大象传媒

I was born on 3rd September 1939, my parents said that the war was started because Winston Churchill wanted me for England and Hitler wanted me for Germany. My father's contention was that Churchill demanded that Hitler take possesion of me, but Hitler demanded that I remain in England! In the event I lived in London throughout the Blitz and the Battle of Britain. I don't remember a great deal of either of those, but living in Bromley in the early days we did travel down into rural Kent during the summer of 1940, my mother, father, my sister Babs and I. We did as a family, see some of the dog fights both during the Battle of Britain, and at other times when aircraft came over, although I was only a year old I definately remember seeing trails of planes in the sky and the excitement of my parents as we sat in the fields and watched. During the Blitz my father was away on "special duties" and we had moved up to Leytonstone in the East End. We had been allocated an Anderson Shelter which was in our back garden covered with earth and turfs and it became the cause of many mini battles. As soon as the sirens went off my mother would drag us out of bed with pillows and blankets and take us down to the air raid shelter. It was always already full of neighbours who had got there before us, but my mother would demand that they came out until we had been settled in. There were several occasions when somebody refused to vacate and my mother would leave my sister and I there with one of the neighbours while she went off to find a policeman or an air raid warden. Often she would arrive back with someone only to find that the illegal occupant of our shelter had vacated the bunker and that we children were snuggly wrapped up inside on our beds! I cannot remember much of the early days of the air raids or of the blitz, but I have vivid memories of bombers coming over and of the searchlights lighting up the sky. My mother used to sit my sister and I on an upstairs window ledge with our legs outside of the window and the sash window then pulled down onto our legs to hold us in place, and there we would sit to watch the display outside. It was much better than television especially when a building lit up in flames or the fire engines or ambulances came blaring around the streets! I had a Mickey Mouse gas mask but apparently I was terrified of it and would never wear it even though my mother was constantly threatened with action by the local wardens. There were a few explosions around our home however and eventually my mother reluctantly agreed that my sister and I should be evacuated, to Manchester of all places! Apparently I was sent to a family in Manchester, but seperate from my sister, but when I arrived there had been an incident of some kind, I am unsure as to whether it was a bomb that had been dropped, or a plane that had come down, but it apparently destroyed the houses where I had been elected to stay. I was sent back to London, my sister who was unaware of this and who could anyway have had no influence on events, remained at her given lodging. I spent a few months back at home with my mother before being re-assigned to a family in Leavenshulme in Manchester. There was a panic at the station before I set off, my mother had turned away for a minute and when she turned back I had disappeared. They found me in the engine with the driver and the fireman, after a few cross words all was made well when the driver promised to personally see to it that I was handed over safely once we reached Manchester. I travelled up there with the train crew, with my little case and a string around my neck with my name on a label! The family to whom I was evacuated were named Howells but they did not meet me at the station, I was loaded onto a lorry with a group of other children and we were driven around and delivered. Mrs Howells later told my mother of her first meeting with me, apparently I had alighted from the lorry and she was walking towards me and a few others who had alighted at the same spot. Some local children who had gathered to see what was happening, asked us if we had seen the "Vacees" who were supposed to be arriving soon. I, acting as spokesman for our little troop said "No we have'nt seen anyone, we've just come up from London." Mr Howells was the manager of a large department store in Manchester and he frequently took me into the store, presumably on a Saturday. I have a very vivid recall of the store, there were tubes attached to wires which led all over the store, you took the lid off, put in some money and pulled a lever. The tube would then shoot across the shop above the heads of the staff and customers, to wherever it was needed. Because I was the "son" of the boss, I was allowed to pull the levers and enjoyed the envy of my schoolfriends, many of whom came into our store with their parents at the weekend. The Howells had a grown up daughter, though I shamefacedly admit that I cannot recall her name or age, and apparently there was another boy who had been billeted with them, though I have no recollection of him either. Apparently the Howells family grew very attached to me and decided to try to adopt me, they made overtures to my family and also consulted a solicitor, which started alarm bells ringing. In 1944 my mother said that she wanted me back and although my sister remained in Manchester for some time, I was returned to London.
The sad footnote to this tale is that I grew up and travelled the world for many years, so that I saw little of my own family, and nothing of the Howells. In about 1978 I returned to visit my family and happened to travel to Manchester to see a friend. Finding myself in the Leavenshulme area I phoned my mother to ask if she knew of the Howells' address, which she gave me. It was dark and I was in a seemingly endless road, unable to see any house numbers, so determined to call at a house at random and ask if they knew where the Howells lived. The woman who answered asked which Howells I wanted to see and the reason for my call, before divulging any address. To my amazement,when I told her my purpose, she burst into tears and invited me to come inside for a minute. Her husband came out to meet me, and while the woman was putting some shoes and a coat on, he explained that his wife was a nurse. For about five years this nurse had looked after an ailing Mrs Howells after Mr Howells had died. For all of her life after the war ended, Mrs Howells had prayed that I would go back to see her, apparently the other chap had kept in constant touch. Even more amazingly the Howells had maintained a secretive contact with my sister for years and she had even been up to visit them upon occasion (we had visited each other during the war as we were both evacuated to the same city. After her husband's death, Mrs Howells never gave up hope that someday I would come to see her, and spoke about me constantly to the nurse I was now with. By this time the nurse was shoed and coated, her husband put my car onto their drive, while the nurse set off with me in her car. As we drove through the night, she filled me in with some of the history of events until I asked if she thought that Mrs Howells would remember me. "I'm taking you to meet the daughter," she replied, "Mrs Howells died a few months ago, still asking about you."

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