大象传媒

We lived in Stockwell in London, at the start of the war I was just two & half. Like a lot of other kids, when the Battle of Britain started, my brother, sister and I were evacuated to Newton Abbot in Devon; I was just over three years old. My Mum didn't come with us and we were boarded with a family in the town. My Dad was in the RAF.

When the Battle of Britain receded, we were allowed to come back to London, this must have been early in 1941. I remember the air raid sirens wailing every day; and we would rush to the Anderson shelter in our back garden for safety, although we would stand at the entrance looking up into the sky to see the 'action'.

The worst thing that I recall was the 'doodlebugs', they would come across the sky, then the engine would stop..... silence, then a wierd noise, just like a slate falling down a roof, then the enormous explosion.

We stayed on in London throughout the bombings and the 'V bombs', until early in 1944. At this time my Mum was expecting my younger brother; due to our house being bombed we had to live in the shelter most of the time. The Doctor said that my Mum should be in a safer place and contacted my Dad, who was at that time stationed at RAF Chigwell in Essex. He immediately obtained compassionate leave and came home to sort things out. My Mum and sister were sent to a nursing home somewhere in Barnet. There was nowhere for my brother and I to go, other than to stay in the shelter. My Dad packed a few of our things together and took us back to RAF Chigwell with him!

I remember arriving in a building which turned out to be the aircrews mess. We were left there by Dad who had to 'check-in' before a certain time. A man asked us who we were and what we were doing there; my brother told him that my Dad had left us there. Upon his return shortly after, I remember voices being raised and arguments going on for a long time. I remember Dad saying " You've got me here so you will have to look after these boys as well"

Amazingly, we were taken to a bedroom and 'set up home'. We stayed there for I believe over a week and were given various jobs to do; such as filling sand bags and other little tasks that kids could do.

(To enable us to stay there and be fed we were given 'numbers' which were on our bedroom door, just like the aircrews')

Early evening we would have our tea. Sometimes the aircrew would get me to play darts, if I managed to hit the bullseye they would give me a threepenny bit! (I saved all my winnings in an 'OXO' tin)

Finally, we were taken back home to meet up with my Mum and sister. Shortly after we were all evacuated to Cornwall; to a little village called St Agness. My younger brother was born in the hospital at Redruth in September 1944. We were given accomodation in a house on the cliff top at St Agness beach (which is now an Hotel)where we stayed until the end of the war in Europe.

Our life in Cornwall was very good, but that is another story!

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