大象传媒

I lived with my parents in Cheltenham between the ages of about 4 years and 15 years old. When the second World War was declared I was 8. We were on holiday with my grandparents in Surrey and had gone to the south coast to spend the day while we still had the chance. I remember the weather reflected the mood of the grown-up, gloomy, although I didn鈥檛 realise the implications at the time. We had to collect our gas masks there and then, and not wait till we got home, as it was considered possible that there would be immediate gas attacks. Everyone had to out up black-out curtains or shutters at their windows, so that no chink of light showed after dark, as it might suggest to an alien plane that there was a city below on which to loose its bombs.

I cannot remember the exact timing of events but, back in Cheltenham, my father had to relinquish his job as a car salesman and take on some war work, as he was too old to be called up. Evacuees started arriving, as Cheltenham was considered a fairly safe area, and our school (which was primary and secondary combined) had to share its buildings with King Edwards School for Girls, Birmingham. We went to school in the mornings and they in the afternoons (or vice versa). Goodness knows how the teachers coped with keeping to exam syllabuses for the older girls. We had two of the Birmingham girls billeted to us, for if you had a spare room or two you were obliged to take someone who was away from home. We had all been issued with ration books, which visitors to another area had to take along with them, and everyone had to be registered with a shop and collect their rations from the same shop each week. . The amounts of each commodity were very small, compared to what we consume today, but as the shops had to carry extra to cover visitors coming into the area or troops on leave etc., if you were a loyal customer, sometimes you were lucky enough to get a little extra. But those who kept changing their supplier by re-registering were not looked on very kindly. Long queues would form at fish shops, or when word got around that some unrationed foods had been delivered and tempers got frayed when there was not enough to go around (as has been shown in 鈥淒ad鈥檚 Army鈥� on TV!) Luckily my mother was a good manager and a good cook and my father grew vegetables in the garden, so I don鈥檛 remember going short. We were probably much healthier, as we certainly could not over-indulge! Petrol was rationed and both my parents had bicycles, my mother for shopping, my father to get to work.

All our evacuees seemed happy with us. The Birmingham girls did not stay very long. There was a period called the 鈥榩honey war鈥� when nothing much happened, so some evacuees returned home. How they fared later I never heard. We then had a succession of men lodgers, civil servants whose departments had been moved out of big cities and an army major who worked in a bakery that had taken over the Pump Room. He was great fun and kept me from my homework by encouraging me to play darts! I got quite good at the game.

At school, our back field was turned into air-raid shelters and periodically an alarm bell would ring and we would have to calmly collect a coat (and gas masks of course) and line up at our appointed entrance to the shelters while our very tall head mistress stood on a parapet 鈥榙irecting the traffic鈥� with her black gown billowing in the wind, as I remember. Inside there were bare wooden benches and it was very damp and dismal. However I don鈥檛 remember ever having to go into the shelters for real, probably because the few air raids we had were at night-time. The field in front of the school was given over to hay and after it had been cut, in warm weather we were allowed to play out there and make dens with the leavings. For sports we had to walk or cycle to a nearby park where there were hockey pitches and tennis courts and we had to cycle right through the town to an indoor swimming pool, so did not miss out on our recreation. At some time during this period I passed the 11plus exam, and moved up into the senior school. At the same age (11) I joined the Girl Guide movement and went to meetings at a Congregational Church hall where my friend鈥檚 father was the Minister. Our leader (like some of our teachers) was an older woman as many of the young women had joined up or were doing war work. She was a very kind person, but not very active or imaginative. I remember vividly that she 鈥榓dopted鈥� a German Jewish girl who came to guide meetings and was very temperamental. Had we realised what there poor girl may have been through, as I now do, we might have been more tolerant of her having to be pampered somewhat. We enjoyed our meetings, but there was no possibility of camping till much later, towards the end of the war, and the hikes we had up into the hills around Cheltenham with no adult supervision must surely also have been later. During the holidays however, our school organised camps for the older girls to help on farms for a week or more, where we earned minimal wages and slept in huts. I went to two of these later in the war, one picking up and bagging potatoes and the other harvesting beetroot, backbreaking work, but we enjoyed it.

Cheltenham did have its moments though, and as Guides we did our bit. Several bombs were dropped around the railway area and once on the Black & White coach station, which was mistaken for a railway station I believe. This usually happened at night and rests centres were opened in the church halls where teams of volunteers tried to make the people who had lost their homes comfortable and served them breakfasts. As guides and scouts we turned up for duty and fetched and carried for the adults. This went towards our War Service badge, awarded after 90 hours recorded work. For this we also went up to a YWCA hostel and tackled loads of washing up which was piled into a huge greasy tin sink in the basement. Servicemen and women could go there for meals and accommodation. Another task I remember doing on various occasions was pushing a trek-cart around the side streets collecting jam jars for recycling or alternatively, newspapers. Despite all this, I never completed my 90 hours. My mother had two streets to cover for National Savings. Everyone was encouraged to buy stamps to save money (which was a loan to the government of course). The WRVS organised this and there was great competition as to how much one could collect each week, but my mother was very unfortunate to have allocated two very poor streets, where 6d was about as much as they could afford. There were big parades from time to time to boost morale and encourage more savings etc. These entailed all the service personnel who were in town and all the youth movements, nurses, Red Cross workers etc assembling and marching around town to a church service, with flags and banners flying. There was a lot of waiting about and drill practice, not to mention polishing of badges and shoes to look smart. Each street had a first aid box, which was kept, in one house for everyone鈥檚 use in an emergency. My mother was the keeper for our street. I don鈥檛 think it was ever needed, but there were 鈥榤ock鈥� emergencies from time to time to keep us all on our metal. The nearest our area got to the real thing was very early one morning when a stray German plane swooped down on some factory workers who were walking to work about half a mile away and machine gunned them. I remembered sitting under the dining-room table and the sound of a siren still sends shudders down the spine.

We were kept busy knitting and sewing too. The adults made sea-boot stockings with oiled wool for Russian sailors and children knitted items for Russian children. Then we made broaches and other items to sell and raise money to equip a bag of necessities for our own sailors who had been rescued at sea and lost everything. My aunt had married a sailor early in the war and it was a very sad day in our family when he was reported missing. He was on a destroyer escorting convoys in northerly waters and being the engineer, did not stand a chance of surviving the torpedo which hit them. Many people had such tragedies of course. Wives would travel great distances in unreliable trains to be with their menfolk when they had very short periods of leave in some distant port. Many of the trains were requisitioned for troop movements but it was possible to visit relations if you were prepared to out up with delays, possible air raids en route and the discomfort of 鈥榰tility鈥� seats hard wooden benches instead of upholstery. Everywhere you went you had to carry your gasmask, identity card and ration book.

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