大象传媒

A schoolboy鈥檚 wartime memories of Nevendon, Essex - Part One

Part one of an oral history interview with Mr. Dennis Mabey conducted by Jenny Ford on behalf of Bedford Museum.

鈥淚 was born in London on the 29th of July 1931 in the middle of a severe thunderstorm. My parents, my brother and sister lived at 350 Hackney Road. This was 鈥楾urner鈥檚 Dining Rooms鈥� a coffee shop in London鈥檚 East End. My mother had been brought up in small villages near Chelmsford and was anxious to bring up her own children in the countryside. An opportunity arose in the summer of 1934 when we moved to the 鈥楤lue Bird Caf茅鈥� at Nevendon on the Southend arterial road, the A127. Nevendon was a small village about 3 miles south of Wickford. My father then had to travel up to London every day by car to his business, 鈥楾urner鈥檚 Dining Rooms鈥�. My father was able to keep the business going and it flourished during the war, flourished quite well because he had a 鈥榝ood allowance鈥�. It鈥檚 Turner鈥檚 Dining Rooms so you can get your breakfast there, you can get your dinner there and if you wanted you could get your tea there. OK it wouldn鈥檛 be what you and I approve of today at Sainsbury鈥檚 because it was all wartime but my father had been a Chef in the Army. He鈥檇 been trained as a professional Chef at the 鈥楬ouse of Commons鈥� and when he was called up and joined the Army for the First World War. That was actually very amusing really, to be trained as Chef. Now here鈥檚 a Chef, it was very amusing. I could never tell with my father where truth went actually into imagination but I鈥檓 pretty confident about the stories he told us about the Catering School he attended. They had a graveyard outside where the food that was spoil was buried! Of course when he left, he passed with flying colours and all the girls waved goodbye, 鈥楪oodbye, Chef.鈥� I can just see that. And then of course he arrived on the Western Front and that wasn鈥檛 funny. The first week he was up on the front line and it鈥檚 all muddy and dirty. My father didn鈥檛 like that. Someone mentioned back at the Chateau they wanted a professional Chef and within a week he was back at the Chateau and cooking for the Officers and General French when General French came for a visit. He had to get a special menu my brother鈥檚 got a copy of that special menu that he did for General French. I said to him, 鈥榃hat do you remember about the dinner, was it a success?鈥� And he said, 鈥極h, I don鈥檛 know. The thing I remember is the Colonel knocked over General French鈥檚 brandy and he wasn鈥檛 very pleased.鈥� So his war was a very comfortable war, thank you very much.

My early memories relate to my life at the 鈥楤lue Bird Caf茅鈥�. Our idyllic rural existence was soon ended. One day in 1938 I read a headline in the Daily Mail 鈥楶eace n Our Time.鈥� However my father and mother did not trust Hitler. They were not surprised when war was declared on 3rd September 1939. My parents quickly made three important decisions. One, my father would keep his business open in the East End of London and travel home to the Caf茅 only on Saturdays, this decision was forced by strict petrol rationing. Two, my mother would keep the Caf茅 open despite the virtual elimination of traffic on the arterial road apart from a few troop convoys. Three, we children would not be evacuated although the arterial road would provide a good landing for gliders and transport aircraft.

There was an immediate increase in air activity because there were Fighter Stations at Hornchurch, North Weald and Southend. My father gave me an aircraft recognition handbook so I could distinquish between 鈥榝riend鈥� and 鈥榝oe鈥�. The arterial road was used frequently for low flying training from September 1939 to April 1940. One morning in the winter, an open cockpit trainer, a Miles Magister flew past below the level of the Caf茅 roof. In the front cockpit I saw a figure wearing a thick RAF greatcoat and a forage cap and goggles, I had expected to see a flying suit, helmet and goggles. In retrospect the aircraft may perhaps of have been flown from the rear cockpit where flying suit, helmet and goggles were worn. A Searchlight Station was established at Doe鈥檚 Hill Farm, about two miles north of the Caf茅, the Searchlight was guarded by a Lewis gun mounted in a sand bagged enclosure. Off-duty soldiers walked down to the Caf茅 for tea and cakes in daytime and to the pub for beer in the evenings. My mother welcomed the soldier鈥檚 custom. However in the excitement of Christmas Eve 1939 my mother forgot to take in the Chef notice board and on Christmas morning the Chef had gone! My parents were both annoyed because it had been expensive. My mother considered the possible suspects. She selected soldiers rolling back to camp rather than drunks. When the soldiers next came to the Caf茅 they were rather sheepish and asked my mother what had happened to the Chef notice. She replied, 鈥楽he didn鈥檛 know. But she wished it would be returned just as it had been taken, at night!鈥� The next morning the Chef was back in his proper place. Unfortunately he had been scratched and scarred on the front and back. Later the soldiers confessed to their crime. On Christmas Day 1939 the Chef had been issued with a rifle and put on guard over a barrel of beer. All the soldiers wrote their name on it. Wisely these names were removed before the Chef was returned, although my mother would not have charged them.

Initially we had no air raid shelter. When the warning sirens went at night my brother, sister and I had to stretch out to sleep under the large table in the kitchen. However, an Anderson shelter made of galvanised iron soon became available. My father advised on it鈥檚 installation, remembering his own observations on German dug outs in the 1914-1918 War which were always much more comfortable than the British. Our Anderson shelter was half buried in our front garden with the rectangular access at one end facing the south. It was given a concrete floor with a drain in the south west corner, my father correctly anticipated condensation problems. The shelter was covered with earth excavated for camouflage, warmth and extra protection. My mother planted this cover with flowers in the spring. In front of the access space my father built two blast walls at right angles made from old tea boxes filled with rubble, these were roofed by an old wooden door primarily to keep out the rain. Across the access space he fitted a steel door made from an old sign from the Caf茅. He then paid a local carpenter to fit a pair of bunk beds on either side of the shelter. When the Blitz started my mother and sister took the lower berths while my brother and I took the upper berths, there was no berth for my father. Light was provided by a large hurricane lamp which smelt of paraffin after a few hours. Thanks to our shelter we were safe and comfortable during the 鈥楤litz鈥� and 鈥楤attle of Britain鈥� in 1940 and the flying bomb, 鈥榙oodle bug鈥� attacks in 1944. Our hurricane lamp provided sufficient light for my mother to teach us to play Whist in 1940. This was a good introduction to Bridge which I learnt to play in 1954 in Bedford.

The so called 鈥楶honey War鈥� ended abruptly in May 1940 when the Germans breached the impregnable Maginot Line and our Army retired hurriedly towards Dunkirk. Owing to unusual atmospheric conditions we heard gun fire and explosions from Dunkirk quite clearly in Nevendon although about 200 miles away. A group of soldiers evacuated from Dunkirk were billeted briefly for recuperation in Nevendon鈥檚 large Victorian Vicarage. They came into the Caf茅 for tea and cakes but were clearly shaken by their experience. On coming home on Saturdays and discussing the weeks disasters my father would say, 鈥楾he Germans will eat us, boy!鈥� He had been impressed by the German鈥檚 general performance in the First World War in addition to the superiority of their dug outs.

Invasion now seemed a real threat as the 鈥楤attle of Britain鈥� was fought above our heads. One afternoon three of our fighters were falling in flames at once while we were in the shelter. My mother saw one pilot 鈥榖ail out鈥�. His parachute opened and drifted down towards the Nevendon cross roads, my mother immediately poured a cup of hot sweet tea (recommended for shock), walked to his landing point and handed it to him as soon as he touched down and released his parachute. He was grateful but said, 鈥業 must get back to Hornchurch Aerodrome at once!鈥� and started to gather his parachute together. One of our two of our village policemen then cycled up: he must have been watching the dog fight too. He stopped the first car going west along the south carriage way of the arterial road to take both pilot and parachute back to Hornchurch. About that time another pilot, a Pole, was not so lucky. His body fell without a parachute on the narrow strip of green between the two carriage ways of the arterial road. Sadly his head was never found 鈥�

The huge refineries at Shell Haven were bombed in day light. They were set alight and thick black smoke billowed up for two days. The arterial road was considered a potential landing strip for gliders or Junkers 52 transports so as a mild deterrent pairs of pylons with wire stretched across the top were provided at intervals of about half a mile along the road. A few small brick 鈥榩ill boxes鈥� were built in the fields beside the road with gun apertures for the defenders, if there were any! Nevendon cross roads was considered a vantage point roughly half way between Southend and London so some ten to twenty Scottish soldiers were deployed in it鈥檚 defence. Much to our delight the soldiers actually installed their Bren gun in the 鈥榟ide鈥� that my friend Arthur had selected as a base for our homemade wooden rifles. The Officer in charge of the soldiers asked my mother whether his men could use the Club Room beside the Caf茅 as a billet? My mother was pleased to accept the rent offered, ten shillings a night for this service. There were now few customers on the road. However, my mother soon noticed young women from Wickford going into the billet with the soldiers. She contacted the Officer and ordered 鈥楾his must stop!鈥� So the soldiers moved somewhere else and Arthur and I re-occupied our 鈥榟ide鈥�.

There was another exciting event one night in the autumn of 1940. A parachute carrying a large landmine drifted down towards our ancient church dedicated to St. Peter. The mine was caught in the Doe鈥檚 Hill Searchlight and the Lewis gun was aimed at it but without success. The landmine exploded on landing. It excavated a huge crater but only caused moderate damage to the church and neighbouring houses. We slept sweetly in our shelter through the incident which is now commemorated by a stained glass window in the church. We were glad to use the shelter during the intermittent air activity from the autumn of 1940 to June 1944.鈥�

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