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"This story was submitted to the People's War site by a volunteer from Community Education, Woodstock, on behalf of Pat Crutch, and has been added to the site with her permission. Pat fully understands the sites terms and conditions."

I was born at the end of 1937 — at age 2 I caught whooping cough and nearly died — this was in the first winter of the war; an added worry for my parents.

Sights
Search lights at Campsfield aerodrome. At the end of the war they shone into a V sign.

Blackout — father was ARP warden,so we were extra careful of showing a light.

I remember three strangers walking up to our front door, one carrying a budgerigar in its cage. These ‘refugees’ were my aunts and uncle from Clacton on Sea who I had never met. They ran a boarding house between the wars and because of the bombing of the east coast were forced home to Old Woodstock where they billeted with their brother and sisters.

The old primary school on Oxford Road was used as a billet for soldiers. I recall seeing them sitting in the playground peeling a huge pile potatoes for their supper.

In the later war years convoys of troops parked up overnight on the wide grass verge across the road from Hill Rise. Sometimes they were Americans and might give you chewing gum. I never got any because we were not allowed to cross the main road.
Long convoys were a nuisance when Miss Mansell our schoolteacher needed to cross us over the road to go home for dinner. We always gave a cheer when a lorry with a green flag went by as this signified the last vehicle.The former schoolroom in Old Woodstock was re-opened for infants when the military took over the Primary school in Oxford Road. On Friday afternoons Mr. Bowley, headmaster, called in to check the register. He also had classrooms at former Olivet chapel in Oxford Street, Hensington Road and at the Marlborough school in Shipton Road.

Sounds
Air raid warning siren and the ‘all clear’.
On radio Lord Haw Haw interrupted programmes to broadcast propaganda for the Germans. Someone always rushed to turn the radio off.

Smells
I liked the rubbery smell of my pink gas mask.
Schoolgirls were asked to knit scarves for sailors and the thick grey wool smelled oily.
(I never finished mine and as it was only about 8 inches long my mother stitched the sides together and fixed a fastener to make a bag for my coloured pencils).

Some other memories
I don’t remember being frightened about the war and never associated it with danger of death; probably because I had no memory of life before the war. I used to say ‘don’t forget there’s a war on’ which was a slogan used to remind people of shortages — but never understood the meaning.

Woodstock people are said to have turned out to watch and hear waves of bombers passing over on the nights that Coventry was bombed. My parents took us to my aunt’s home because she was on her own and stood watching from inside her front porch. I think I slept all the time.

One night when my father was on ARP duty my uncle, who lived next door, accidentally set fire to his chimney. Great alarm. It could have been a beacon to enemy aircraft; luckily none were around.

With so many men in the forces farmers were glad of any help at harvest time. My mother and local women worked alongside Land Army girls helping to harvest crops for local farmer Fred Whitlock. Pea picking was good fun; I don’t suppose children helped much but we did so until we were tired and allowed to play. Two of my schoolfriends always had to help as their mother was a war widow and glad of any extra money. Hill Rise was built in the late 1930’s and most of the 28 houses contained young families with children. Three of these families lost their father in the war; one with 4 children, one with 3 and one with 2.

My cousin, aged around 20, was required to do war work and sent to a factory in High Wycombe; she said they were making shells. I thought they were the ones you found on the beach!

Two road accidents associated with the war in Woodstock. A ‘queen mary’ lorry, used to remove bits of airplanes about the country, jack-knifed in the pitching hill (now Oxford Street) and badly damaged a house. My father met us from school at the Olivet that day. He guided us round Harrisons lane and down Hoggrove because the road was totally blocked. Another more serious accident when a small lorry carrying land girls crashed into the park wall along the causeway; many were injured.

My father worked at Bryans glove factory in Old Woodstock; I suppose they were making gloves for the military although it was mainly a sports glove manufacturer. My mother worked at home sewing thick rubber rings into shaped leather pieces. I think they were earpieces of flying helmets.

Some of my friends’ fathers were in uniform, working locally at the aerodrome. My father was too old to be called up; he had been in the first World War.

Sometimes my father was called to work in Worcester where the main gloving factories were. One time when he was away some of the worst air raids locally took place and I remember sitting under the table with my mother and sister which was very boring when you are only 3 or 4. My father’s family home was an old cottage with a cellar which he thought of making into an air raid shelter. My aunt was living in the house. Apparently both she and my mother refused to go down; thinking they might be buried alive.

When I went to school there were several evacuee children in the class. Some of them were living with local people who were related and others were billetted onto strangers. My father was a billetting officer and I understand that some of the children were badly behaved and he was asked to remove them.

For VE day there was a street party. We all wore red white and blue ribbons in our hair. The ribbons were about an inch wide; my friend Rosemary was very proud of her much wider ribbons but wouldn’t say where they were bought.

There were no holidays for anyone in the war years but after peace in Europe it was safe to go and stay with my aunt and uncle in Potters Bar in Middlesex. Here we saw bomb damage for the first time. Two houses at the top of their Avenue were destroyed by V2 rocket in the very last days of the war and all the occupants had died. While we were there the Japanese war ended and a local man ran into the road in the middle of the night shouting ‘unconditional surrender’. In the evenings we went to several large bonfire parties when effigies of Japanese generals were burned. I remember one notice saying ‘Tojo burns tonight’.

My aunt had been 8 months pregnant at the start of the war. Hers was a more serious war experience than her brothers and sisters in the country. Her husband drove a fire engine in London during the blitz; at night she had to take her baby down into the Anderson shelter in the garden. This seems to have been her main memory of the war; she often refers to it.

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