大象传媒

Life and Shanks Pony During the War

I was 14 years old when on the 3rd September 1939, it was announced over the Radio that England was at War with Germany. To me it was a very exciting time though really not understanding the horrors that would come.

My Dad was attached to the Welsh Regiment during the First World War and was sent to France to fight, a situation that one could not imagine. Whilst fighting in the French trenches he was first gassed and then shot in the back, so as you read on you will understand the horrors this War had on him.

Dad worked at the Bristol Aircraft factory in Filton, Bristol. He and his brother had Certificates and Medals for a sport, this was at the local rifle range. He was asked if he would give training to other workers as a backup Home Guard (like Dad鈥檚 Army) for the Aircraft factory. Because of this position as an Instructor, he was then designated his own pill box on the perimeter of the airfield. On the 25 September 1940 raid, 300 bombs were dropped. Of these 160 bombs hit the aircraft factory, and 6 of these hit the air raid shelters and my Dad witnessed it all happening from his position in the pill box.

In the meantime my mother and I heard and saw a formation of 鈥榩lanes passing over our house in Fishponds heading for Filton, but there was no ack ack fire from our guns or our large gun, which was named Big Bertha, or any spitfires going to intercept them, so we assumed they were ours until we heard the bombs exploding.

When my Dad arrived home from the Aircraft factory he said he just could not sleep at our house in Fishponds; his nerves were in a terrible state after what he had witnessed so arrangements were made for my Mother, sister and I and Dad to go to an Aunty, Uncle and two cousins in Henfield, in Coalpit Heath, near Bristol. Unfortunately the bungalow was not large enough for all of us to sleep permanently so my parents rented a room at Newman鈥檚 Farm opposite my uncle鈥檚 farm.

We had no car, and every night we walked or caught a bus from Fishponds to Downend, which is approximately three miles. There was no public transport from Downend, and so we walked the rest of the way to Henfield, which is another two to three miles. It was all country lanes and very dark at night, as all lights were blacked out. Very occasionally if the weather was very bad we would catch a country bus which travelled a main road route, to the nearest stop to the farm but either way we still had a long way to walk. It was a long time ago so I cannot recall accurately how many hours it took us, after all we were children and tired easily. My Mother did buy a bike later, when we took it in turns to ride, the person riding went so far and then waited for the rest to catch up, then another had a ride. It did help as we could rest waiting for the others. Coming back into Downend sometimes we were lucky in the morning and got a lift. I got a bus from Downend to College in Clifton; my sister was at a local school in Fishponds, and my Dad to Filton.

Would this be the end of the story? Well, the first night we slept at Newman鈥檚 Farm, we were awakened by Mr Newman shouting for us to get up and be ready to run from the farm as a German 鈥榩lane was dropping incendiaries round us and would light up everything if one fell on the hayrick, until that happened, my Dad and Mr Newman ran about extinguishing the incendiaries. We did not need to run as the hayrick was not hit.

In the morning it was reported that a German 鈥榩lane had been hit and had off loaded all its incendiary bombs round the house and fields. It crashed in fields just before Downend.

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