大象传媒

Mrs Lodge is willing to have her story entered on to the People's War website and agrees to abide by the House Rules.

I was born on 14th September 1933, the youngest of my parents' three children. We lived at Mannamead, Plymouth. My brother Douglas was 3 years older than I and my sister Joan, 10 years older.

At the outbreak of war in 1939 my father had a trap door cut in the floor of the Dining room and another in the floor of the drawing room. This was for easy access to the basement below where it was advised to take shelter during an air raid. The safest place being under the staircase of the house above. Here there were bunk beds, Douglas in the top one and I below. We slept there during the Blitz. There were some chairs for older members of the family and other bits and pieces to make it homely. Douglas and I, quick to note the tin of biscuits and sweets etc. I could hardly wait for the air raid siren to go, any excuse to roll back the carpet and descend below for a tasty tit-bit!

At first the raids didn't involve bombing - just reconnaissance flights - so it was all good fun, although Nelly, our home help, looked on it all as a waste of time, sitting down there with nothing happening. We all looked on Nelly as part of the family and loved her as such.

I remember drawing boats and planes etc, on the wood around the trap doors, which no doubt are still there. One bed time Douglas and I, washing in the bathroom upstairs, had a quarrel which ended with him chasing me downstairs. I ran into the dining room past my father who was sitting at the table, missed my footing and went head over heels through the trap door, landing flat on my back on the basement floor. Whereupon I let my plight be known by many loud yells, but I was lucky and didn't have any broken bones!

We had a small incendiary bomb fall just outside our front door one night - no damage to the building, but I remember seeing our next door neighbour with bandages round his head for some time afterwards as a result of trying to put the fire out. Our house was in the middle of a terrace on a hill, so the depth below the ground floor varied, but probably no more than 5 foot at the most. One night during a lull in the raid, my father called us to the front door to watch a German plane caught in the searchlights being fired at - suddenly we heard the whistle of a bomb falling and we rushed back into the house, all falling in a heap on the hall floor, dad having given us a good push from the rear!

The day after an air raid, Douglas and I would go around the streets, picking up shrapnel - jagged pieces of metal from shells or bombs, the bigger the better for our collection. One prize exhibit being an undamaged tail-fin, probably from an incendiary bomb.

The 大象传媒 News Bulletins on the wireless were never missed and I became very worried when hearing of the rapid German advance across Europe, until France was completely occupied. We expected invasion. Every night I said prayers for the safety of our family and country.

My father was on the staff at the main branch of the Midland Bank. This building was destroyed during the Blitz and what records could be salvaged were taken to the Stonehouse Branch. The staff had to take it in turns, fire watching at night. One night this building was also destroyed - the night before dad was due to do his turn. The remains of the fire watchers were never found. Thereafter, dad was in the Branch at Drakes Circus, untl the end of the war.

Nelly had rooms in a large house at Greenbank, until it was destroyed by bombs. Luckily she was in the garden shelter and safe. However, she developed diabetes soon afterwards, which was said to have been caused by the shock. The day after this raid I remember walking home with my dolls' pram full of small items, retrieved from her home.

Douglas's school, Plymouth Hoe Grammar School, was destroyed during the Blitz and he later attended Plymouth College. The nearest big bomb to fall near our house fell on a gas main. It felt more like next door, everything shook with the explosion and left us with no gas or electricity.

Quite a number of Plymouthians would drive to Dartmoor at night to sleep, thus avoiding the raids and disturbed nights at home. My parents decided it may be worth while and one evening we duly set off. It was dark, no moon light and as car head lights had to be "shuttered" vision was somewhat limited. Having reached the Moors we soon turned off to the right, down a side road, until we reached a clump of trees. Here we picked out other people with the same idea. We hadn't proceeded far over the grass when the car suddenly lurched into a trench, leaning over at a precarious angle. With help we eventually got ourselves out, but any idea of our going to sleep very remote! We returned home in the early hours, as it turned out there was no raid that night. We never did it again.

At the outbreak of war I attended a Primary School called "Weston College". We used to have "air raid" drill, which meant all the children descending to the basement as quickly as possible. The thing I remember most was each child being given a wedge to put in the nouth, to bite on. Rather like a window wedge, to stop sashwindows from rattling - perhaps it was! With the concentrated bombing of the Blitz, the "fun" of sheltering in our basement at home was to vanish.

Towards the end of the Blitz 'we three' were evacuated. Joan and I (plus my teddy bear) went to stay in a very select house on the edge of Beechy Woods, Bucks. The home of a very successful businessman and his wife. They had a friendly old Spaniel who mostly slept, called 'Chum' and there was a maid who lived in called 'Greta' I would have been happier in the kitchen with her, but this was forbidden. My parents had passed on the message that I was very fond of jig-saw puzzles. On our arrival I was presented with a very big puzzle consisting of thousands of pieces, all very dark in colour and not the kind of picture to fill me with enthusiasm A far cry from the Donald Duck and Pinnochio puzzles I'd been used to at home, consisting of around 300 pieces. I'm afraid it was never completed. Although it was a lovely house, set in a beautiful garden, there was no one to play with and once downstairs for breakfast, I wasn't allowed to go upstairs again, until bed time, in case I put my hand on the wall and market it.

Joan worked as a shorthand typist in an office in Slough. When mum and dad visited us in the summer I asked to be allowed to return home again and soon afterwards I did. As soon as Joan was old enough she joined the WAAF's. After training and "square bashing" at Morecombe, she was stationed at Roboroough Airport and later at Mount Batten. She was a driver in the M.T. Section, which she enjoyed very much, more than office work. We were always excited if she arrived at our house in an R.A.F. truck. Joan met her husband to be, Eric Avery, at Mount Batten. He was in the Australian Air Force and worked on the engines of the flying boats.

Douglas had been stayinng with our Uncle Don in Winchester and now returned home too. While away dad had had an air raid shelter built in our little back garden - rather cold and damp, but there were not so many raids now.

Most of the schools had been evacuated out of Plymouth on our return. Some teachers who couldn't go with their schools, held classes in a spare room of their private homes. I attended one of these for a time. It was a modern house at the end of Seymour Road. There were about 10 children of assorted ages. The couple who also lived there had a fine looking son who was a pilot in the R.A.F. I well remember the sadness when news came that he had been killed. When I was nine I started at St Dunstans School, Stonehouse.

Towards the end of the war, as I lay in bed at night, I would hear wave after wave of our own planes, leaving to carry out raids over enemy territory. Joan came home with the news that she may well be taking part in the invasion of France, now being prepared for by the Allies. We were all very concerned for her, but in the event she wasn't called on to go.

Douglas and I used to have 3d per week pocket money, but with the war came National Savings Stamps and we each had our own book to stick our stamps in. Mum said that as the stamps were 6d each we were gaining another 3d per week. This sounded great, but of course we weren't actually getting any money in our pockets to spend - however, our sweet ration was bought for us. I usually chose Mars Bars, they were eaten and thoroughly enjoyed within a short time of purchase. Douglas, on the other hand, would rather irritatingly hoard his and once mine was eaten would display his still intact ration.

Everyone was urged to "Dig for Victory" and grow our own food. My father had an "allotment" on some spare ground which lay behind the shops at Henders Corner, about 5 minutes walk from our house. Many a summer evening Douglas and I would accompany him to the allotment because this was a splendid place for playing Cowboys and Indians etc. Often, on the way home dad would stop in Whiteford Road, looking over the high wooden fence to watch the people playing bowls on the green.

My sister, Joan, could play the piano very well and bought all the popular sheet music of the day. One evening when she was at home on a 48 hour pass, she spent a couple of hours playing all the well known tunes. The next day a young man who rented a garage opposite, told her he had stood at our front gate listening to her and how much he had enjoyed her playing. The young man was a conscientious objector, so my mother said. We didn't know his name but always referred to him as "Sunny Jim" because he was tall and slim, like the man on the Kellogg's Corn Flake box.

When the house next to ours became empty, a "bombed-out" family moved in temporarily. We became good friends and I was always invited to the two boys birthday parties. I believe their father became a labour town councillor, after the war.

The people of Plymouth were asked to entertain the Allied Forces from other countries, during the war. The idea was to innvite them for tea and make them feel 'at home'. There was the problem of language so we acquired a little book of 'phrases' from which we tried to pick out something appropriate to the occasion. Mum found one which she thought suitable at the tea table, in English it meant "The Lord helps those who help themselves". Even with this handicap we usually managed to get by. We started with two Free French sailors, 'Loucian' and 'John'. Loucian gave me a gold ring with "M" engraved on it. He said that one day I would be a fine pianist, as I had long fingers! Not a predicition that came true, I fear.

Then we entertained two Spanish soldiers, one of whom was called 'Ellio', he gave Douglas and I a pack of playing cards each with a picture of a Spanish Galleon on the back of them.

In between there were one or two others who came and went, then two Indian soldiers from the camp near Plymstock. The name of one of our new friends was 'Heddisha'. the first time they came to tea, one lifted me on to his lap. Never having seen an Indian before I didn't feel too happy at this and froze to a statue, too scared to move! According to their religion, they were not allowed to eat certain parts of farm animals. One day they arrived with a package dripping blood - no doubt with our small meat ration, my mother was pleased with the contents. However, our neighbours, next door but one, had quite a fright when they walked into their house with it in mistake for ours! Before the war my father had a 9.5 mm movie camera and projector. He used to take film of the family, but had also bought some of the old silent Charlie Chaplin films, popeye and Bonzo etc. These films were very good for entertaining our new friends and dad offered to take them to the Indian Camp, for all the men to watch. We were duly invited, also to have afternoon tea there. A great fuss was made over us at the camp, tea being laid out on a table in a small room with one or two officers. It must have been winter because there was an open brazier burning coke, in the room. They were a familiar sight out doors in winters, with men working on roads etc, but not indoors My mother couldn't stand the smell of the fumes and felt faint, so we had to ask for it to be removed. However, the film show was a great success. I was always fascinated by their turbans, which rose to a point like a pyramid, in the centre.

The close of this period of 'entertaining' came after the war had ended and we had moved to Southampton. There was a POW camp on the common and at Christmas people were asked to entertain them. We then got to know two German soldiers called Richard and Hurbert.

When the war ended Joan, Douglas and I went to London to join in the Peace celebrations. It was all very exciting and the massed crowds of people a bit frightening.

Joan and Eric were married in 1945 at St Gabriel's Church, Peveril. Their eldest daughter was born the following year in Plymouth. By this time Eric had returned to Australia with his Squadron and Joan (and the baby) followed as a war bride.

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