大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Barbara Murray of the Belfast Education & Library Board / Holywood Arches Library on behalf of Edward Cadden [the author] and has been added to the site with his permission.
The author fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

Introduction

I was born on 7th January 1940 in a Belfast nursing home. My mother Jane was in her 33rd year and my elder sister, Jean, had celebrated her 10th birthday on 10th December.
I was named 鈥楨dward鈥� after my father who, as, the Regimental Quarter Master of 2nd Batt. Royal Ulster Rifles was on tour going to N.E. France with 3rd Division of the B.E.F. commanded by Maj. Gen. Bernard Law Montgomery. My father was in his 38th year and had served with the R.I.R. and R.U.R. for over 18 years (of which 16 were overseas in Egypt, India, Sudan and Palestine). My sister had been born in Poona during the Regiment鈥檚 Indian tour.
From 1937 to 1939 the R.U.R. had served in 16 Infantry Brigade in Palestine commanded by Brigadier Bernard Law Montgomery and with R.A.F. Air Support commanded by Group Captain Arthur Harris.
My father got leave in late spring 1940 to see his new son at our home in Belmore Street.
He arrived back in France just as the balloon went up and after the severe fighting in Belgium he was evacuated from the beaches at Bray-Dunes.
When the regiment was rallied and re-equipped in England my father was commissioned and we joined him in his first Tour in 1941 as Q.M. of a training depot for the A.T.S. (predecessor of the W.R.A.C.) in Dorchester.

Baedeker and 鈥淥鈥� Grange

My Earliest memory is in Dorchester in 1942. The R.A.F. raids on Germany provoked Goering to say that he would use Baedeker鈥檚 Tourist Guide as his 'Agenda Guide' for Luftwaffe bombing of England. Cathedral towns like Bath, Wells and York suffered and Dorchester with it鈥檚 Thomas Hardy connections came up on the target list.
I was whipped out of my warm cot and taken to the Morrison Shelter under the stairs. I caused my mother and sister problems by my wish to witness the sources of the interesting bangs outside.
Shortly afterwards my father was promoted to Captain and posted as Q.M. to the London T.A. Battalion of the R.U.R. 鈥� the London Irish Rifles.
Wartime bureaucracy allowed for requisitioning of spare accommodation for military or government uses. From our requisitioned billet in Dorchester we moved to the home of a Jewish family the 鈥楻oes鈥� in Edgware.
My interest in aircraft was well established. In March 1943 our landlady took me to see the 鈥淲ings For Victory鈥� show in Trafalgar square. Municipal funds to buy Spitfires had been started in 1940. With a more offensive role for the R.A.F, cities made targets to buy Lancaster Bombers at 拢40,000 a machine. In parallel with the London show were similar events in Leeds and Manchester.
We left the Underground at the Embankment and I remember hordes of Barrage Balloons visible around the Thames. At the National Gallery end of Trafalgar Square sat Lancaster 鈥淥 Orange鈥�, a veteran of 27 operational sorties with an elevated walkway under its nose to permit closer inspection and a scoreboard under its starboard wing with the cash target and the score of contributions to date.
As we got close to the 鈥淟anc鈥� the alert sounded and we adjourned to the Tube Station which was crammed with sheltering people and the rows of bunk beds for those sheltering during the night raids.
With the 鈥楢ll Clear鈥� the trains started to run again and we returned to Edgware where we found my mother trying to control my sister who was in a near hysterical state. The 鈥楢lert鈥� had coincided with closing time for her school. Instead of the staff taking the children to a shelter, they had sent them off home. Jean had sheltered in a shop doorway as the aerial battle progressed overhead. Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome was unheard of then: about two years later Jean鈥檚 stress came back; triggered by viewing a newsreel of the capture of Belsen Concentration Camp.

Back to Belfast

My father in late 1943 was posted as Q.M. to a secret establishment at Westward Ho near Bideford in Devon where devices for the Normandy landings were being developed. It was an unaccompanied Tour and we had to remain in Belfast.
Our crossing from Stranraer was spent on deck as a precaution against possible torpedo attack by a U-boat.
We were staying in my great grandmother鈥檚 home in Florenceville Drive on the Ormeau Road. Grannie Ellen was in her 90鈥檚 and her daughter, my Granny England and my mother鈥檚 brother, Jack, shared the house with three arrivals from England. This would be our home for the next three years except for a few weeks spent in Portadown when the threat of air-raids was renewed and England was suffering more bombing.
Everyday life had more controls in the late war years. The Blackout with no street lighting, heavy 鈥榣ight-proof鈥� curtains on the windows and torches were essential tools after dark. The problem was also that of getting replacement batteries for your torch!
Florenceville, like many other streets had a row of rectangular brick and concrete air-raid shelters along one side occupying about half the width of the street.
Everybody had Identity Cards and our numbers on the cards became our post-war National Health Number.
Ration Books were issued for foodstuffs and clothing. You were required to register with a grocer and a butcher and use their shops. Some of the enclosed stamps were snipped out on purchase or in other cases the shopkeeper cancelled them out with a stamp or squiggled on his initials.
Gas masks had been generally issued but carrying them at all times dwindled. Adults had black airtight masks with a celluloid eyepiece and a protruding filter snout. I had a red 鈥淢ickey-Mouse鈥� mask that was supposed to be less frightening for me. Babes in arms had a cot-like airtight case with a large window in which they lay whilst their carer hand-pumped air through a filter on the side.
Many foods had standardised Ministry of Food Labels and standardised M.of F. formulae- in particular, cooking fat and margarine. The manufacturers of 鈥淪tork鈥� margarine put regular adverts in the press to remind us that -
鈥楶eace would bring us back their inimitable product to spread on our piece鈥�.
Tin foil wrapping had vanished because the foil was used by the R.A.F. to jam enemy radar.
Cigarettes were rationed by virtue of their scarcity.
Sweet rations were supplemented by fathers in the forces saving up their issue of chocolate.
Bananas and other semi-tropical fruits were not available due to priority for shipping space.
The Conservatory and Tropical Ravine at the Botanic Gardens in Belfast supplied their produce to hospitals for special diets.
Petrol and coal were rationed but you could supplement your coal ration by purchases of coal-brick, peat or logs from Itinerant traders with horse-drawn carts.
Electric vans with rechargeable batteries were in common use by commercial firms.
Trams and trolley buses were the main forms of public transport within the city. At the 鈥榚nd of lines鈥� for these conveyances you could get a N.I. Road Transport Board Bus or make use of the extensive rail system of the day.
The Lagan Canal was still operational and was an economic way of transporting bulk cargo like coal.
Some vehicles such as taxis were converted to run on coal gas and had distinctive rectangular balloons of gas on their roofs.
Home delivery tradesmen were common with bread, milk, vegetables, fish and kindling.
Horses and donkeys were brought back to favour as draught animals
Newspapers were restricted in size and popular weekly magazines and comics were split into groups and came out on alternate weeks e.g. 鈥淏eano鈥� one week and 鈥淒andy鈥� the next.
There was a great emphasis on economical use of fuel and electricity. Re-cycling was termed 鈥淪alvage鈥�. Economy in spending was emphasised also with a cartoon newspaper ad character 鈥撯�楾he Squander- Bug鈥� portrayed as an ally of Hitler and the Japanese.
A champion of the salvage movement was the 鈥榮kin-man鈥� who gave you a bucket to collect your potato peelings and other organic leftovers; he collected these once a week to feed his pigs.

The Yanks

When we came home to Belfast in 1943 the first US Army arrivals had already left for action in North Africa where they suffered appalling attrition. The young US G.I鈥檚 we saw were preparing for the Normandy landings. The Ormeau Park had most of its area closed off to the public as it was used as a vehicle depot. In a passage along the Ravenhill Road you could see trucks and half trucks packed tightly across the former golf course. There were contingents in the space later taken over by Belfast City Hospital and in Sunnyside Street. Indeed now into the 21st century the Kings Bridge has not fully recovered from frequent crossings by US tanks and heavy vehicles 61 years ago!
Outside the Ormeau Bakery there was a large static water tank for fire fighting where I watched G.I鈥檚 throwing silver coins in the water: these were eagerly retrieved by local lads who dived in like Pacific native divers.

Going to visit my Aunt Gladys in Ebor Street at the Bog Meadows end of the Donegall Road, the tram in which my mother and I were travelling, was struck by a US Army vehicle.
It was a mobile crane and in closing up to what is now an entrance to the City Hospital, the driver forgot about the long crane boom extending beyond his cab.
At least one woman received injuries from flying glass. I recall her being treated by US Army first-aiders who took out the glass splinters and painted her wounds with iodine. This was reminiscent of the fashion conscious practice of young ladies who would paint their legs with suntan lotion and draw on a seam line with indelible pencil, as they could not get supplies of stockings.

With embarkation for D-Day the G.I鈥檚 vanished like snow of a ditch and the Ormeau park had not a vehicle to be seen.

The final chapter of our friendly invasion was witnessed with my father in 1946 when General George Patton; complete with his pair of ivory-handled revolvers and topped with the helmet he had designed; stood smiling and waving on the steps of the City Hall. He dedicated the Pillar, which commemorates the arrival in 1942 of the US Army.

The School Boy

I started at Rosetta Public Elementary School on 7th January 1945 having been refused admission on 5th January, as I was not then five years old. Additional clothing coupons were provided for acquisition of a school uniform 鈥� jacket, school badge tie, cap and 鈥楤urberry鈥� (a raincoat akin to the Burberry style but not of their making). Caps were mandatory and the headgear for all 鈥榗ivilised鈥� schoolboys for the next 20 years.
Textbooks and stationery had to be bought and parents had a choice of new books or trade-ins from former pupils. The writing instruments were pencils, which were in short supply. When you graduated to the use of a pen, a fountain pen was forbidden and you used a penholder with insertable nibs, which were also in short supply.

My main memory of Rosetta was when we were halted from moving between classrooms and turned to face the flagpole in silence as the flag was lowered to half-mast for the death of President Roosevelt.

I missed V.E. Day by running to see a bomber climbing out of Sydenham when I fell at the entrance of an air-raid shelter 鈥� from this I developed a sceptic knee. This was followed by a bout of whooping cough and my certificate of attending school on V.E. Day was delivered to my home.
I also missed out on the celebrations for schoolchildren in the U.C. (Ulster Cricket Grounds) beside the Curzon Cinema.
As V.J. Day approached: I was recovering from my sickies on Doctor鈥檚 advice: with a dose of good sea air at Ballywalter.
My mother took me one day to Ballyhalbert Airfield where we met up with her youngest sister Beulah who was serving in the W.A.A.F. We watched a football match with fighter planes dispersed at the far side of the football pitch. Despite my earnest pleas nobody took me over to see them. The object of the visit was not to serve my interest in aircraft, but my mum鈥檚 interest in Beulah鈥檚 new fianc茅 鈥� my future Uncle Andie, who was playing in the match. He had been involved in Air Sea Rescue and would soon revert to hi family trade of fishing out of Portavogie.

I learned the significance of the airport fifty years later from a historian鈥檚 research. The weather over Northern Ireland is of significance for future weather over Great Britain. The aircraft were Spitfires and Hurricanes, which made daily 鈥淭hum鈥� flights. The Hurricanes had all guns and armour removed to allow them to climb in an ever widening spiral to 38,000 feet radioing back at each 1000 foot mark the temperature and humidity. The high altitude Spitfires could climb even higher doing the same task for use in the weather forecasts

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