大象传媒

"This story was submitted to the People's War site by Linda and has been added to the website on behalf of Mr. Hemming with his permission and he fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

My name is John Henry Hemming. I was born on the 19th of March 1937 at St. Mary鈥檚 Hospital in Islington, London. I can remember from August 1942. We, that is, my mother, sister Pauline and myself had been bombed out three times. Because there was very little accommodation suitable, we slept at night on one of the platforms of the Archway underground station. In the mornings, we were sent to a church mission hall, where we had to wash and cleaned our teeth (all in cold water) and had breakfast. Then Mother would take my sister and myself to Duncolone Road Infants School. In the afternoons, Mother would collect us and we returned to the church mission hall for tea. At the weekends, it was boring, unless German aircraft bombed us. This pattern continued for about seven weeks.

Then my mother informed us that we had been given some new accommodation. The address was 24 Miranda Road, Upper Holloway, London, N19. The house was a terraced one on four floors. We were given the third floor, which were two rooms. My sister and myself later found out that the person who lived below was an elderly man who was 83 years of age. His name was Mr. Zarne and he was a German. He was considered to be too fragile to be placed in an interment camp. He had been like us, placed at various places but because of the continuous destruction, moved on. But now the police had placed him here only three days before we moved in. He lived on the next floor down. The only reason why we were given this place was because my mother was prepared to look after his basic needs. She had to report every Saturday to the Hornsey Road Police Station to let them know of any people who came to see him etc.

Mr. Zarne was a stocky built man, some five feet six inches tall, always cheerful with a white moustache. My sister and I used to chat with him a lot. At Christmas, my mother was able to obtain a chicken. My sister and I had three presents each, all of them second-hand, but we were happy to have them. The afternoon and evening we spent with Mr. Zarne, chatting and singing. We had a wonderful time. Our family may have been the only one in London where the British and Germans were united with the joy of the festive spirit, united by love.

The following Easter, Mr. Zarne died. We classified him as part of our own family. My father was serving in the 8th army in Africa at this time. This is just one of many incidents that happened to me during World War Two.

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