大象传媒

[Recorded in 1979 and on 5 February 2002]

On 27th February 1938 I was born 12 miles south of London in Sutton, Surrey to Doris and Les Fenn. I was 2 years old when Britain was at war with Germany. During the years of 1940 鈥� 1941 London suffered heavy bombing that was called The Blitz 鈥� or what Germany called BLITZKRIEG, which meant 鈥渓ightning war鈥�. From where we lived we could see the red glow in the sky as London was burning. I would lie in my bed at night listening to the squadrons of bombers rumbling overhead on their way to Germany.

Some families had a shelter made of corrugated iron 鈥� this was called an Anderson Shelter. They were partially buried in the ground and then covered with soil. There was also a Morrison Shelter that was situated indoors and was a large heavy metal table under which the family would take refuge during a raid. Our first shelter was an Anderson but on one occasion when the air raid siren was sounded my Dad ran down the garden with me in his arms, stepped into the shelter and found himself up to his knees in water. So we then had a brick shelter built with thick walls. There were no windows and we had to use candles for light. (I still have the pretty little candleholder that we used in the shelter and I always think of air raid shelters when a match is struck). My Dad installed an electric light before he was sent to Burma with the R.A.F. in 1942. My Mother and I went up to Blackpool in the north of England to see him off. It seemed an exciting adventure to me and I could not have imagined what was going through my Mum鈥檚 mind at that time.

Before we had any shelter we would take refuge in an outside toilet and the family would take turns to sit on the toilet seat 鈥� I don鈥檛 think I ever got a turn! Large communal shelters were built underground and in the street for people who were away from home and needed shelter if the sirens went off. We would have to use these on many an occasion. Most people would sleep in their own Air Raid Shelter at nighttime. In London people would often sleep in the Underground Stations. The warning siren was a very loud note that went up and down 鈥� when the Air Raid had finished and it was safe to leave the shelter the siren would give out one long note 鈥� this was called the 鈥渁ll clear鈥�. We all carried gas masks in a little cardboard box. Mine, like other children鈥檚 was called a 鈥淢ickey Mouse鈥�. We had 鈥渃riss crossed鈥� strips of sticky paper on the windows of our flat so that in the event of the blast smashing them it wouldn鈥檛 shatter into the room. When a window did smash it was only replaced by a piece of asphalt sheeting. Mum would protect the furniture with covers 鈥� in particular our Marconi Radiogram that was Dad鈥檚 pride and joy. It survived with little damage. (We didn鈥檛 have a television until 1953 for the Queen鈥檚 Coronation.) My cousin Joan who was 17 was living with us at this time. She had returned from work one evening when there was an air raid. She had been cooking an egg in a frying pan. Some of our ceilings had come down in the blast and it was discovered that above her was balancing a flat iron on a piece of ceiling board 鈥� the iron had been put up in the loft. She was taken to hospital in shock.

In July 鈥� October 1940 there was an Air Battle called the Battle of Britain that was mainly fought over the South East of England and prevented the Germans from invading us. The bombing continued until when, in June 1944 V1 Rockets (Pilotless Planes) 鈥� we called them 鈥淒oodlebugs鈥� were falling on London and the South of England. When my cousin Joan was in the shelter with us she couldn鈥檛 bear to hear the doodlebugs coming so she would put records on her wind-up gramophone. Most of the raids were directed at London and other large Cities along the east coast of England and all the airfields and docks, but the bombs would often miss their target. One summer鈥檚 evening in 1944 I had been put to bed in the Shelter and I was fast asleep when a bomb dropped in the next road to ours. When my Mother rushed into the shelter to look at me I was still fast asleep but covered in dust. Posters were displayed in the street showing children and saying 鈥淢others 鈥� Send them out of London鈥�. It was at this time my Mum decided we should evacuate our home and go somewhere safe, especially as my Dad was away in Burma. We would send letters and parcels to Dad and he would send to us but the post took a long time to be delivered to and from the Services. When I learnt how to knit I made my Dad a scarf out of R.A.F. blue wool 鈥� it was all of 6鈥� long! I still have it with the letter that Dad wrote thanking me for it. One summer evening my Mum saw a bright light shimmering upstairs and had rushed up the stairs with a bucket of sand 鈥� she thought it was an incendiary bomb 鈥� it in fact was the late sun reflecting on a mirror. My Mum was a very brave little lady and never showed the fear and distress she must have been feeling. I always felt safe when I was with her. We had ration books and my Mum managed very well 鈥� we traded our sugar coupons with a neighbour for their cheese or bacon coupons. Any scraps of leftover food including potato peelings would be deposited in a 鈥減ig bin鈥� located on the corner of each street. These would be emptied every few days but would invariably be crawling with maggots. I don鈥檛 know if the pigs were ever actually fed this disgusting diet. Occasionally I would take some scraps to a neighbour who kept chickens and I would often come home with an egg.

Mum and I went to the local council offices to find us somewhere to evacuate to. As I was an only child and Dad was away Mum decided we should go together. We were offered a place in a village called Norton in Gloucestershire in the West of England. On a Wednesday in August 1944 we left Paddington Station in London on a steam train. The train was full of service men being transported around the country and we had to sit on our suitcases the whole of the journey. Hundreds of children who were older than me were evacuated to all parts of Britain and some to America 鈥� they were sent on their own with their name and address on a label round their necks.

We made our way from Gloucester Station in a little country bus and were put down, hot and dusty, at the end of a long driveway. (110 yards to be precise). We trekked up the driveway to encounter the Vicar and his Aunt taking tea on the neatly clipped front lawn. This ritual was carried out with full ceremony with delicately made sandwiches and a sponge cake (which was made to last a week) during the summer months.

We were taken up the main staircase and shown to our room at the head of the stairs. For the rest of our time there we all had to use the 鈥渂ack stairs鈥�. The one time I crept down the main staircase (it was quicker) I fell down them! In the room there were two beds, each with several flock mattresses. There was also an open grate where the mice would play. This was particularly scary to me when my Mum would go to Evensong with the Vicar and leave me with a night-light, a book and half a Mars Bar. The rest of our luggage arrived later. I chose to take my dolls pram 鈥� it didn鈥檛 take long for the springing to break on the rough ground 鈥� how I wish I had taken my tricycle.

We were safe in our new home set in the heart of the Gloucestershire countryside. It was a Victorian Manse 鈥� a Vicarage 鈥� built of red brick in 1846. It had many interesting rooms full of beautiful furniture and china. I was only allowed a peek at these. The Vicar鈥檚 name was Kendall F. Evans-Prosser and he lived there with his Sister Mrs. Price. My Mum and I lived there rent-free. In return Mum would help Mrs. Price clean the house and be generally useful. The rooms that were lived in were cleaned every day. I recall my Mum cleaning the Vicar鈥檚 study early one morning by the light of a candle and she managed to mix up the Vicar鈥檚 shoes. He actually went out with one brown shoe and one black shoe. He was a very kind man and laughed about it. My Mum helped with the cooking 鈥� a large Aga cooker dominated the kitchen and for small cooking jobs a primus stove was used. There was no electricity in the house and we had to use oil lamps. We would get our water for drinking and washing from a pump that was at the end of the driveway. Mum would have to collect the water in pails. The seasons changed each one to its extreme. Spring in Norton was glorious 鈥� the lambs in the fields and the primroses along the banks of the long driveway. It was a severe winter in the year we were there and we had 10鈥� high snowdrifts around the house so we had to melt the snow for our water supply. On one occasion when it was icy I went to 鈥渉elp鈥� Mum collect the water 鈥� she had a bucket in each hand and was staggering down a slight incline when she slipped on her bottom and the two pails slid on for several yards. A milk float would deliver milk, which was ladled, out of churns into our own jug. The milk float crashed at the crossroads one morning. The smell lingered for a long time.

The Manse stood in acres of land, some of which was rented to a farmer for grazing. I would roam about in the woods and the orchard, feed the geese that were being fattened for Christmas (one flew off a few days before much to the relief of my Mother as she wasn鈥檛 happy to be fattening them up to be eaten). From the corner of the front lawn I would watch the convoys of military vehicles trundling down the arterial roads. I loved it all and found everything an adventure 鈥� possibly with the added security of being with my Mother. We packed up some beautiful local apples and sent them home to family and friends.

There were two classes in the village school, I was in the infants the other was the juniors. I made new friends but I missed all my friends from home. I was late home one day and Mum came looking for me 鈥� she found me sitting in a workmen鈥檚 hut with some Italian P.O.W. road workers. I had fallen over and they had cleaned me up and put a plaster on my knee. They spoke of their own children in Italy. My Mum became involved with the village and joined the Mothers鈥� Union. She knitted a great deal for refugees in Europe and I was rewarded by her efforts. A parcel arrived at the Vicarage from Belgium labeled 鈥淔or an English Evacuee鈥�. It was a beautifully made toyshop made from wood. It was fitted out with scales and packets of imitation food. This was very much cherished and brought back to Surrey the following year. There were some local people who were suspicious of 鈥渢hese evacuees鈥�. They hadn鈥檛 been affected by bombs and didn鈥檛 understand what life had been like for us at home near London. Every Friday the Vicar would drive us in to Gloucester for a weekly shop. He would take an old lady from the village 鈥� she would sit in the corner of the car as far away from us as possible refusing to speak to us. Her attitude to us did change as the weeks went by.

Mum worked very hard during our time in Norton. I 鈥渉elped鈥� occasionally and was involved in some industrious cleaning of a heavy wooden wardrobe one day and was instructed, by Mrs. Price, on how to apply 鈥渆lbow grease鈥�. I remember being shown a silver buttonhook and demonstrated on how it worked. The Vicar and his Aunt enjoyed our presence for those few months and we were asked to stay. The V2 Rockets, which had rained down on England had now ceased. The Vicar was sure he could find work for my Daddy, but we decided to return to our home and start a new life when he returned from the war.

We left Norton Vicarage on 16th April 1945. Tears were shed when we left. We had been grateful to our hosts that they had given us shelter during those last months of the war. We returned to our home 鈥� most of the windows in our road, including our own, were broken and had torn curtains flapping in the breeze. This amused me at the time but I was to suffer severe nightmares for some considerable time after the war. VE Day was celebrated on 8th May 1945 鈥� there were parties and much celebrating 鈥� we hung flags out of the window. There were special street parties for the children.

My Dad returned home from Burma on 16th December 1945. We had put up a banner welcoming him home. He wasn鈥檛 expected until the 17th 鈥� I was to be in a pantomime at school and my mother was putting the finishing touches to my costume. There was a knock at the door 鈥� I answered it to find my Daddy standing there looking very smart in his demob. suit. I jumped up into his arms and he carried me into the room where my Mummy was. What a happy day for us all. I didn鈥檛 go to school next day! When I did return to school all the children were given a special certificate signed by King George VI thanking us all for being so brave.

We were lucky to have all family and close friends return home safely. My cousin Joan鈥檚 fianc茅 Alf survived the sinking of the Aircraft Carrier HMS Eagle in the Mediterranean in August 1942. He was to have part of his account of his experiences published in EAGLE鈥橲 WAR 鈥� The War Diary of an Aircraft Carrier.

鈥淲hen The Lights Came On In London鈥� again we went to London especially to see them. We had our photograph taken in Trafalgar Square against the backdrop of the coloured lights playing on the fountains.

We had a 鈥淢ental Hospital鈥� a few miles from our home and I remember seeing men walking about in the town wearing special blue suits 鈥� they were mentally scarred victims of the war. They must have been deemed harmless to walk out alone but they were made so obvious by their clothing.

It wasn鈥檛 long before Dad took Mum and me shopping to buy us some treats. Our little family was complete again.

It was to be another 9 years before we started a new life in a new house in Stevenage New Town.

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