大象传媒

My school was in Essendine Road. It was a large Victorian red brick building with seperate entrance and playgrounds for girls and boys. Woe betide you if you were found using or in the wrong one. One of the class rooms was reinforced with bulks of timber and when the alarm went signaling a raid all the school crowded in it. The headmaster, a Mr Strong, played us music on the Gramaphone. He told us that not all the Germans were evil and to prove it he played to us the music of Bethoven, Brahms, Motzart and others. It was here that I learnt my love of the classics, but some pieces still take me back to that cramped classroom with the sound of aircraft, guns and bombs.

To us children the inability of the Jerry's to hit such a large stucture as our school and give us a couple of days off seemed to show that the Luftwaffe were not much good and we were bound win, but there was a lot more to come before that day. I remember looking up at night and seeing the searchlights pick up a plane, it looked like a silver moth, then the puffs of smoke alround it and Mum calling me in in case I was hit by the falling scrapnel. We collected this metal plus whatever else we could find, sometimes the objects were still live. We were warned at school against this dangerous hobby and shown examples of what was dangerous like 'butterfly bombs and other boobytraps.

If a class mate did not show up for lessons they had either moved or 'bought it'. If it was the latter their name was mentioned at morning assembly and included in the prayers, I can't recall any sadness or emotion, it was just one of those things. I remember one boy being called out of class, the teacher, said something to him, gave him some sweets and he went out, he did not return. I learnt later that his Mother had been killed by a bomb, his Father was already dead, and he had been sent to the country as an evacuee. We took this sort of this as normal.

Clothing, like everthing else, was on ration so we had to take care and we had to change when we got home into 'playclothes'. My sister and I were lucky as we had shoes to wear for school which we were not allowed to scuff, they had studs on the soles and blakeys on the heels. I remember Mum was a dab hand at repairing them, in fact she seemed to be able to make new clothes from old. We wore wellingtons out of school, some children wore wellingtons all the time as they had no shoes. Boys then wore short trousers until the age of 14. They made your legs sore where the bottom of the leg rubbed just above the knee, it was worse when the were wet. The wellingtons made the lower leg sore where they rubbed so we would role our socks over the top to try to pad them, again it was worse in the rain and cold. In doors we went barefoot.

We were evacuated again, this time to Devon, Cleve Farm near Morleigh. My sister and I went to school in Kingsbridge which entailed a long early morning walk to the station then a train to the town. If you were not much good at the lesson, or you skived, you were sent to work in the garden. Mum would visit the town sometimes to shop and she would pass the school, we were told that if she ever saw us working in the garden we would get a hidding. We made sure we never were. We helped out on the farm with the haymaking, taking the horses to Morleigh to the Blacksmith and other chores. My sister and I would search the hedges around the farm yard for eggs, the chickens were not particular where they laid them.

At harvest, we followed the reaper binder and put the sheves of corn into stooks, then we brought them into the yard and onto the rick. Riding back on the cart with a sheath of corn on my fork held in the air, the last sheath, stays with me. Then there was the threshing, a steam tractor came with a big box of a threshing machine. I can still smell the steam and straw, it was the first time I ever tasted cider, it was wonderful, but I was told off by my Mum when she found out. I learnt a love for the countryside then and that has stayed with me.

Living conditions were primative, no electricity only oil lamps or candles. We had a large open fire for heat and cooking, pots held on hooks in the chimney or on a trivet, no wonder Mum did not like it in the country, "Not enough chimneys" about she would say. The area became full of Yanks, then one day they were all gone and we heard of the invasion. My mother said that this was the end of the war and we could return to London, just in time for the V1 flying bombs, or doodle bugs as we called them, and the V2 rockets.

When we returned the rationing seemed worse, maybe it was myself getting bigger or being on a farm we had scrounged a bit more food. I recall buying large very hard 'dog bicuits', you got four for a penny, and nibbling them in secret, one would last a whole day or more. We would watch the doodle bugs pass over, if they stopped we dived for cover, they made a woomwoom noise, then silence followed by a great bang of an explosion. The V2's were different, there was an enormous explosion followed by a rushing sound, you had no warning what so ever. We were given a Morrison shelter, a large iron table with wire round the sides. We were so confidant that Nan was taking care of us by now that although Mum put us inside she slept on top.

Mum managed to take us on holiday to Dorset about this time. We stayed in an old bus in an orchard just outside Wareham. We walked to the 'Blue Pool' and visited Swanage were we saw on big stone globe just where Egypt was. There were the Tillywhim caves and best of all Corfe Castle. One day we visited Lulworth cove, there was a party of men, it tuned out they were Italian prisoners of war, with a big yellow life raft. My sister and I wanted to go and play with them but Mum would not allow this as they were still the enemy. I feel, even now, we would have been quite safe, but Mum had become very protective of us, she saw the war through adult eyes.

VE day (the day Germany surrendered)was such a celebration, it was half expected and we were told at school it would be a holiday. I heard the news on the wireless so did no go to school that day but was told off by the headmaster as it was not the official surender and the next day was the holiday. There were street parties, we were still rationed but the food appeared on the tables in the road. There were bonfires in the street. We went to Marble arch to see a Victory parade.

On VJ day (the day Japan surrendered), I was the last boy at the street bonfire, keeping it going, it was late when I was called in for bed. A short while after laying down this man came in with a real leather football, my Dad had returned. The war was realy over for me.

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