大象传媒

WW2 I REMEMBER IT WELL

I was just 6 years old the day that war was declared. I remember it well because my father was a minister and normally we would have been in church at 11 o-clock. We lived in a religious commune and the members were all clustered around a radio in the dining room listening to the announcement.

My friend, Tina Pitts, who I have lost touch with, lived next door. Her father built an Anderson shelter in the garden and Tina and I spent many happy hours there. I went to school at The Crest, a 5 minute walk up the street. Sometimes there was no school and sometimes we were sent quickly home if the air raid siren went off. Tina and I would play a lot of card games and her mother would bring us tea. When the All Clear went we would go out to collect shrapnel.

When I started at The Crest in 1939 I was in a room with 2 levels and one teacher. First thing every morning the teacher worked with the older group and my group was to write a story. One morning we were told to write a letter to a famous person. I have no recollection of how I made my choice. I did have an aunt ( my father鈥檚 sister) who lived in the United States and I chose to write to President Franklin Roosevelt. I received an answer from the White House. I don鈥檛 know what my father did with it but in our several moves it disappeared. I would love to have it now. Who knows? It might be quite valuable.

I lived in Hendon, London, NW4 on Brent St. Tina and I liked to play on Brent Green. It was surrounded by iron railings about 3 feet high which we loved to turn somersaults on. When war began the railings soon disappeared for the war effort and never came back.

One night a time bomb dropped across the street. The air raid wardens came and told us to go to the back of the building away from Brent Street. The building was originally built by the Church of England as a place for wayward young women and was run as a laundry. It was built as a quadrangle with the church facing on Brent Street, a dining room, kitchen, parlour, apartments, single rooms, a printery and a large laundry. It also had a large square tower. The roof of the tower could be reached by a vertical ladder that went up through a dark space with cobwebs and who knows what. Very scary to me! But I would sometimes make the ascent with adults who would go up at night to watch the fires burning in the city. The bomb went off the next morning at 9-o-clock. It brought down 3 houses ( no casualties) and the church had 1 small window. broken.

My mother was very nervous and worried that we might be killed. She had lived through the First World War but the only thing I know about her experience of that is that she would say, 鈥� I learned to drink my tea without sugar鈥�. I learned to do the same during the Second World War.
I thought that if a bomb killed you that would be that and why worry. My sister, Muriel, was born just before the war started so my mother had 2 young children to be concerned about. Much later when I had 4 children of my own I realized I would probably react much the same as my mother in the same position. Because my mother couldn鈥榯 sleep at night during the raids, once in a while my father would drive out of London into the country and we would all sleep in the car.

We lived about 陆 mile from Hendon Central where there was a large public air raid shelter. My father would go there sometimes to conduct hymn singing. I loved going with him because everyone in the shelter was jolly, telling funny stories and singing funny songs.

My father鈥檚 cousin, Henry Frenkel, lived with us. His home was in Poland but he did business between Poland and England and was able to get out when Germany invaded Poland. His wife, Pola, could not and was interred in the Lodz Ghetto. As a child I slept at night but my father would talk about Cousin Henry pacing the floor and groaning. Pola did survive and she and Henry were thankfully reunited in England by the Red Cross.

In August of 1941 my father was assigned by the church to a post in Northfield, Birmingham. In the house we lived in the dining room table was a Morris Table. This was a massive metal table for you to go under during an air raid to protect you from anything falling. We never had a raid but the table made a nice playhouse.

From then on the war for me was about rationing. My mother would stand in a lot of lines when she went shopping. We were vegetarians so we got more cheese instead of meat. Oranges when they were available were only for children under 5 so my sister would get them. Bananas were a rarity. My mother had been famous for her trifles. During the war she substituted shredded wheat for the sponge cake. I hated them. Soggy shredded wheat, ugh! My grandmother loved cake. She ate little that would be considered 鈥檙eal food鈥�. On rare occasions the bakery would have some cake but it was one to a person. My grandmother would stand in line but also give a sixpence to a young boy to stand in line to get another for her.

In Northfield I went to the Rathvilly School where, at the age of 10 I made friends with Roma Chaplin. Roma taught me to ride and we loved horses and Winston Churchill equally.

Then came VE Day. My whole street, Farren Rd. was full of tables the length of the street. Food and drink miraculously appeared and we partied all night.

Then it was election day. Large black cars marked Conservative or Labour would pick up people to take them to vote. Roma and I , too young to vote, to make our preference known, when we saw a Labour car would get out in the road on our ponies to delay them.. We were very unhappy with the outcome.

At the age of 15 my father was requested by his church to come to an appointment in America. Roma and after some years lost touch with each other. By a miracle, 25 years later we found each other and found we still loved each other as much as ever.

In May, 1995, Roma, then living in Dartmouth, urged me to come to celebrate the 50th anniversary of VE Day with her. I was not sure what to do till Roma said, 鈥淚t is 50 years since we sang and danced in the streets together. Please come鈥�. I did and it was wonderful. People put on their old uniforms. Yes, they still got into them. We sang the war songs we had loved and sung so many times. Listen to your special friends. They often know what is best for you.

I was lucky, my family was lucky. I had 2 uncles who were abroad who came home unscathed. We had no direct bombing or anyone we knew killed. I had no traumatic experiences. It seems strange to say that the war was a happy time for me. I think of George Bernard Shaw who said: 鈥淵outh is such a wonderful thing it is a pity to waste it on the young鈥�.

Thank you 大象传媒 for providing the opportunity, now I am 72, , for the first time, to make a record of this part of my life. And thank you to Roma who strongly urged me to make a record for my children and posterity.

I
WW2 I REMEMBER IT WELL

I was just 6 years old the day that war was declared. I remember it well because my father was a minister and normally we would have been in church at 11 o-clock. We lived in a religious commune and the members were all clustered around a radio in the dining room listening to the announcement.

My friend, Tina Pitts, who I have lost touch with, lived next door. Her father built an Anderson shelter in the garden and Tina and I spent many happy hours there. I went to school at The Crest, a 5 minute walk up the street. Sometimes there was no school and sometimes we were sent quickly home if the air raid siren went off. Tina and I would play a lot of card games and her mother would bring us tea. When the All Clear went we would go out to collect shrapnel.

When I started at The Crest in 1939 I was in a room with 2 levels and one teacher. First thing every morning the teacher worked with the older group and my group was to write a story. One morning we were told to write a letter to a famous person. I have no recollection of how I made my choice. I did have an aunt ( my father鈥檚 sister) who lived in the United States and I chose to write to President Franklin Roosevelt. I received an answer from the White House. I don鈥檛 know what my father did with it but in our several moves it disappeared. I would love to have it now. Who knows? It might be quite valuable.

I lived in Hendon, London, NW4 on Brent St. Tina and I liked to play on Brent Green. It was surrounded by iron railings about 3 feet high which we loved to turn somersaults on. When war began the railings soon disappeared for the war effort and never came back.

One night a time bomb dropped across the street. The air raid wardens came and told us to go to the back of the building away from Brent Street. The building was originally built by the Church of England as a place for wayward young women and was run as a laundry. It was built as a quadrangle with the church facing on Brent Street, a dining room, kitchen, parlour, apartments, single rooms, a printery and a large laundry. It also had a large square tower. The roof of the tower could be reached by a vertical ladder that went up through a dark space with cobwebs and who knows what. Very scary to me! But I would sometimes make the ascent with adults who would go up at night to watch the fires burning in the city. The bomb went off the next morning at 9-o-clock. It brought down 3 houses ( no casualties) and the church had 1 small window. broken.

My mother was very nervous and worried that we might be killed. She had lived through the First World War but the only thing I know about her experience of that is that she would say, 鈥� I learned to drink my tea without sugar鈥�. I learned to do the same during the Second World War.
I thought that if a bomb killed you that would be that and why worry. My sister, Muriel, was born just before the war started so my mother had 2 young children to be concerned about. Much later when I had 4 children of my own I realized I would probably react much the same as my mother in the same position. Because my mother couldn鈥榯 sleep at night during the raids, once in a while my father would drive out of London into the country and we would all sleep in the car.

We lived about 陆 mile from Hendon Central where there was a large public air raid shelter. My father would go there sometimes to conduct hymn singing. I loved going with him because everyone in the shelter was jolly, telling funny stories and singing funny songs.

My father鈥檚 cousin, Henry Frenkel, lived with us. His home was in Poland but he did business between Poland and England and was able to get out when Germany invaded Poland. His wife, Pola, could not and was interred in the Lodz Ghetto. As a child I slept at night but my father would talk about Cousin Henry pacing the floor and groaning. Pola did survive and she and Henry were thankfully reunited in England by the Red Cross.

In August of 1941 my father was assigned by the church to a post in Northfield, Birmingham. In the house we lived in the dining room table was a Morris Table. This was a massive metal table for you to go under during an air raid to protect you from anything falling. We never had a raid but the table made a nice playhouse.

From then on the war for me was about rationing. My mother would stand in a lot of lines when she went shopping. We were vegetarians so we got more cheese instead of meat. Oranges when they were available were only for children under 5 so my sister would get them. Bananas were a rarity. My mother had been famous for her trifles. During the war she substituted shredded wheat for the sponge cake. I hated them. Soggy shredded wheat, ugh! My grandmother loved cake. She ate little that would be considered 鈥檙eal food鈥�. On rare occasions the bakery would have some cake but it was one to a person. My grandmother would stand in line but also give a sixpence to a young boy to stand in line to get another for her.

In Northfield I went to the Rathvilly School where, at the age of 10 I made friends with Roma Chaplin. Roma taught me to ride and we loved horses and Winston Churchill equally.

Then came VE Day. My whole street, Farren Rd. was full of tables the length of the street. Food and drink miraculously appeared and we partied all night.

Then it was election day. Large black cars marked Conservative or Labour would pick up people to take them to vote. Roma and I , too young to vote, to make our preference known, when we saw a Labour car would get out in the road on our ponies to delay them.. We were very unhappy with the outcome.

At the age of 15 my father was requested by his church to come to an appointment in America. Roma and after some years lost touch with each other. By a miracle, 25 years later we found each other and found we still loved each other as much as ever.

In May, 1995, Roma, then living in Dartmouth, urged me to come to celebrate the 50th anniversary of VE Day with her. I was not sure what to do till Roma said, 鈥淚t is 50 years since we sang and danced in the streets together. Please come鈥�. I did and it was wonderful. People put on their old uniforms. Yes, they still got into them. We sang the war songs we had loved and sung so many times. Listen to your special friends. They often know what is best for you.

I was lucky, my family was lucky. I had 2 uncles who were abroad who came home unscathed. We had no direct bombing or anyone we knew killed. I had no traumatic experiences. It seems strange to say that the war was a happy time for me. I think of George Bernard Shaw who said: 鈥淵outh is such a wonderful thing it is a pity to waste it on the young鈥�.

Thank you 大象传媒 for providing the opportunity, now I am 72, , for the first time, to make a record of this part of my life. And thank you to Roma who strongly urged me to make a record for my children and posterity.

I

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