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World War 2 as seen through the eyes of James W Scott as a young boy between the ages 8 years and seven months to 14 years and six months.

I was born to my parents Clara Winifrith and Walter George Scott on the 13th February 1931, joining my sibling sisters Violet (5) and Ruth (2). We all lived, with my grandparents, in a three bed-roomed house at 412 Durnsford Road, Wimbledon Park, London SW19. My early childhood, up until 1938, was uneventful, but I was suddenly aware that something very serious was happening. My parents, talking in hushed tones in our presence, about a man called Hitler and of a crisis, but what that meant I had no idea. Then my mother said everything was going to be all right as there was to be 'peace in our time'. Many pictures appeared in the press of Mr Chamberlain waving a piece of paper. however, it seemed strange to me that a lot of local men were joining up in the army and even my father, who apparently was in an reserved occupation - he made artificial limbs at a firm called J E Hangers & Co in Roehampton - joined the auxiliary fire service.

All this, at the time, seemed very strange to me, but I think my parents were trying to keep from me, for as long as possible, what was about to happen. But truth will out. On coming home with my sisters, from the Saturday morning children's pictures, In august 1939, I noticed, when we got off the bus, that the sky was full of barrage balloons. on asking why there were so many in the sky, my eldest sister Violet, said: "they are to stop aircraft from bombing us, as there was to be a war next week." My mother when she heard about this was very cross, as she didn't want me to know, too soon, about the horrors of what was to come. Even more scary was when every one was issued with a gas mask. These were handed out at our school; we had to test them by putting them on, taking deep breaths powerful enough for a square of paper to stick to the filter at the bottom of the mask. I remember the awful smell of the rubber and the suffocating effect they seemed to have, but after several practices we soon got used to wearing them.

Weeks before war was declared I was the cause of a crisis in the family - I was run over by a van outside my house and suffered a broken leg. I remember the event very well indeed. as I stepped into the road my friend, George, shouted "look out" but it was too late and a van knocked me down. I suffered a broken leg. I always maintain that I had an out-of body experience after the crash. I seemed to be looking down at the scene of the accident and, saw quite clearly, one of our neighbours running to the front door of our house and hammering on it, shouting for my mother to come quickly and then seeing my mother rushing out and yelling Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. A crowd of people had gathered round me, and I’m sure they were all saying "It's wee Jimmy." then the ambulance arrived and scooped me up (no paramedics then) and delivered me to the hospital, where I was put in a ward, which was empty, except for one other boy, at the other end. I think that perhaps most of the patients had been evacuated, because of the pending hostilities. After what seemed hours a doctor and some nurses arrived to deal with my broken leg. the doctor took hold of it and just pulled it together, which was extremely painful and I let out a yell and started to cry, but no sympathy for me, I was just told to stop being a cry baby. My leg was plastered up as far as the knee, and later my parents came and took me home. As the war crisis deepened my mother arranged with my aunt grace, who lived in a small hamlet called park gate, just a mile outside Hailsham, Sussex, for my grandparents, my two sisters and my cousin Barbara, whose mother was in hospital suffering from TB, to be billeted with them. an impossible situation, because it meant this three bed-roomed house became overcrowded with six of us and aunt grace and her two children. war was declared a few days after we arrived on the 3rd September 1939. All of us children were sitting on the kitchen table listening to Mr Chamberlain’s broadcast saying "we were now at war with Germany" minutes later the sirens sounded and my grandmother made us put our gas masks on, as she was certain we were to be bombed and gassed immediately.

The eight months we stayed at my aunts, were some of the happiest times of my life. But sadly, six children and three adults sharing a three bed-roomed house, and with my sister violet, now aged 13, who was well developed and keen on boys, tempers became frayed and we all returned home to 412 Durnsford Road. That was in May 1940. However, on returning to school the authorities decided that all school children were to be evacuated to a safer place, we children didn't know where, but I’m sure our parents did. Our parents were given a list of the things that each child had to take with them. This caused a problem for my mum as some of the clothing we had to take, we either didn't have, or did not have enough of, and being poor she didn't have the money to buy them. Then to crown it all, it was to be carried in a rucksack, which we never possessed. But my mum rose to the occasion and went to the bakers opposite our house, and got several flour sacks, from which she made up large, envelope looking, sacks in which to carry our clothes. I felt quite embarrassed when I took it to school and showed the teacher, but she was very good and told the class how very sensible my mum had been in not spending money un-necessarily.

On the appointed day all the school children, not just from our school, but from all the schools around, assembled at Wimbledon station where we departed to where we knew not. After several hours travelling, during which time we only had to eat the sandwiches which our parents made for us, we arrived at Ilfracombe. A large number of us were gathered in a church hall, where refreshments were given, and we sat on the floor. From time to time people kept coming in and selecting children at random and then disappearing. As I recall, at about six or seven o'clock the hall was empty except for me and five of my school mates - nobody wanted us. I heard the organisers asking what were going to do with us, as all the people who were prepared to take in evacuees had come and gone. Then someone remembered that a Mrs Hewit, who owned a guest house called Rosegarth, had indicated she, as a last resort, would take in some boys. We were all bundled into a car and delivered, looking very much like the urchins that the cartoonist Giles used to draw, at her doorstep. However, she accepted us with good grace and we were shown to a room in the attic, where there were three double beds.

We were later fed and watered and shown into a conservatory which adjoined the side of the house. The bed-room and the conservatory were the only rooms we were allowed in. In the morning we had to re-assemble at the church hall and told that, that was were we were to be taught one class was to occupy the stage and four other classes were to be taught in each corner of the hall. As far as I remember there were no seats; we all had to sit on the floor, the teachers, poor souls, were up against it trying to teach children, whom they did not know, under those conditions. It was impossible, but they did their best and to maintain order dealt out severe punishment. My mates and I soon gave up and we decided to play truant, which we knew we would get away with, because none of the teachers new us and under the working conditions, they were probably glad to lose six unruly boys. My broken leg, of course, had now healed. I was soon confronted by another problem - I had contracted impetigo on my legs (I must be honest, Mrs Hewit didn't ensure that we kept ourselves very clean) I was sent to the local hospital, which seemed to be run by a lot of well meaning auxiliaries, they treated my legs by putting on hot poultices, the worst thing possible for impetigo.

As a consequence the whole of my legs became a mass of weeping festering sores. I wrote home frequently to my mother pleading to come home; eventually I and my sisters did so. We only spent six weeks away in Ilfracombe and it was disastrous. On arriving home my mother went to our local chemist, a doctor was out of the question, it cost money, who prescribed some ointment for my legs and together with tender loving care they repaired themselves within a few weeks. Just in time for the war to start in earnest. As a child I had no thought that we wouldn’t win the war; it was inconceivable that we would do so - we had an empire and we were taught that we were the most powerful nation in the world. My parents, however, must have had great doubts, what with France being overrun and the Dunkirk evacuation. My mum being greatly relieved that her brother, my uncle Syd and Mr Jack Pearl, who lived two doors away, had got away safely. When we were first evacuated my parents thought we would be away for the duration, so they only had installed an Anderson shelter for two. At first when the bombing started we all went into it - that was my mum (dad was on duty with the fire service) my grandparents and us three children and for a time my cousin Barbara, who stayed with us for a while because her mother was in hospital suffering from TB. It really was impossible for seven people to occupy a shelter designed for two. So after a very short while my mother decided that if we were going to die, it would be in our beds. so that was the arrangement, we went to bed as normal, but when the bombing got really bad mum would get us up and we would take shelter under the stairs or the table. At this stage my sister violet, now 14, was playing up some and staying out at nights, which caused my parents a lot of worry. But that's another story.

Eventually we were given a Morrison shelter, which was very useful when the air-raids got bad. a lot of bombs were dropped on our locality and only recently I found a map of where all the bombs, incendiary's, oil bombs, shells, VI & V2s and downed aircraft fell. a copy of the map forms part of this recollection. One night my mother and I were sitting in the back room of the house; an air-raid was on, but things were very quiet. Then suddenly, we heard a whoosh, then a thud and an almighty bang. a big bomb landed a few streets away, in Braemar avenue. The blast from it blew in the back doors and windows and my mother and I were thrown, together with various bits of furniture around the room. We were bruised and battered, but otherwise unhurt. We picked ourselves up and I remember my mother saying, very calmly, "that was a close one James". The bomb actually caused a lot of damage, killing nine people, including my friend's grandparents. The war for us youngsters was really a great adventure, scouring the streets after an air-raid for shrapnel - The greatest prize of all was to find the nose cone of a shell. I found two. One day, just above the skies where we lived, there was a dogfight and we could see the fighters weaving about the sky and could even hear the rat a tat of the machine guns. I remember later in the day finding a spent bullet on the ground near to where we were standing, looking at the dog-fight. I presume it was from one of the aircraft. It was added to my collection of shrapnel. after every raid my mates and I would go and look at the bomb damage and peer down into the craters.

During one air-raid we saw a German bomber in trouble after being hit by ack-ack fire. It was flying very low and the anti-aircraft guns were blasting away at it. Then suddenly it nosed dived into the ground and we all cheered. Except my mum, she felt very sad, and said "they were somebody's sons". Soon after this we moved from my grandparents’ house to across the road to 3 Gordondale road, this would have been when I was about 11 years old. I was now doing a morning paper round (no restrictions in those days) and went out, what ever the weather or air-raids, provided bombs were not dropping to deliver them. I had strict instructions though that if things got bad I was to knock on the door of any house and seek shelter. I never did.

I remember paying a visit with my mother to my aunt grace, near Hailsham and she told us that a German aircraft had been shot down in a village a short distance away, and the three air-crew were killed. Apparently when it came to bury them, there was a huge outcry because the villagers considered them so evil they wouldn't have them buried in the churchyard. The arguments went on for some weeks, until finally a compromise was reached and they were allowed to be buried in the churchyard, but in the furthest corner away from the other graves. We went to visit them. There were three crosses, two had names on them the other was to an unknown German airman. I often wonder whether they are still there. The war did bring its horrors. One night during an air-raid one of our neighbours, thinking that nothing much was happening overhead, went into the garden to get some coal. His wife got concerned when he didn't come back, and on going into the garden found her husband dead with a piece of shrapnel in his head. That made every body very cautious and my dad got me a tin hat to wear.

One night when an air-raid was on there was series of explosions in our road, and on rushing out to see what had happened, discovered a large number of incendiary bombs had landed - those in the street were quickly put out by the ARP. Some of the houses at the bottom of our road were hit by the bombs and caught fire. My dad, whose fire station was a garage pre-war, and was next door to my grandparents’ house, turned out the engines and dealt with the blaze. Next morning I went round to my best friends house, in Mount Road, which was parallel to Gordondale road, to tell him the exciting news. He then took me into the garden of his house and showed me an un-exploded incendiary bomb, which was lying just out side the French windows. You can imagine the excitement that caused. I remember his mum saying "Oh George get rid of that" meaning I suppose for him to get some one to take it away, but being young boys, we were both about 11/12 then, we took her literally, and gently picked it up, each taking one of the fins and walked it round to the wardens hut. It caused some alarm to people we passed on the way and we got a right bollocking from the warden. We didn't think we were being brave, we were just doing as his mum said. My father, being a fireman, managed to get for me a defused incendiary bomb, the inside having been taken out and was hollow. The bottom of it had a screw cap. I thought I’d be very clever and use it to hide my farthings & pennies in. For greater security I hid it up the chimney in my mum’s bed-room.

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