we were fed well and looked after very well until our due date, as we were all under-nourished. It was like having a lovely holiday!

My baby was induced on the due date and she was very small (under 5 pounds) was kept warm in many clothes (no incubators in those days). I remember when she was brought to me, she had a horrible shocking pink thick wool bonnet with a tag on it saying 鈥淏undles for Britain鈥� (from America).

After a week鈥檚 rest and good food we were brought back and another batch of 鈥渕others-to-be鈥� taken down. Incidentally, there were no prams to be had, so a good friend queued for hours for a re-conditioned one for me.

My 1943 鈥淏aby鈥� is now 60 years old and an OAP, still small, but healthy, so wartime diet were OK!

During my pregnancy I was bombed out several times, my only brother was killed in North Africa (Tunis) in 1943 鈥� but I am still alive at 90 years to tell the tale!

More memories

Another funny incident I remember, although we only had one night at home in three, we were expected, if there was a heavy raid, to go to the nearest ARP post and try to help. One night in 1942, I was at home alone and the raid was very bad, so I picked up my stirrup pump, gas mask, yin hat and bucket of sand (for incendiaries) which we all kept handy, and ran down the ARP post.

Running alone, the stirrup pump became unraveled and tripped me up, my hat fell over my eyes (too big!) and the bucket of sand upset. After I sorted myself out and got to the ARP post, the Warden was packing us all in like sardines, as he saw a land mine coming down on a parachute. He pushed me in tight against a young couple (who thought their last hour had come). They were cuddling and whispering loving words of undying love and I was trying not to hear. After what seemed ages, but probably wasn鈥檛, the ARP warden let us all out (false alarm, the parachute had incendiaries not a land mine). I beat a hasty retreat in embarrassment.

My friend was a bus conductress and one dark wet night the bus was full up and as it stopped to let me off, the waiting crowd pushed forward and someone shouted 鈥渓et me on, I鈥檓 a Rabbi鈥�. My friend shouted back 鈥淚 don鈥檛 care if you are Popeye, the bus is still full!鈥�

Another time a group of American soldiers got on and were fascinated by the old-fashioned ticket-machine for clipping. They bought all her tickets to send home as souvenirs. We had never seen anything like it.

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