大象传媒

My War Interests.

Looking back I often wonder how Mum coped, bringing two of us up must have been a nightmare in itself?
As you would expect, during these arduous war years gardening wasn鈥檛 high on Mum鈥檚 priority list of things to do, so inevitably the garden went to pot so to speak. I have a feeling that Babs may have cut the grass from time to time; well it always appeared relatively short, Of course I was very busy doing important things with the gang. I would not have had much idea anyway. I鈥檇 wait for Dad to come home again and help him then,
Before Dad was called up he would do some 鈥楧IG for VICTORY鈥� for an elderly couple at number two Leicester Avenue. They couldn鈥檛 do any gardening, because as well as being old they were in poor health. The first thing Dad had to do was dig up part of their back lawn, then he planted potatoes, I heard him tell Mum, 鈥淭here best as they don鈥檛 need much looking after, just soiling up now and again, that wont take me long鈥� I bet it turned into a large weed bed when Dad had to leave it when he went into the army.
鈥淣ellie-e-e, have we any string anywhere?鈥� Dad shouted from the back door. 鈥淚t鈥檚 under the sink in a jam jar,鈥� came Mums reply from the living room, 鈥渁nd don鈥檛 put those muddy boots on my clean floor,鈥� By the time I got to the scullery it was too late for me to get it for him, Dad was on his hands and knees trying to redeem himself with a wet cloth in his hand. I鈥檒l pass over the next few minutes as Mum came back into the kitchen.
鈥淲hat are we going to do now Dad?鈥� 鈥淵ou鈥檒l see in a minute,鈥� he replied as he sits on the step and puts his boots back on. Then he goes into the new lavatory come garden shed, I stand and watch as he ties some of his gardening tools together in a bundle. 鈥淐ome on, get your wellies on, you can come with me.鈥�
Putting his tools on his shoulder we set off, up the avenue and down Arderne Road, over the croft, across Heyes Lane and down a path that led to a big field. Here we found men digging and raking in different places, I was puzzled; until Dad told me it was called an allotment. The Government had asked the people to 鈥楧ig for Victory鈥� to help the war effort by growing their own food. The local council had allocated various fields and designated them 鈥楢llotments鈥�, anyone who wanted one was 鈥榓llotted鈥� a plot to grow food for his family. Dad set too work with his spade, first taking all the grass off a small area, turned it over then raked it, this was to get more of the weeds out, he told me and then he planted some potatoes.
Over the next few weeks he cleared the rest of his plot and sowed various seeds, and then he was called up to go into the army.
Farmers had to clear all land that wasn鈥檛 being used and cultivate it to grow food. The Government introduced Land Army Girls; I think they could volunteer, or they may have been conscripted. These ladies did a fantastic job; they ploughed fields, planted various seeds and did the harvesting. They had to grub out a lot of hedgerows on the MOF (Ministry of Food) orders. This was to make sure that every available piece of land was farmed to its full potential.
A lot of women were made to go on what was called 鈥楳unitions鈥�, working in the factories, making things from bullets to tanks and aeroplanes, they did a very good job in helping to win the war. The B.B.C visited the canteens of the larger factories to entertain the workers with some of the well known variety acts of the day; the programme went out at lunch time every weekday and was called 鈥榃orkers Playtime鈥�.
Harry called for me one morning, but before playing I had to give the hens some fresh water, we carried the watering can between us and this must have been a distraction until the job in hand had been completed.
Leaving the hen pen we were half way back to the house, when we both saw it, whatever is that lurking in the plants and hanging from the trees? 鈥淟ooks like something off a Christmas tree鈥� 鈥漎es, it does,鈥� he replies, we both look up into the sky, but no clue there. So we start to collect these ten inch by half inch strips that look like hard silver paper. When we had picked up all we could see and reach, we decided to go and seek help. Looking up and down the Avenue no one could be seen, so we started walking towards Harry鈥檚 house in the hope of finding someone to ask.
Round the corner comes a man who we know to be an ARP Warden. With me holding the items of intrigue out towards him Harry says, 鈥淧lease, can you tell us what this is please?鈥� 鈥淥h that鈥檚 something the Germans drop from their aeroplanes,鈥� 鈥淲hy?鈥� We asked in unison. He must be in a hurry as he takes a couple of steps, stops and says 鈥淭o try and confuse our Radar鈥� 鈥淲hat鈥檚 that鈥� we ask. He opens his mouth as if to speak, looks up to heaven, gives a grimace, shakes his head and walks off. We shrug our *soldiers, and head off to find someone who can tell us what Radar is. *I could never say 鈥榮houlder鈥� in my younger years; it always came out as 鈥楽oldier鈥�.
At Christmas 1944 I was presented with a bicycle, I was eleven and three quarters. How Mum managed I鈥檓 not sure, but I do remember her subscribing to Provincial Checks, a sort of credit club, a collector came round once a week, this is how Mum managed to eak out Dads private鈥檚 army pay from time to time. All I do know is that she worried over money especially when she had to buy schoolbooks for Muriel. Thank goodness, she will be leaving school next June and get herself a job I heard her say.
During the war, like cars, bikes had to have shrouded front lights, one dark winter鈥檚 night this led me into a nasty mishap. I turned into Gerrard Avenue and gone about twenty yards, when all of a sudden I was a Spitfire Pilot. Up into the air I went, not bad so far, unfortunately what goes up has to come down, not a happy landing I can assure you. I hadn鈥檛 broken any bones, only cuts, grazes and many bruises. I had hit a brick that had mysteriously fallen off a garden wall and had walked into the cycle path, known in our young days as the gutter.
My favourite ride with the gang was to Ringway Airport; here they had Spitfires and Hurricane fighters and various warplanes. Exactly what they had stationed here I don鈥檛 know, but in a field on the corner of Wilmslow Road and Pinfold Lane were parked up a great number of Beaufort Bombers. All the road signs had been taken down so it was a good job we knew the various ways or we could very easily have got hopelessly lost.
In a field adjoining Ringway Airport, inside a large fenced off area, was an army lorry and a funny kind of trailer with a hut at one end. And at the other end, a raised platform with a big drum of wire and at the other end of this wire, floating in the sky, was a silver balloon, know as a barrage balloon.
Situated in another field not far away were the Anti Aircraft Guns, know as Ack-Ack Guns. These defence sites were situated all over the country, but mostly near to the areas where heavy bombing was more likely to take place. When the strong beam of a searchlight caught an enemy aircraft other stations would direct their beams onto it as well. This made it more difficult for the plane to escape the wrath of the ack ack guns.
Mum bought me a toy searchlight and an ack ack gun; it was good being in a room at night with the light switched off. I would fly one of my toy planes through the light and if a friend was with me we would take it in turns to try and shoot it down - the gun fired little shells by spring power.
As there was little or no traffic about, we would ride 鈥榥o hands鈥�, putting our arms out to the sides these became wings, now we were fighter pilots. Engaging with the enemy in a 鈥楧og Fight鈥� was easy, leaning over to one side then the other your bike would weave left or right. It was inevitable that we would crash or fall off but were lucky never to have any broken bones, but plenty of cuts and bruises.
One day a pal at scouts by the name of John Dobson asked me if I would like too go cycling with him and his Dad, so l arranged to meet them the following Sunday at their home, remembering to take my packed lunch as instructed.
They lived on Grange Road off Park Road just before the railway bridge near the Rec. At the back of these few houses was a very big field that was soon to have a lot of houses built on it. This was the field that was allotments.
Somewhere near Dunham Massey was a prisoner of war camp; we were told they were Italians. These men were brought to this field every morning to dig the foundations and all the trenches for the services. At about four thirty some day鈥檚 we would go and watch them as they were marched out in columns of three abreast all with patches of cloth of various colours sewn onto their trousers and jackets guarded by our armed soldiers. We stood and watched them get into the transport; each with our own thoughts as to where they were captured, who they were, where they came from. I never heard anyone shout any abuse at them. I doubt very much that they wouldn鈥檛 get away without any today.
When Dad finally came out of the army at Christmas 1945 he came home sporting his new demob suit and brown trilby hat. I was now twelve years and five months old so I was able to give him some proper help in the much needed tidying up of the garden. Where the hens had been, he planted potatoes; this would sweeten the ground he advised me, we had some lovely potatoes. Vegetables were planted and Dad started a fruit plot around the apple tree. There were strawberries, raspberries and the inevitable rhubarb.
The big mistake we made was sowing all the lettuce in one go, we could have supplied the whole neighbourhood, but unfortunately we were not the only ones to make this error. Anyway we did enjoy this home-grown produce, although most of it came all at once. We didn鈥檛 have freezers then so a lot of the produce had to be given away, providing we could find someone to give it to.
Not long after oranges and bananas started to come back into the shops. Banana boxes were rather heavy and looked like small coffins, a foot wide a foot deep and about four feet long. The hinges were pieces of thin rope threaded through the box and the lid in two places, in the middle of the front another piece of rope was used to secure the lid. These boxes had to be returned complete or the shop didn鈥檛 get the 拢1 deposit back.
Orange boxes weren鈥檛 returnable as they were made from cheap wood with gaps all round, these were fifteen inches square and about three feet in length with a solid partition across the middle. With this taken out and four wheels attached they made a fantastic bogie, yes we made one. They鈥檇 be called 鈥楪o Carts鈥� today.
After re-locating the gateway, (a rustic arch,) into his market garden paradise, Dad tackled the flowerbeds and attended to the lawn鈥檚 needs. The part nearest the house was the last job; the hardest part we had was digging out the two Rhododendron bushes near the French windows, these were replaced with rose bushes. All Dads鈥� plans for the garden had now been completed. He was well satisfied and I鈥檓 sure it helped in his adjusting to civilian life, and it was nice to be able to work with him properly now that I was older.
From 鈥楾IMPERLEY BOY鈥� by Peter Scott - Published by Churnet Valley Books Leek Staffordshire

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