大象传媒

I am writing this in answer to your request for memories of World War Two. I was a civil servant, 18 years old, living in South East London. The day we declared war on Germany was a warm, sunny day in September. My family and all the neighbours were gathered in our garden to await the Prime Minister鈥檚 announcement at 11a.m. We all had our wirelesses turned on and our windows open. As the chimes of Big Ben rang out, we all fell silent. Mr. Chamberlains voice was heard, with his declaration of war.
For a few moments, nobody spoke, then, everybody started talking at once. We younger ones were full of determination to join the forces, and go and sort them out. I felt at once excited and apprehensive, but determined to 鈥榙o my bit鈥�. I was not, however, allowed to join the forces because I worked for the government already, much to my disappointment. Our parents were very troubled; they had lived through one war, and they did not relish another. My father had fought all through that one and lost an eye.

I would like to make a point here; the scene I have just described was typical of the working class of that time, and held good through the war. People were there for each other, ready to give support and sympathy.

The government had already made Anderson shelters available for those who wanted them. We did not have one, but my Dad dug out and erected one for the next-door neighbours. I spent about two hours in it during an air raid, but decided it 鈥渨asn鈥檛 for me鈥�. They saved many lives. They consisted of two curved sheets of corrugated iron, bolted together, lowered into a hole three or four feet deep and standing about three feet above ground level. There was a wooden bench fixed inside and you piled about two feet of earth on top. Some people planted flowers on them to hide them. At night people put a blanket over the doorway and used candles for lighting.

We were issued with gas masks, identity cards and ration books. At the office they gave us tin helmets. They also gave us a demonstration of how to use your gas mask. About fifty people were in the room together. They released tear gas and we had to hold our breath and put on our mask quickly. (When you breathed out it made a noise like a raspberry. Can you imagine fifty people all breathing out at once! Hilarious!) What was not so funny was being made to take the gas masks off before we left the room. We staggered out, eyes streaming, coughing and spluttering. This was supposed to impose on us the rule that everyone should carry their gas mask at al times! I am ashamed to say that I didn鈥檛 and neither did many others. Fortunately for us, we never had occasion to use them.

We had to cover our windows with thick material, so that no light escaped. If any light showed at all, the air raid warden would shout 鈥減ut that light out鈥�. It was said that a bomber pilot could see you strike a match from about 1000 feet. With no street lighting, walking at night was hazardous. Even places you knew well seemed unfamiliar. You found yourself bumping into things, and tripping over pavements, on nights when there was no moon. The government stuck posters everywhere exhorting you to 鈥渆at more carrots because they help you to see in the dark!鈥� Railway stations were very dimly lit and the manes were removed, so if you were going somewhere for the first time, you had to keep asking 鈥渁re we there yet?鈥� Signposts were removed too, so it was difficult finding your way about. It might have confused an invading army but it confused us too.

Rationing began soon after the onset of war. First one or two items, then eventually most basic foods were rationed. Bread, flour, butter, margarine, sugar, tea, eggs, bacon, meat were rationed. Also clothes were rationed and petrol and coal. We had utility dresses and furniture using minimal materials. We had to make do and mend. Even beer and spirits were in short supply and cigarettes. Our diet nevertheless was a healthy one. We thrived on it. There were plenty of vegetables, other than potatoes, which were rationed, and homegrown fruit. Most people grew some vegetables in their gardens, and parks were turned into allotments.

Railings were taken away; old saucepans and other metal goods were also collected to be turned into tanks, planes, guns and munitions. People saved potato peelings and other food scraps for pig food.

In early 1940, the war on the home front began in earnest. First were 鈥榥uisance raids鈥�. These lasted about 20 minutes, and went on night and day to keep people running to and from shelters, thus interrupting work and sleep. These were followed by heavy bombing raids which went on for hours and destroyed much of big cities, killing thousands of civilians. People started going down into the tube station every night and sleeping on the platforms and quite a community grew in Chislehurst caves. For the most part, people went on getting to work and home again and going to the cinema or theatre or to dances. In the cinema, when the sirens sounded an air raid warden would flash on to the screen and those who wished would go and take shelter, but mostly people just stayed put.

At night my dad and I, and sometimes some of the others of the family would stand at the open door, watching the searchlights probing the sky: sometimes you would see a bomber5 caught in the beam. Then the 鈥渁ck ack鈥� guns would start firing at it. You could see fires springing up nearby and hear the whistle and bump of the bombs landing then the explosions. The bombers had a policy of dropping incendiary bombs to start up fires, thus lighting up their targets before dropping HE bombs. Incidentally, you didn鈥檛 venture outside, because there was as much chance of being hit by shrapnel from the guns as by bombs.

The office I worked at was just down the road from London Bridge Station, and my friend Dorothea and I volunteered for fire watching duties. We had two four-storey buildings to look after and our duty was if any incendiary bombs fell on the roofs we had to put them out quickly before the fire took hold. To do this we each had a stirrup pump and a few buckets of water. The nozzle of the pump went into the bucket; you put your foot into the stirrup and pumped away, while directing the jet onto the bomb. They were put out quite easily. We were on duty on the Saturday night in 1940 when the Luftwaffe staged it big raid on the docks. We had a first class view of this, and it looked for all the world like the Great Fire of London all over again. There were fires all around. Apart from a couple of stray incendiaries we were not touched, but a block of flats along the road were razed to the ground, resulting in many deaths and London Bridge Station was badly damaged. The firemen couldn鈥檛 do much because water mains were broken and the river was at its lowest ebb. I was very worried because my dad was fire watching in the docks, by Tower Bridge.

At nine o鈥檆lock the next morning we handed over to the Sunday shift and made our way home. Dorothea lived North of the river and I to the South so we went our separate ways. I had to walk to Bromley, which was six miles away. I got to the Old Kent Road, where there were fires burning on both sides of the road. Two firemen on duty said, 鈥測ou can鈥檛 go through there!鈥� 鈥淲ho says?鈥� I said. I was determined to get home and see if the family were all right, especially my dad. They asked where I had been and I said, 鈥淔ire watching鈥� They laughed and said 鈥淲hich one did you watch?鈥� Very funny!

I was very relieved to get home, and see that they were all right and Dad turned up soon after me. There was no public transport that day; there were too many holes in the roads and rails. If the sirens went you were on a tram or bus, they would turn everybody off and you were supposed to go down to the shelter. A lot of us just walked the rest of the way, ducking into shelters if we heard a bomb coming down. You got used to all this, you thought of it as the 鈥榥orm鈥�. You got fatalistic; 鈥� If your names on it it鈥檒l get you鈥� we used to say. Getting to and from work was not always easy. Lorry and van drivers would pull up at the bus stops, where everyone had congregated and offer lifts to wherever they were going. Then as many as could find room would climb on and away we鈥檇 go. My younger sister Vera and I would travel together and she had further to go than me. Plenty of drivers went our way. One day, I was walking home during an air raid and I got a lift in a small van. As we got going I asked the driver what he was carrying, he said 鈥渕atches鈥�. That made me sit up!

After about eighteen months of raids we had a period of quiet, and things settled down to something like normal. Then came another menace. The VI鈥檚, flying bombs or as we called them 鈥淒oodlebugs鈥�. These were short, stubby pilot less planes, which had a nose packed with explosives. Their engines were set to run for a certain length of time, which would bring them over their target then cut out causing the doodlebug to fall to earth and explode. These were powerful bombs and did a lot of damage. They would send over a dozen or more at a time. You could watch them flying towards you and you hoped they would keep going but when they stopped, it was time to dash for cover. I was working at the Admiralty by that time and working alternate night and day watches. One morning, after a night watch, I went to bed for a couple of hours sleep before lunch. I had hardly closed my eyes before Mum came and told me to get up. 鈥淭hey are coming over in droves鈥� she said. Grumbling, I got up and went downstairs. IO was watching them from the door when I saw one coming straight for the house. 鈥淒uck鈥� I shouted and we made a dive for our 鈥榮afe鈥� cover, by the coal cellar. As I ran, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a wing tip hit the chimney of the house next door. The doodlebug turned a somersault and sailed over the house into the next road. There was a terrific explosion and the ceiling came down, the windows, (including frames) vanished, some of the roof disappeared and all was chaos. We were unhurt and that was all that mattered, others weren鈥檛 so lucky. Whole families were wiped out.

We were the only people who had an electric kettle and as the gas mains had been hit, in no time at all we had a queue at the door of women with their teapots and tea ration. (What would we do without our cup of tea?) Best of all was that when Mum and I went upstairs, there in my pillow was a 2ft long shard of glass. I was so glad Mum had made me get up. The repair squad came round and patched up the house, so that we could stay in it, and within weeks it was all repaired. The furniture was a mess and so were our clothes, but at the town hall they gave us dockets to replace them.
Even worse than the doodlebugs, were the V2 rockets. They gave no warning. Suddenly, there would be a huge explosion and houses, people, cars, things would disappear in a cloud of dust and all that would be left was a pile of smoking rubble. Fortunately within a few months the RAF had destroyed their bases and that was the end of air raids. No more would we find that places we had seen only yesterday had turned, overnight, into heaps of rubble and people we knew had died or been injured.

A few months later, on May 8th, 1945, the German army capitulated Victory in Europe! There was plenty to celebrate. No more blackouts, children could come home again to their families, no more bombs. Everywhere there were street parties. People got together, using their rations and anything else they could lay their hands on, and they brought their pianos and gramophones into the street. Then they danced and sang until dusk. It was good to see the street lamps on and the lights shining from windows.

I was still working at the Admiralty. The war was not yet over. There was still the Far East to be won. That night I arrived at Charring Cross Station and it took me twenty minutes to fight my way through the crowds to Admiralty Arch. The whole of the Strand, Whitehall, Trafalgar Square, Northumberland Avenue, the Mall, everywhere was a solid mass of people, singing, hugging, and dancing. It was a wonderful atmosphere.

VJ Day was much more sedate. No Street parties, just a quiet thankfulness that it was all over at last. Also we were shocked at the way it had ended, with two Atom bombs, on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Thousands of innocent people were killed in a monstrous way. The government said it shortened the war, and saved lives but we believed that was not why they used the A-bombs. We felt uneasy and yes, guilty.

Afterwards we learned the horrors of the Nazi Concentration camps, the gas ovens, the furnaces, the inhuman experiments, and the starvation. And all because they were born Jews, Gypsies, disabled. That war should never be forgotten, it should never happen again!

It was a good few years before rationing ended; life was never the same. Many people had to adjust to life without loved ones, and had to rebuild their lives in new homes

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