大象传媒

CHAPTER V

鈥淒OODLE BUGS鈥�

My maternal grandfather who we lived with until my brother was born was one of the most despicable people you could wish to meet. He was more than thoroughly objectionable to everybody. People outside the family who knew him would have nothing to do with him because of his arrogant ways. Unbeknown to my parents (it鈥檚 amazing how young children being abused by an adult never tell anybody) I was no different.

He was destroying my self confidence, I was a 鈥渘incompoop鈥�, (how I came to hate that word and still do) a coward and generally useless. I suffered this regularly and was beginning to believe it. It was, coupled with the war, taking its toll on me and I was getting pretty near a nervous wreck.

Many years later, as an adult, our next door neighbour, a shoe repairer who had lived next door to my grandparents for years, told me 鈥淵ou know Jack, there was nothing wrong with your poor old Uncle Bert. He used to come into the shop and talk to me a lot. Your grandfather drove him into the lunatic asylum.鈥� My Uncle Bert and the lunatic asylum has been a taboo subject in the family. Uncle Bert died in the asylum before I was born. I think history was repeating itself, more of that later.

It was now early 1942. I was eleven and things were going well for me. Fewer air raids, family life the best it had ever been now that I was away from my grandfather. Miraculously my brother was getting stronger by the day. Then one day a letter came for my father with the dreaded 鈥極HMS鈥� on top - his calling-up papers. He and my mother were shattered. He was 42 and it was always understood that if you were over 40 you would not be called up. Nobody could believe it. My parents were regarded by everybody who knew them as the ideal couple, quiet, gentle and wouldn鈥檛 hurt a fly. I had never heard them have a bad word between them or about anybody else. The last person to join the services would be my father. But of course he had to go and typically of him without complaint. He joined the R.A.F. I was now the head of the household, something I took very seriously.

I had attended the local church, not because I was religious but that was where all the action was (pubs today fill that need I believe). I had joined the scouts and drama club. I became a cub instructor because all over-18s had been called up, sang in the church choir and served on the alter. The Anglican priest was a marvellous cleric to us youngsters, providing us with many activities to take our minds off the war. I made many friends and it was, for a short while, to be the happiest times of my childhood.

I had noticed that my mother quite often was not well but I really didn鈥檛 give it much thought. In summer 1942 I was accepted into the local central school at the age of twelve having passed the entrance exam. I didn鈥檛 particularly like the school but that wasn鈥檛 the school鈥檚 fault. It was mine.

So for a few months life was pretty comfortable. I went to a couple of scout camps, Bagborough in Somerset and Abingdon in Oxford. While in Abingdon an aeroplane crashed two fields away while on a training flight. One of our patrol leaders, who wanted to be a doctor, was one of the first on the scene and was congratulated for his efforts at first aid. Luckily the pilot survived but he did have broken bones.

So 1942 came and went. It was early 1943 Wednesday 20th January. We were in the school playground when we heard low flying aircraft, Spitfires. We shouted and waved, the pilot waved back, that鈥檚 how low they were, roof-top level. To our horror the markings on the side were not the R.A.F but the dreaded Iron Cross of German planes. He opened fire on us and took some slates off the gym roof. We flung ourselves to the floor and miraculously no-one was physically hurt, but we were all badly shaken up. I still today wonder what sort of man waves to school children then fires at them. That same day many children were killed in a school at Catford at the same time. My aunt, my mother鈥檚 younger sister had a cannon shell through her bedroom window and lodged in her wardrobe. They were all out, luckily.

So 1943 passed with just a few more raids, none that really affected me.

I noticed by now that my mother was needing my help as her health wasn鈥檛 too good but with the innocence of youth I really didn鈥檛 give it too much thought.

I had been very much involved with the drama group at the church. I was rehearsing for the lead in a play and also a part in a scout show all on the same night Saturday 25th March 1944. I spent weeks learning my lines something that didn鈥檛 come easily to me. I forget what the plot of the play was, but I was a nervous priest in France looking for a vacant room in a hotel.
Came the big night my mother and three year old brother were proudly sitting in the audience, the curtain opened, I got into character and nervously said 鈥淎vez-vous un chambre鈥�..鈥�. I never finished my line, the air raid siren drowned me out and we were all sent home that night - it was the worst incendiary bomb attack I can remember. The church burned down, the priest was badly burnt trying to save valuables. Records say that 34 incendiaries dropped on our road that night. One set fire to the roof next door. While all this chaos was going on a women neighbour ran into the street hysterically shouting 鈥淟et鈥檚 give in, let鈥檚 give in, we can鈥檛 take any more鈥�. She was dealt with severely by the men.

So my acting career was over. I was never to 鈥渢read the boards鈥� again. Hollywood had had a lucky escape!

A lull for a while again then on the night of 13th June 1944 there was great excitement, we had shot a plane down, or so we thought. Flames were seen coming from it. Our gunners at last beginning to be effective. No such luck. Next morning on the wireless we were told, Hitler had unleashed on us a new secret weapon, the V2 or as it became known the Doodlebug. It was to be much feared.

The invasion had started just a week earlier, so jubilation turned to fear. The Doodlebug was an unmanned aircraft loaded with explosives and when in flight it ejected an orange flame. It sounded like an old motor bike, the engine would cut out then glide, sometimes for miles, before it dropped and exploded. They used to say 鈥淵ou never hear the one that gets you, all the while you hear it you鈥檙e safe鈥�. I think that was a pretty fair comment.

The infernal things became a way of life, they didn鈥檛 bother to sound the sirens any more. The things were overhead before you had time to worry about sirens. Sometimes more than one in the sky at the same time. I was coming home from school one day and one was chasing me up the road. as I rode my bike. To this day I believe I would have won the 鈥淭our de France鈥� with the speed I was going. When I got to my house I jumped off my bike and jumped a complete set of stone steps down to our front door, just as I got my key in the lock it dropped with an almighty bang. I might just as well have sat on the bike at the end of the road and waited for it to go over and save all that effort. I had much to learn about them.

Another incident, we were in the school shelters one particularly hectic day when there was that now all too familiar almighty bang. A wide crack appeared in the side of the shelter and we could see the neighbouring gardens! After the raid we were told to go home and come back the next day. Coming out of the school there was glass, brick, rubble, dust and general mayhem. It had dropped in the next road to the school. I remember riding my bike through the mess worrying if I would get a puncture.

So the flying bombs were getting much worse now and so was my mother鈥檚 health. I was staying home from school in the morning to help as she was mostly bed-ridden. I went to school afternoons only. By this time my father was in France with the invasion forces. One night with flying bombs being particularly active my mother was screaming with pain. It was about 2 o鈥檆lock in the morning and I knew I had to get a doctor. I had a quarter of an hour walk, dodging shrapnel, scared out of my mind to his house. When I got there I hammered frantically on his door with both fists until eventually he came to the side garden gate. He had been in the Anderson shelter in the garden. Gruffly he asked me what I wanted and when I told him he said 鈥淕et back home, I鈥檓 not coming out on a night like this, I鈥檒l come in the morning鈥�. I cried all the way home.

The next morning I told the lady upstairs who I knew as 鈥楢untie鈥� Wright what had happened. She scolded me kindly and told me I should have called for her to help me. The doctor duly arrived next morning with 鈥楢untie鈥� Wright and me in attendance. He told my mother 鈥淵ou lazy woman, get up. A day鈥檚 work would do you good鈥� and walked out. 鈥楢untie鈥� Wright and I were stunned to say the least. Then she said to me 鈥測ou have a gran in Penge haven鈥檛 you. Go on your bike and tell her I want her urgently鈥� which I did. She also called her own doctor who reluctantly came out as it was another doctor鈥檚 patient. An ambulance was immediately called and my mother taken to hospital.

My grandparents decided to come and look after my brother and I until my mother became well again. My dreaded grandfather again. The abuse started again only worse as my parents weren鈥檛 around. He had a field day.

It鈥檚 not known much today but there was a second evacuation programme then in mid-June. My mother requested through my grandparents that I would be evacuated. I protested strongly only if I could take my brother with me who was now three. This was met with derision and a dramatic 鈥淣o!鈥� and I was told my mother would not get better unless I was evacuated so reluctantly I agreed.

The day before I was due to go I discovered my mother had taken, by mistake, my gas mask and left hers with me. I decided to go and see her to sort it out, two bus rides and a 1陆 hour journey away. I had just set out on the first bus when a Doodlebug came over. The driver stopped and said in a loud voice 鈥淚鈥檓 not going any further until that bloody thing has dropped!鈥� It was the first time I had heard any one swear in public and I was shocked. As I arrived at the hospital another Doodlebug went harmlessly over. I arrived at my mother鈥檚 ward and the sister sternly asked me what I wanted as it wasn鈥檛 visiting hours. When I told her she asked me gently if I would like to see my mother. Naturally I said I would so she said if I was quiet she would pull the curtains round and I could talk to her. My mother, to say the least, was shocked to see me but she soon recovered her composure after I explained about the gas masks. I told her I didn鈥檛 mind being evacuated but I desperately wanted to take my brother. She explained she would feel happier if he stayed with my grandmother, my mother鈥檚 mother. I couldn鈥檛 understand this and protested I had been bringing him up mostly on my own recently. She said 鈥淚 know duck, nobody really will ever know what you have been through lately鈥�. She added that if my father was killed in France and she and my brother didn鈥檛 survive the war at least one member of the family would survive - me! Silently and unhappily I left.

I never saw her again but her words were to have a profound effect on me in a few weeks time.

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