大象传媒

卢
Childhood Memories of War September3rd,1939 - June 7th, 1945
I cannot remember all the specific dates but can approximate the years. The air raid sirens were sounded soon after war had been declared. My father and I were fitting the doors to the air raid shelter which we had built. It was completely underground with 3" reinforced concrete walls on the inside, and brick walling on the outside. The roof was 6" to 8" thick reinforced concrete covered with 3 feet of earth. The door was faced on both sides with steel sheeting. It was heavy so we had to get help from our next door neighbour in order to hang it.
We had been issued with gas masks and public shelters had been built. Barrage balloons loomed overhead. Mother made 'blackout' curtains in order to prevent light shining out. We put tape over the windows to prevent the glass flying about.
My father and I, together with an office colleague, had an allotment in Hounslow. We cycled there every Sunday morning on our tandem. A tray was fitted over the rear handlebars and carried the produce. Our journey took us along the Great West road, past the Gillette factory where there was a cycle track.
We attended Christ Church, East Sheen where the congregation was quite large. Father often played the organ for services. Mother and he were members of the Royal Choral Society so there was always music in our home. I was a great disappointment to them, I'm sure as I displayed no musical talent at all.
Father joined the Air Raid Precautions team. His operation post was built on a traffic island near home. He underwent training in; fIrst aid, dealing with incendiary bombs, organisation of rescue and fire service, ensuring no lights could be seen and dealing generally with any untoward emergency. Each post had an area to patrol.
We all had ration books to ensure that everyone had a fair share of food. Petrol was severely rationed. All road transport had lights restricted to just a pencil light and of course there were no street lights.
A battery of 3.7 inch anti-aircraft guns, search lights and a barrage balloon were installed near the Sheen Gate of Richmond Park. They had a good view over greater London from there.

Sheen Gate was a short walk from home and I was interested in the activities of the gun crews which could be seen through the gates. Nothing much happened locally in the first period of the war. We equipped" the shelter with a bunk for me and my parents slept on a bed on the floor.
Early in July of 1940 it started. The first daylight raid on London occurred. It affected the docks mainly. August 23rd the blitz of London began. At night we lived in the air raid shelter. The noise was terrific when the ack ack guns fired in the park. There also seemed to be a mobile heavy gun mounted on a truck which ran on the railway between Richmond and the city. We never found out the truth of this. Certainly we heard the loco shunting about.
In early June I remember seeing hundreds of privately owned small boats going down the Thames. They crossed to France to help to evacuate our troops. Father asked if our 14 foot sailing dinghy would be of any use. We didn't have an outboard motor so it remained with us.
Between July and October the Battle of Britain took place. I could see some of it from my bedroom window. The aircraft were not visible but
the vapour trails were. Pupils from my school were called up. One of these was Paddy Finnucane who became a fighter pilot. He had been responsible for my joining the school athletics team and air scouts.
In March, 1941 the blitz was resumed on London. This brought war to our door step. At the time I cycled home from school for my lunch and cycled back. Returning to school after lunch one day a stray bomber, hit by the guns in Richmond Park took his revenge by machine gunning as he flew down Sheen Lane, a straight road from the park. He missed everyone, but frightened us all. He crashed in the cemetery and we all had heavily chlorinated water for weeks to prevent infection.
We were periodically showered with incendiary bombs at night. People became adept at picking up unexploded bombs and shoving them in buckets of sand. We had to stop this however because some of them were designed to explode when moved.
I had quite a collection of shrapnel by this time. One piece was

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particularly interesting. It must have been a piece of shell casing as the machining marks showed on the outside.
It had to happen. One night a land mine fell and landed half way up the Clifford Bridge which was a humped back bridge over the railway line between East Sheen and Mortlake stations. We all had to evacuate. My parents decided to go to my mother's sister who lived near to the Mortlake brewery. The alternative was the East Sheen cinema. As far as I can remember it was late evening. Father was on ARP duty and Mother and I were in the shelter. Father helped us with some clothes and off we went. I slept with my 2 cousins under the kitchen table. Presumably everyone else was either under the stairs or in the air raid shelter.
The following day a Royal Navy expert came to deal with the mine which had not exploded. As he worked on it, up it went. The blast blew off his clothes, but he survived. Our home was badly damaged: roof, windows, badly cracked wall and other minor problems. The services were not affected. We had a nice mess to clear up. Father and I straightened the roof tiles as best we could. Fortunately very few fell to the ground. After clearing up glass and plaster from the bedroom ceilings the place was inhabitable. At this time we more or less lived in the shelter during the evenings and nights so it didn't matter so much about the house.
On my way to school from home one lunch time I had just reached school when I heard a German bomber flying in low cloud. The unsynchronised engines gave them away. Suddenly, a bomb whistled down. I flattened myself on the ground, no time to go to the shelter. It plunged into the Bank of England sports ground and blew up. The plane was either hit or lost. The sirens went after the happening.
Late in 1941 Father decided it would be best if Mother and I were to evacuate. We went to Cornwall, first to the Bridge House Hotel, Boscastle for a month and then to Traclago, a farm near Camelford. A place was made for me at Camelford Grammar School. Evacuees were not made welcome, even less at school. School life was a misery but farm life in free time was a joy. I learnt very little over the two years in school. The classes were much larger than I had previously experienced. French in Richmond had been taught in the phonetic way, but at Camelford it was all text book language structure, noun and verb order.
I had no knowledge of Latin and even less after two years.

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I walked to and from school, including home for lunch. It was a hilly walk of two miles. In winter it was more difficult because of the snow drifts which were formed from the wind coming down from Bodmin Moor. I cannot ever remember being absent. Newspapers had to be collected from Camelford; the Daily Telegraph was collected when it arrived, often three or four would arrive at once, depending on the trains from London. The Sunday paper was brought to the farm by the maid's father. He worked in the nearby china clay quarry.
There was a battery operated radio in the farm house, but the mistress of the house, the sister-in-law of the owner, objected to anyone using it. I avoided her whenever possible and clung to Farmer William like glue.
Father came to see us at Christmas and very occasionally in between times. I seemed to grow apart from my father and never recaptured the closeness of childhood. He brought my bicycle down and later, a Richmond friend and his mother also evacuated to Camelford. They lived nearer to the town than we did. We spent dozens of happy afternoons together with our cycles and usually went to Trebarwith beach.
Getting to market was fun. We drove the sheep and cattle to the market in Camelford. We had to go along the main road. There were very few cars about. Farmer William's brother had an Austin 7 with a dickey seat and I had trips to Launceston with him. He lived on his own farm at Bossiney.
We attended Advent Church, near Camelford which was very different from our home Church. There were usually only two or three other people there as many of the people in the area were Methodists and went to Chapel in Camelford. I found this division of Churches very strange.
I had the freedom of a 250 acre farm rather than a large town back garden. It was very quiet at night and very dark as there was no electricity. The house was lit by lamps and candles. I don't remember ever being afraid because I knew my Mother was there. The owner became a second father to me. I learnt a lot about farm work. The winter of 1942 was fairly severe but a sledge was made for me and a field was

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set aside for sledging. I became popular for a short time. The farm backed on to Bodmin Moor so digging sheep out of snowdrifts was a favourite. Water had to be pumped up to the house from the well. This became my job. Farmer William did not have a tractor until well after the war.
Cornwall entered my soul and Farmer William my heart. He taught me to build hay ricks and corn stacks. Harvest time was interesting as a steam engine towed a threshing machine up the hill to the farm. It worked the thresher. I was in a kind of heaven. I was taught to use a 12 bore shot gun as rabbits were a real pest. When we left to return home in 1943 Farmer William gave me his single barrel shot gun. He had apparently never given anything away before. I treasured and used it, finally parting with it in my late sixties. He was a kind and hospitable man. At harvest time a large supper was laid on for the family, neighbours, helpers and workers. Some 25 people were seated around the table in the kitchen. The resident maid was kept busy refilling the teacups. The people sitting down were teasing her by presenting their cups just as she put the pot down. She eventually realised what they were doing and said, 'You set of buggers' in a broad Cornish accent. I had never seen this many people at one table before and was not accustomed to the noise and banter.
A mouse lived under the kitchen grandfather clock. No matter how many traps were set he was never caught. There were five cats, called the Christian cats, who controlled the mice but they did not come indoors. I was taught and allowed to lead the plough horses out to the field. Betsy knew when there was heavy work to do and would gently pin my foot to the ground when I took her for a pre work drink. I learnt how to persuade her to move. Shouting did not work.
At Christmas, carol singers walked the two miles from Camelford to sing and join the household in mince pies and a hot drink. Also at Christmas some Canadian air force men were invited to a meal. They were stationed nearby. I have always assumed at Davidstowe but I'm not sure.
Spot, the dog was a border collie and was told to stay with me when I was about the farm. He was my firSt experience of large pets and I loved him. He helped me collect the bullocks and sheep for inspection and counting. Looking back Spot did the work and I stood by for

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encouragement. When the Canadian airmen left that evening we never saw Spot again. For a working dog to stay away from home would indicate that he was prevented from returning.
One event caused hilarity in the neighbourhood for weeks. The War Agricultural Committee insisted that Traclago must produce some grain. Farmer William explained that the farm was not arable and could not be arable because of the depth of soil on the rock beneath the fields. The officials got difficult and insisted. He got stubborn and declined saying that plough shares were impossible to get and he couldn't risk his. Fellow farmers came from all around for the great day when the 'suit'
arranged for a tractor and plough to begin work. After the breaking of nine plough shares and much laughter and derision from the on-lookers, the 'suit' gave up. I learnt a lot from the incident, but mostly to listen and use the knowledge and understanding of the local knowledge.
The war did not entirely go away. We could see Plymouth being attacked from the top floor of the house; what we saw were the fires, not the aircraft.
In 1944 the house in East Sheen had been restored and Mother and I returned home. Back in East Sheen I returned to the Grammar school. I had lost virtually 2 years of my education
Day raids in London had almost stopped. As long as one could dress quickly it was possible to go to bed and only use the shelter when the warning sounded. This gave the two minutes needed to dress and get to the shelter. It was after this period that the 'doodlebugs' began. Your tummy turned over when their engines cut out. You waited for the explosion. One of these incidents was more frightening than anything else I felt throughout the war. I was at school and we were at after noon break. There had been no air raid warning when a flying bomb came over. The engine cut out and down it came with a mighty explosion. I was convinced it was near my home. When released from school I pedaled as fast as I could, fearing for my Mother who was at home. The bomb had landed in a nearby cemetery, shattering windows but doing little other structural damage.
After the doodlebug (V 1) came the V2 rocket. The first one fell in Chiswick across the river from my home. We sat at lunch when we heard

this big explosion. There was no sound before or after it's arrival. The government delayed any information about it. Luckily the Germans could not mass produce them and the rapid advance of our troops meant London was soon out of range. Some helicopters sound like the V1
We went to the city for the peace celebrations. We managed to get in front of Buckingham Palace and watch the royal family come out onto the balcony and wave. The royal family then was King George V1,
Queen Elizabeth, Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret. Mr
Churchill was with them.
Then came the time of ' getting back to normal', whatever that was. Our garden returned to lawn, the guns and searchlights were taken away, the barrage balloons no longer loomed over us. Our Sunday afternoon walks in Richmond Park entering through the Sheen Gate resumed. Rationing stayed for a long time and there were many shortages. Schooling became normal, but I had lost two years at the Richmond end and it was a tremendous struggle to get to Matriculation and Higher School Certificate. I longed in these years for the quiet of Cornwall and the companionship of Farmer William.
At heart I feel a Cornishman. The urge to go each year does not diminish. I make my annual pilgrimage to Camelford, sit in Advent Church and think of mother and put flowers on Farmer William's grave and sit with him for a while.
J'Worth
17-7-1905

This story was submitted to the 鈥淧eoples War Site by Rod Aldwinckle of the CSV Action Desk on behalf of J. Worth and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the terms and conditions of the site

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