- Contributed by听
- 2nd Air Division Memorial Library
- People in story:听
- Vic Elvin
- Location of story:听
- Mile Cross, Norwich, Norfolk
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A2945991
- Contributed on:听
- 25 August 2004
This story was submitted to the People's War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library in conjunction with 大象传媒 Radio Norfolk on behalf of Vic Elvin and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
Reproduced with permission from a series of articles written by Vic Elvin for the Mile Cross News, a community newsletter for the residents of the Mile Cross estate in Norwich.
My name is Vic Elvin and I live on the Mile Cross estate in Norwich and was a pupil at the Norman School during the war years.
My family moved to Catton Grove estate because of my father's job, but I still spent most of my time playing near the Norman School because my Granny lived nearby, and in those days kids always went to "Granny's". I met my first girlfriend then; I was about seven years of age and I thought she was horrible, as I was more interested in spinning tops, pop-guns, and ball games. I was also the proud owner of a catapult I made, and a kite I made out of newspaper and glue made from self-raising flour stirred into a paste.
Like most kids in those days you ran fairly free, you grew up in a rough and tumble world free of the worries of today. It meant stone fights, threats from boys from other estates, torn trousers and jackets and a clip around the lug (ear) when you got home all messed up.
Then came the war, and we kids had to grow up quickly. At first it was all very exciting. We had time off school while they built air raid shelters in the school grounds. They were long tunnels underground with wooden seats along them and a food cupboard at one end. (I never did find out if there was any food in it).
After a while we were issued with gas masks, they were horrible things that covered your face completely to stop you breathing any gas if the Germans dropped any. They had to be tested on you regularly to make sure they worked, the only problem was they would get steamed up so you couldn't see a blinking thing.
I remember when the first siren sounded a warning, it was day time everybody panicked on my road, mums were rushing around making kids put on their gas masks and kids were crying because they couldn't get them on. Finally everybody got them on and we stood there. Just standing around thinking what next? Are we going to be gassed? If so will we see the gas? Then the all clear sounded, what a relief we were all still alive.
As you must have guessed by now, I survived the war, like many others. Fortunately, for us our names were not on the bombs (so to speak) which were exploding all around us. We got under table, under the stairs, in the coal cupboard (which was indoors) and in the great little Anderson Shelter. All these helped to save our lives. They all became what I would call 'safe areas' for families, somewhere to get your head down and pray that, as I said, your name was not on one of the bombs which were screeching down from the German planes above.
We were given earplugs to cut out the noise of the bombing. You rammed them in your ears as the bombs whistled down; too far in and it made your eyes water, not far enough and they flew out because of the vibration from the exploding bombs. In the end we settled for cotton wool, for all the good it did. Anyhow, with the cotton wool and your fingers stuck in your ears you sometimes missed the 'All Clear' siren and then we were stuck in a cramped area longer than need be!
I remember one day my mother brought some chocolate biscuits as a treat for us kids later on, what a luxury! We kept on crazing her for one but no, we had got to wait until the next day. I think it was someone's birthday. Well, we never did get them because that night our house went up in smoke following a direct hit by a Firebomb.
It was a dreadful night. We were all sleeping on the floor in the living room, under the table for safety's sake. Mum had had a hunch about this night; the cloud was low which meant a good night for the German planes.
How right she was! The sirens went, which meant the bombers were overhead. Suddenly all hell broke loose and the front window was blown in. Luckily the table saved us from the flying glass; good thinking mum! Things began to get very hot and we realised we'd received a direct hit by an oil bomb.
We rushed out of the living room, through the kitchen and out into the garden heading for the air raid shelter, screaming our heads off as we ran. The top of the air raid shelter was also well alight as we dived inside. We all sat in the shelter huddling together, shaking and crying and wondering what would happen next.
The bombs continued to rain down and we could hear machine gun fire from the German Warplanes as bullets thudded into the ground all around us. Before long our shelter became too hot to stay in so we all climbed out and ran through what was left of our house and across to our friend's shelter over the road, braving the machine gun fire as we went.
Anyway, by the morning our house in George Pope Road had been completely destroyed and I was sent on a journey through the estate to tell my Gran, who lived in Brasier Road, about our plight.
What a sight! I shall never forget it. As I went along Woodcock Road, down Rye Avenue and across to Brasier Road, houses everywhere were still burning, some had been flattened, water was gushing out of pipes and there was rubble and glass everywhere.
When I arrived at Gran's I had got so much to tell her about what I had seen on the way but I couldn't say a thing for a while because two of my Aunts and Uncles sate there looking downcast and dishevelled because they too had been bombed out.
I now felt part of the War, grown up so to speak, doing my part to help my mother cope with the War. As I said the War had come to us.
We had an increase in the family during the war; a little brother. He had a birthmark on his leg; a distinct "V". When my mother saw it she said, "We will win this war". Mothers know everything don't they.
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