大象传媒

LIFE IN WORLD WAR 2
By Brian Packer

My war started in the July 1939, at the time we were living in married quarters at R.A.F. Watton in Norfolk. With war being imminent all civilian personnel were moved of the station, war or not we went to Highbury in North London to my paternal grand parents. We got nicely settled in when Herr Hitler decided to start bombing us, so our nightly place for sleeping was in the Anderson shelter in the front room, but if a raid was in our area it was the big communal shelter in the road outside the house. Early in 1941 after one horrendous night we came out into daylight and low and behold no house. Grandparents moved away to the Wembley area hoping to be away from the more vulnerable areas which were being targeted. It was at this point in the war, Mother, brother and myself moved to Grantham in Lincolnshire to be next door to my other grandparents, were we spent the time up to the cessation of hostilities.

Although we were over 100 miles from London bombing was always a threat, Grantham being on the main rail line to the north with large marshalling yards, and also on the A1 Great North Road which at the time was carrying the military and supplies for the war effort.

Living away from this particular part of Grantham to a degree we were somewhat safe and all we saw was the damage to adjacent houses and our school from which we had been moved some 2 months previous.

As the war moved on, as children our nightly pastime was to count the bombers leaving on the bombing missions to Germany, were we where, we were surrounded by airfields today they still exist many standing derelict and used by farmers the others are still mainline airfields. At daybreak most of my friends had paper rounds and took time out to count the bombers back, some were lucky but others not so, they were full holes, wings in tatters and flying on one engine but they were back.

That is basically my war but I still had my most vivid memory to come. It was 1946 mother took us to the railway station to meet family friend arrive home from a Japanese P.O.W. camp having been there since the fall of Singapore. I last saw in 1938 when I was 4 years old and I remember him as early 20鈥檚, a 6 footer and weighing 15 stone, in 1946 as a 12 year old what I saw will live with me forever, he looked about 50 years old, practically bent double and weighing barely 7 stone too weak to walk. This was soon put right to a certain degree with home cooking, but he was never the same again

Rationing, living in a country environment it was surprising were the food came from. We all had allotments, were we kept chickens and some had a pig or too. The only thing I can really remember missing is sweets, and as substitute we had Horlicks tablets these came from service personnel who obtained them from the ration boxes that were used in the aircrew dinghies.

The Americans were based around and about, but my only contact with them was to hang out near the Pubs they used for the chewing gum and chocolate they carried and willingly gave away.

Holidays, living in Lincolnshire made Skegness and Mablethorpe very convenient, mother always managed to get us away for a weeks break, and I remember either buying our own food or handing in our ration books for the landlady to buy for us. We visited London to see my Dads parents and had to sleep in the air raid shelters and on a visit to the West End we were caught in a raid and had to go down Trafalgar Square tube station until it was over.

Along the road just outside of the village was a P.O.W. camp mainly Italians with a few Germans thrown in. Quite decent chaps as I remember, they worked on the land and did a good job pleased to be away from the fighting. As far as we lads were concerned we spent a lot of time with them potato picking and harvesting. Quite a few of them were gifted being able to paint and carve wooden models. They soon got themselves in with the locals mainly due to their friendly nature, eventually marrying settling in to the English way of life and raising their families, and to this day, some are still around.

When it was all over I saw the Victory Parade whilst sitting on my dad鈥檚 shoulders outside Oxford Street tube station, and not long after that, I saw all the lights lit up in the West End and the monuments all free from their bombing protection.

The next few years it was still rationing, but things had started to get better, eventually we got sweets off ration, we had to queue at Nickerson鈥檚 shop in the Market Place Grantham for what we wanted.

I was now of an age when I became eligible military service so I was glad it was all over and hoping it would never happen again, but I suppose that is wishful thinking.

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