大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from the actiondesk on behalf of Mr Neville Ball and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Ball fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

I was born in 1936 in Streatham, London, three and a half years before the outbreak of the Second World War. By that time I had entered a children鈥檚 home in Sidcup, Kent as my mother couldn鈥檛 look after me and I couldn鈥檛 be adopted as I had developed infantile eczema, meaning I was unsuitable for adoption, according to the National Adoption Society. Prior to entering the children鈥檚 home and because of my skin complaint I spent lengthy spells in hospital, such, that if my eczema was in remission I was fit to go into foster care and when it flared up again I would return to hospital.

My memories of Lamorbey Children鈥檚 Home are not strong or extensive, but there are some small windows of memory of life in there that have stayed with me to the present day. When the war started I was moved to another cottage from the one I was in, in order to give us kids better protection for when the blitz started with the bombing raids over London. We were not evacuated but stayed in the cottage, sleeping in a ground floor room with a brick wall built up outside the window to protect it from bomb blast. The window had a blackout curtain over it at night to keep any light from the room being seen outside. We slept four to a bed, two at the top and two at the bottom. Lying there at night, in the darkness, during the air raids was quite hair raising as every sound outside seemed enormously magnified in contrast to the quietness in the dormitory. The sounds of aircraft, anti aircraft fire, exploding bombs and Doodle bugs with their eerie droning flight filling the night sky, was quite disconcerting to a four year old. The following morning we would find shrapnel on the ground on the way to school, still hot from the previous nights air raids. Sometimes we would arrive at school to find out the air raid siren had started again and so we would have to go straight into the air raid shelter instead of the classroom. We were all issued with gas masks, the Mickey Mouse variety, which were more acceptable to us children than the others that adults wore. By the end of September 1940 the Battle of Britain was over and the air raids had finished. Although I was in care and the general population suffered privation due to food rationing, at that time I don鈥檛 remember if us children were deprived of our fair share of sustenance.

When I was about six I was sent to a hospital in London called, I think, the South Western Hospital. I was moved around many times during my childhood but never do I remember anyone ever asking me or giving me any choice in where I was sent. I don鈥檛 remember how long I was in there or whether I had any education whilst there, at least I can鈥檛 recall if there was. Eventually I was on the move again; I was put on a train to Manchester to another hospital, Booth Hall Children鈥檚 Hospital. It seems strange now, thinking back, that in 1943 I was evacuated up North after I had spent most of the war, at that stage, in the London area. I can only think that they needed to clear the hospitals for casualties coming back from the war. It was whilst I was in Booth Hall that I first remember someone asking me how old I was. I answered that I didn鈥檛 know or when my birthday was, until the person who had asked me, may be a nurse or a member of staff, decided to find out. I was told I was eight, which means I had had eight birthdays without being aware of it. The ages I have given so far are based on what I have worked out since. On arrival at the hospital I was made to stay in bed, which I didn鈥檛 like and directed my complaints to Sister Howell, the ward sister, who was a bit of a battleaxe. I didn鈥檛 want to be confined to bed as I was only suffering from eczema. She eventually relented after much protest from me and I was then able to get dressed in the morning and leave the ward, to get out from under the staff鈥檚 feet.

I used to wander around the hospital grounds poking my nose into wherever I fancied. One particular time I stuck my nose through the laundry door. Women were sat there having their tea break and on seeing me they beckoned me in. I was made to sit down, the women were talking to me and making a fuss of me. This was an unusual experience for me, I wasn鈥檛 used to being the centre of attention. I was given a drink, biscuits and sweets as well as the attention, which I really liked. It became a regular calling off point each day and I was on first name terms with the ladies. One particular woman had taken a shine to me called Alice, she asked the hospital authorities if she could take me home for the week end. There was no problem with her doing that, so I was given a sample of home life and taken to see her relations, taken to the pictures and generally given a good time. There were other kids at the hospital who seemed to be suffering from skin diseases, like I was and who were from other areas of the country. I was in Booth Hall about 12 months and whilst in there we kids were given some education from a tutor who came into the hospital. After I left Booth Hall, Alice used to take other kids out for the day at the weekends from the hospital, such was her kindness.

I was moved again to Barnsley in Yorkshire. I joined other children at a place that was a disused army camp. This was in 1945, the year the war ended, so maybe the camp was surplus to requirements to the Ministry of Defence. I had my ninth birthday there and Alice who had kept in touch, sent me a birthday cake. I attended school in the town and I also used to go to the flicks on Saturdays, which was the highlight of the week. It wasn鈥檛 long, maybe 12 months or less that I was on the move again, back to the London area, with all the children from the camp.

It may be of interest to the reader that I was later adopted by Alice and her husband Dick.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.