大象传媒

Sixty years since the end of the war in Europe and being born in 1938 much of the war memories do not contain a cohesive order. I have absolutely no recollection of living in Dunstans Road in Dulwich and the adjoining house and occupants being destroyed. No recollection of being under a table with rubble all around. However, my mother and her three children survived the collection of random experiences and I venture to suggest that this may have led to attaining stronger personalities than we may otherwise have developed.

I cannot either recall the much publicised evacuation procedure, yet evacuated we were. To Mumbles, Swansea in South Wales with our mother Daisy (you don鈥檛 get names like that in the present day!)

When there, my younger sister and I were keen to go Carol singing and were very local, working our way round various houses. On one occasion, we came to one house, which was opened by men in uniform, who insisted we entered and sang for them. My sister and I instantly would not speak, let alone sing, a mixture of shyness and suspicion. It was our last port of call and we made it 鈥榟ot foot鈥� home, claiming to have found the Germans鈥ell, they were in uniform and speaking Welsh, how were we to know we had found the local fire station!

A later or earlier date we were in a cottage in Churchsettle, East Sussex and close by was a detachment of the Canadian army complete with Ack - Ack gun. My sister and I would visit the camp on a regular basis, although more often, I would go alone. They were great guys, friendly and open, a favourite part for me in the camp was where the cooking was done. The cook was a man called Moss, the only name I can recall amongst my welcoming friends and I can assure you it was a safe environment for me, reflectively they must have identified with their families at home.

On one particular day when I was there, there was a call for action. The Ack - Ack gun was manned and one of my soldiers stood with me, directly behind the gun. A plane was coming towards us, a doodlebug, after a rapid succession of firing it remained un-hit. Everyone fell flat to the ground and my soldier threw himself on top of me. The doodlebug was very low, probably twenty-five yards up and not to the right or the left of our position. The firing has ceased, as a hit would have put it right on top of us. As it passed over, the gun crew swung the gun around and resumed firing, my soldier providing my cover said to me 鈥渞emember this鈥� and I am proud to say that I have.

Shells were now passing overhead and the target was becoming decidedly smaller, I cannot be sure whether it was hit or if it just came down, but come down it did.

Then became a period of much jubilation with this spilling over, someone claimed I was there lucky mascot and this became a unified opinion and I felt an integral part of the operation.
It occurs now that maybe they were paid by the hit as the pay tent was shortly opened and my guys insisted I lined up with them, doing this I overheard one of them say that the doodlebug was not meant for London but was meant for them.

When my spot came to the pay counter the desk was very high and I was lifted up to be met with a dour gaze from the paymaster who remained very silent. My soldier friend said to him 鈥淐ome on, he鈥檚 our mascot, give him a penny out of mine,鈥� still silent and I suspect with the hint of a smile he passed across a penny. Can you imagine my elation as I now considered I was one of them, especially since I was their paid mascot! I returned home having had a very happy day.

The next day I was not allowed to the camp and when I returned found an empty field. Disconcerted that they seemed to have forgotten me I wandered a few fields looking for my company. I did get over them leaving without any trauma and I was glad to have had this most unique experience鈥aybe back pay would be in order鈥�?

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