大象传媒

One Child鈥檚 War

One afternoon during the autumn of 1939 I remember being put into a seat that was in the boot of a red sports car. I had never seen the man and woman who took me off from Leicester to Whetstone before. I was to spend the next two miserable years with people I did not like and who did not like me.

Whetstone is a village in Leicestershire not many miles from Coventry, which was an enemy target. The following year Coventry received a devastating attack and I remember very well whole families coming to Whetstone for refuge. There was the occasional visit from my parents and I went home a few times. The visits were a painful but necessary trauma; I was four years old.

I remember the rainy day I was sent back to Leicester on a bus. The complaints against me were that I was always miserable. My crop of boils and sties put the farmer off his breakfast. In spite of frequent caning I didn鈥檛 learn anything at school or at home and this was looked upon as a wilful refusal to cooperate on my part. I felt ill with homesickness. Once home my ailments cleared up.

My dad was thrilled when his calling up papers came, and mum was glad to see him go, I heard her say so.

Dad went off to kill people and mum became Leicester鈥檚 first bus conductress. Before long a team of women worked on the busses and close friendships formed. Dad was a soldier in the Royal Artillery and an officer鈥榮 batman. After the war my parents were each given 拢25 and a length of suiting material from dad鈥檚 officer.

The war years were the happiest years of my mother鈥檚 life. In no time at all she became chairperson for Leicester City Transport Trade Union, and became politically very active.

By 1940 the revelling had begun. Our house was alive with happy people talking into the early hours, drinking, parties, story telling, love making, everyone living as though they expected to die any minute and wanted to squeeze all they could out of the present. Blackouts and food rationing did nothing to dampen my mother鈥檚 spirit. In fact she gave our rations to the woman next door. The G.I.s had arrived bearing gifts, delicious foods, sheer stockings, Camel cigarettes and Whisky. The dancing was really underway.

Grownups seemed to be making love everywhere. The parks were littered with used condoms. We children amused ourselves fishing them out of the brooks with twigs. Many women had extra marital relationships and my mum was no exception. I remember many a scuffle to defend my mother鈥檚 honour when someone called her a tart.

In the streets kids in gangs would trail after the 鈥測anks鈥� chanting 鈥淕ot any gum chum?鈥� We were rewarded with handfuls. We had never had juicy fruit gum, or spearmint before. The American soldiers had lovely gabardine uniforms that fitted their bums like made-to-measure should. Our lads wore serge, bunched up round the middle.

On the 19th to the 20th of November 1940 a landmine was dropped on Temple road where I lived, causing tremendous damage to Steel and Busks an engineering factory. On the same night following a flare another mine was dropped onto Victoria Park Pavilion completely destroying the ornate building but leaving De Montfort Hall unscathed. My mother found lodgings with friends. I was not at home that night if I had been I probably wouldn鈥檛 be alive to tell the tale because my bedroom was completely demolished. The house next to the factory was gutted and never rebuilt. Our house was a corner house and for some reason corner houses often suffered the worst from the blast.

These were strange times. I knew when mum was coming home at night, I could hear the laughter and singing before they turned into our street. Drunk as sponges mum and her cronies, sometimes ten abreast, arms linked and unsteady they would wend their way home, sometimes someone tripped more loud laughter as they propped each other up.

One day when I came home from school I was surprised to see Dad standing at the garden gate, his kitbag on the pavement. Several neighbours were talking to him, some with tears in their eyes. They were telling him about mum鈥檚 riotous living. He didn鈥檛 say a word. We walked up the garden path, went into the house together, Dad said 鈥淗ello mate!鈥� and that was that. There was no recriminations or cross words. After a little while I asked him when he was going back. He threw up his arms saying 鈥淚ts bloody good aint it the minute I get here she wants to know when I鈥檓 going back!鈥� Mum had already dived into his kitbag for the spoils. I don鈥檛 know how anyone could carry so much silver. There was a beautiful blue quilt with tiny buttons sewn around the edges. The vivid blue made me catch my breath. I still have a little hand carved box but someone has spoiled it by painting over the flowers. Dad reminded us now and then, 鈥滻鈥檝e carted this lot all over Europe for you鈥�

He handed me some photographs to look at. I was stunned. Were these the people we all hated so much? I must have looked at them for a long time because they were suddenly snatched out of my hand and my dad was saying, 鈥溾�漇top gawping at those bloody Jerries!鈥� Those photographs left a lasting impression on my mind. The people looked refined, well-cared for and their houses looked like castles in the snow. I felt very sad to think that my dad had ripped those photos from a treasured family album and probably thrown it down in the mud somewhere.

When dad came home on leave he had to wear trousers with no flies in them because mum had taken his suits to a 鈥渓ittle tailor down the road鈥� and had them altered to fit her. The flies were sewn up and a placket sewn into the side seam. Dad always boasted that his measurements were the same as Mae West.

One night dad came home on leave during the night. I didn鈥檛 know that he was in bed. I went downstairs and to my utter joy I was greeted by the most beautiful fluffy puppy. Where had it come from? Dad had brought it from Aldershot. What on earth had inspired him to bring this perfect little crumb of life into this house? I named her Fifi and from the moment I saw her she had all the love and affection from me that I was capable of.

Fifi came into air-raid shelters with me, she recognised the warning siren from the 鈥渁ll clear鈥�. We couldn鈥檛 use the shelter in our garden because Dad had stored his shallots in there, they were floating on the top of the water that had seeped through the concrete base and the stench was awful due to fermentation. I once saw a middle-aged couple copulating during an air-raid. I knew it was wrong to look but couldn鈥檛 help it. I realise now they may have thought that it was their last time.

When dad went back after a leave Mum and I would join all the other servicemen and their families at London Road Station to give the men a good send off. There was lots of loud cheering. One woman couldn鈥檛 hold back a loud sob. My mother was very scornful, had the woman no self control? I felt for her but mum said that she was rather common and came from a rough district in Leicester.

An aunt who was in the A.T.S was billeted with us during the war. I was very sad when she left. My mother said that we had her to thank for infecting us with scabies. I was in big trouble at school, not only had I got scabies but head lice as well. The headmaster was a real sadist. He told me that he didn鈥檛 want dirty girls at his school. Some kids were covered in gentian violet an ointment for treating impetigo. We all went to a clinic on Catherine Street. There were children from every school in Leicester I think. How I loved those deep, deep baths full of glorious hot water. After a good soak we were scrubbed all over with a stiff brush and then lathered with the most wonderful soothing white lotion. I seem to remember three days of this treatment and then no baths at all for a few days when we were covered with a tar like ointment that stuck to your clothes and smelled like Jeyes Fluid. Some children were scarred for life. My mother was too ashamed to get treatment so no sooner was I healed I was re-infected.

The most popular song during the war was Marlene Dietrich singing Lili Marlene. It was a favourite with both British and German soldiers. There was some superb music, 鈥淚鈥檒l see you again鈥� and 鈥淏luebirds over the white cliffs of Dover鈥� and we really did believe in peace ever after, love and laughter 鈥渨hen the world is free鈥�.

The schools stayed open during the school holidays to provide a hot meal for the children of working mothers. I spent my holidays roaming about with Fifi on Cut-throat Lane, collecting specimens from a spinney and a long walk up to Piggies-Hollow where Fifi and I would roll and tumble for hours. I had a lot of freedom when I was young.

Suddenly we learned that the war in Europe was over. THE WAR WAS OVER!!! I will never forget the feeling that came over me; a feeling of hopelessness and happiness all in one. It was just too much. All the people that had lost their lives, what was it all for? I took Fifi upstairs to my bedroom closed the door and wept.

Soon after the news broke people were pouring into the streets carrying anything they could bang, rattle or play. Crowds marched from street to street singing and cheering. It was fantastic! The next day my mother, who never went near a church if she could help it, took me to a thanksgiving service at St., Chad鈥檚 church on Coleman Road Leicester. I couldn鈥檛 help wondering why God had chosen to be on our side.

V.E. day street parties were quickly organised. Folk brought out their dining room tables and joined them up to each other. Bed linen was spread over the tables and food that had been stored away for emergencies was brought out. We had a bon-fire and a dance band and people danced the night away. One or two people recklessly threw their ration books onto the fire, a big mistake, there was a long period of austerity after the war.

I was astounded by my mother. I saw her chatting, smiling and being agreeable with the very neighbours she always claimed to despise. She glided off into the mass of dancers in the arms of a man from across the road who she had never spoken to before. IT was incredible how nice everyone was.

Dad came home for good one day. He looked awful in his demob suit, a trilby on his head held up by his ears. He was a stranger to us now, drifting off into trance like states to which we had no access. I remember feeling very unhappy and anxious during this time.

Mum bought her posh hotel at the sea-side that she had saved for and dreamed about all through the war years. The first season the hotel was fully booked. The guests seemed manically happy. The atmosphere was amazing and unforgettable. Sadly my parents couldn鈥檛 settle after the war. They took up dog-breeding and moved up and down the country, filling each house with dogs and winning prizes at prodigious dog shows. One day my mother announced that she was going to live in Australia. She had the dogs destroyed and went. She died in Western Australia two years ago aged ninety-four.

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