- Contributed by听
- LlandoveryU3A
- People in story:听
- Peter Butler
- Location of story:听
- Dawley, Telford
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A5940894
- Contributed on:听
- 28 September 2005
I was eight at the end of the second World War so my memories tend to be of the latter years. A mansion in the neighbourhood called by the locals 鈥淭he Big House鈥 was given over to the occupancy of a contingent of American soldiers. These unfortunate G.I鈥檚 afforded a great opportunity for reward to the indigenous child population in the shape of a practise they termed 鈥渄ogging鈥. Dogging was carried out by following the quarry G.I, in company with his current sweetheart, at a distance which gave them no opportunity to indulge in a spot of canoodling. In due cause a bribe was offered to the infant pursuer in the shape of sweets, money or even tobacco. It was always accepted but that did not guarantee the couple the privacy they craved as a previously concealed child comrade might suddenly appear to take over the 鈥渄ogging鈥. The Americans however were often generous without the need for such blackmail. I remember the whole child population of the neighbourhood being lined up before one of the bow windows of the 鈥淏ig House鈥 to Share in the candy allowance of the whole American platoon. On another occasion I was standing in a queue with my sister in the local chip shop anticipating the salivary ecstasy of 鈥淐hippy鈥 Wrights merchandise when I was approached by an American soldier who gave me an ocarina which was in a khaki case that shouted Government Issue. Then there was Joe, Joe was a sergeant who was a veritable Pied Piper, leading the kids on a constant cycle of activities like baseball, football and any ball you could think of.
One night in 1945 we children were awakened by my mother in a state of agitation because of the sound of loud voices and music which she thought might upset the neighbours who had an extremely low noise tolerance. On drawing the curtains she peered out on to the spectacle of our normally staid neighbours cavorting in wild abandon around a wind up gramophone on their lawn. Yes! It was V.E. Day, it was all over.
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