大象传媒

When visiting Portsmouth in the immediate post-war years, one couldn鈥檛 fail to notice how scarred the city remained after the pounding it had taken from enemy aircraft during World War Two. The heaviest period of devastation occurred from July 1940 until the summer of 1941. There were minor incursions after that, but not on the scale of the previous year. The date of 10 January 1941, blitz night, has become part of Portsmouth history forever.
However, reading dates in history books is one thing whilst actually experiencing that terrible night is something which stays with you for life. Sometimes it seems like only yesterday it all happened, and not the sixty odd years ago when as a four year old I witnessed practically every minute of that dreadful night when the family lost everything they possessed. Certain aspects involving some of the family remain vivid in the mind, and one wonders how on earth we all survived.
It was while paying these visits on relatives in the city and being young and impressionable that my interest was sufficiently aroused to begin asking Mum and Dad some serious questions about that night and subsequent evacuation to the market town of Petersfield which lay some twenty miles north in the countryside. It seemed the logical thing to do at that time with everything so fresh in their minds, who better to ask! The information gleaned was of great importance to me with a view to perhaps storing it in ones mind for future use. I listened intently to first mum, and then when in the mood, dad would tell of how things really were for the family.
I have been contemplating for sometime that it would be beneficial to my present day family, if I were to write a brief account of the family鈥檚 trials and tribulations covering the lead up to the blitz night and the following five years. Hopefully, it will pass into the family records to be read by my grandchildren and maybe their grandchildren in time to come.
They will learn of the plight and heartbreak which was heaped upon the peoples of the world by one evil man- Adolf Hitler- when rising to power in Germany 1933. Daring to think he could eventually rule the world he was finally stopped but only after millions of people of all creeds all over the world had perished.
This is just a brief look at those testing times within the family when everyday occurrences between neighbours and officialdom sometimes boiled over becoming very scary to say the least. What it does show is the tremendous resolve, tenacity and spirit of the British people when the chips are down.

How often have we been travelling on public transport, sitting in a pub drinking or maybe just standing in the market place, when hearing someone remark: 鈥淲ell! When that happened to me it changed my life for ever鈥�. Usually there are good reasons for accidents, other occurrences, sudden tragedies, fate, call it what you like. But war on civilians, notably the bombing of cities, becomes not just an accident but barbaric slaughter on the innocents. It鈥檚 a nightmare one feels will never end and for thousands of people living in those frontline target areas; felt themselves very fortunate to survive.
Lucky for me then, that I was just a young child at the time. The memories never leave you. I sometimes wondered how on earth my parents coped during those harrowing years. It was nothing short of a miracle that we all survived. The family did suffer and would go on suffering even after evacuation. But we never lost the spirit or will to carry on and fight back. Future experiences would test our resolve to the limits and I鈥檓 proud to say it was all down to our parents鈥� durability to overcome the impossible, because for them, that鈥檚 what it took to live through it all. The lives of the whole family would be completely turned upside down, never to be the same again.
The havoc and trauma heaped onto the people of Portsmouth reached its peak on the night of 10th January 1941. It will tell you in the history books it was the blitz night. But there are people like myself who have no need to consult history books about such a night. I was a victim along with hundreds of ordinary city people who witnessed not only what the raiding Luftwaffe planes did that night but also the many heroic feats and acts of bravery accomplished by the city services and individuals who performed well behind the line of duty. One such instance involving a very brave ARP warden, occurred during my families evacuation of the house in Mary Street which undoubtedly merited an award of some kind. But, the modesty of the man responsible for such bravery shone through when wishing to remain anonymous. The rescue will be explained fully further into my story.
If you were lucky enough to come through the bombing unscathed physically, you can be sure your mind had been scarred. One had to be there to see grown men and women weeping openly after loosing everything. How much more could any of them take before crumbling completely? For some, it would be a bomb too much as the ferocity of the attack increased. For others, sadly they rest in the church yards of a famous city which like many other great cities withstood everything that Adolph Hitler鈥檚 Luftwaffe could throw at them.
For me though, the 10th of January should have been one of celebration marking my fourth birthday, culminating with a family party at teatime. At an age when a young boy鈥檚 mind is full of fun and play, war mattered little except during daytime raids it deprived me of precious hours outside in the garden. If there was something good produced because of the bombing then undoubtedly it was the Anderson air raid shelter. It made the most wonderful den to play in, keeping us occupied for hours. Sometimes I would be allowed into Mary Street, chaperoned by either my eldest sister June, or brother Tom. I can remember listening to chit chat going on between the older children about the nasty Germans and what they were doing to us but it all went over my head at that time.
Then one day I came down stairs for breakfast thinking it was just another day, although Tom junior had teased me the day before about it being my birthday tomorrow. I didn鈥檛 believe him because he had said similar things before. So it was a real surprise when mum kissed me, wished me a happy birthday before handing me a card followed by a bulky looking shape wrapped up in brown coloured paper. I couldn鈥檛 read the card of course so sister June read it for me. I was more interested in the parcel and when the paper came off, I was overjoyed to see the very toy which had taken my fancy only a few days before when out shopping in Commercial Rd with mum. It was a brown and white stuffed dog on a base with four wheels, standing some fifteen inches high. A length of strong cord was tied to a pulling point so that it could be led about like a real dog. From that moment on and for the rest of the day, I reckon I walked that dog over two miles around the garden.
When told by mum I would be given a birthday party that very evening, I became so exited and pestered her for the rest of the day wanting to know if I could have jelly and custard. 鈥淲ait and see and for goodness sake go and play Georgie, I鈥檝e so much to get done in so little time鈥� I took her advice and went away pulling my dog ,who, by now, went by the name of Ruff because of his hairy coat.
The rest of the day simply whizzed by with the gang resenting mum鈥檚 call to come inside immediately to get ourselves washed and brushed up in readiness for the party. We were all a bit mucky having played inside the Anderson bomb shelter. Once clean and tidy, mum told June and Dorothy to draw the black lined curtains. A blackout curfew was enforced to prevent enemy planes spotting lighted targets after dark. Failing to do so was deemed a crime and would be severely dealt with if committed a second time. It was part of the ARPs duty to make sure that people did not violate the law put in place by Government.
We all gathered round the table in earnest to begin the party but was firmly put in our place when mum said: 鈥淕eorge! I鈥檝e already told you, we鈥檒l not start until your father鈥檚 home鈥�. Dad, Tom snr, was not due home from the dockyard his place of work until just before five that evening.
Everyone鈥檚 heads dropped on hearing this but mum meant what she said and nothing would change her mind, not even a tantrum thrown by brother Tommy. Five o鈥檆lock came and went, much to the annoyance of us all and still no sign of dad However; we remained quiet and patient as we sat waiting to hear the front door slam confirming dad鈥檚 arrival home. Mum had somehow conjured up the ingredients to make me a wonderful birthday cake topped with white icing and four white candles standing up like miniature street lamps waiting to be lit. It had pride of place in the middle of the table. I kept looking at the clock on the mantelpiece. Not having a clue how to tell the time annoyed me somewhat. But I did remember mum saying it did chime on the hour, so I sat watching the hands move onto the five o鈥檆lock hour. Sure enough it chimed perfectly and dad was supposed to walk through the door according to mum but he didn鈥檛.
He was never late and this left mum wondering of dad鈥檚 whereabouts. This delay served only to heap more worry on her already over burdened shoulders. A pretty wavy haired brunette and normally very jolly, mum鈥檚 anguish began to show through a fact daughter June had obviously noticed. 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry mum! Dad will be here soon, you鈥檒l see鈥�.
鈥淥f course he will. He鈥檚 never let us down yet; has he? I suspect he has a rush job to get finished before he leaves work鈥�. Reaching out she smoothed my head with the palm of her hand in an effort to calm me. 鈥淚t won鈥檛 be long now Georgie鈥�, she whispered. Before the words had left her mouth, the front door slammed shut. 鈥淗ere he comes鈥�, smiled mum, quite relieved nothing untoward had happened at the dockyard.
Dad came into the parlour after hanging his greatcoat and cap in the hall. Everyone鈥檚 eyes focussed on him as he entered the parlour and saw his hungry children seated around the large oblong table adorned with this wonderful spread mum had somehow prepared. Baby William, just eight months old, was fast asleep in his pram out in the passageway, oblivious to the whole procedure going on. Medium height and slightly built, dad at just thirty nine was already loosing his hair at the front. It mattered little to us really because with or without hair he was still our kind dad and we all loved him.
鈥淪orry I鈥檓 late Em鈥�. And sorry to you, Georgie for delaying your party鈥�.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 alright dad! Can we start now mum?鈥� I asked. 鈥淭wo more minutes and your dad will have his hands washed, then we can all start together鈥�, she promised.
World war two with Nazi Germany had been going on for fifteen months during which time Portsmouth had seen only sporadic bombing raids. Monday August 12th 1940 was the largest raid experienced by the city so far. Being a lunchtime strike resulted in much loss of life. Casualties of all descriptions were reported with substantial damage being done to public and civic buildings. It was a prelude of things to come.

Entered by Petersfield Library

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