大象传媒

GAS MASKS AND DOODLE BUGS

By: Roseann

My parents did an excellent job of protecting my brother and myself from the horrors of World War 2. My hometown of Stowmarket, Suffolk was close to several airfields. As the town had over two dozen pubs it was a popular venue for off duty airmen. I was a young child at the time, being born in late 1938, and the subject of war was only mentioned in front of me when absolutely necessary. Such occasions were when the Air Raid Siren went, when we heard the doodlebugs and when Dad counted the number of planes leaving from Mendlesham and returning next morning. These were Spitfires, Hurricanes and Lancaster Bombers.

We had an underground shelter in our small back yard. We didn鈥檛 like going into that so Dad got an indoor shelter. It was so large it almost filled the living room. It had detachable mesh sides and doubled as a dining table during the day and a spacious bed for my brother and myself. It was very cosy with a mattress, pillows, and blankets, and with the sides in place felt very secure. On occasions when the siren sounded around bedtime, Mum and Dad joined us.

If no sirens had sounded for a while we were allowed to sleep upstairs. We鈥檇 just got settled one night when we heard the drone of a doodlebug approaching. Dad yelled at us to get downstairs and under the shelter. He rushed down the stairs pulling on his trousers as he did so. The doodlebug engine cut out, seemingly overhead, and we thought it was going to hit our house. When the explosion came, it was not far away but luckily missed us. Dad opened the front door to see what was happening, puzzled that his trousers didn鈥檛 seem right. Then he realised they were on back to front.

We were taught how to use a gas mask at a very early age. On my first day at school I carried my gas mask in a boxy case with a long strap so it fitted over my shoulder and across my body. I don鈥檛 recall ever having to use it. However, we did have to use the underground shelter at the back of the playground a few times. We were always pleased to rush out of there the moment the All Clear sounded.

My Dad bought a 1934 Citroen the year I was born 鈥� the only car owner in the street at the time. It was kept in our garage for most of the war years. Dad worked as a van deliveryman for a small local company. He expected to get call-up papers but they never arrived and so he just carried on working at his usual job. He found out that his boss had obtained an exemption for him on the premise his work involved an essential service 鈥� delivering a variety of goods to people living in remote country areas. As he wanted to make a contribution to the war effort he joined the Home Guard. As a relatively young man at the time, he probably most closely fitted the character called Joe Walker from 鈥淒ad鈥檚 Army鈥�.
Apparently Dad was charged with not cleaning his rifle and was called before the C.O. The reason he gave was that his missus hadn鈥檛 cleaned it properly for him. That sounds like the sort of reply Joe Walker would give.

As well as his full time job, Dad kept chickens on 2 acres he leased from a local farmer. The cockerels were fattened to sell and the hens kept as laying birds. We had apple trees and currant bushes and Dad kept a large vegetable garden. He also occasionally obtained real farm butter in exchange for dressed chickens. I got the impression when I was older that my Dad did quite a few dodgy deals during the war years.

A family of two adults and a child were evacuated to us from London for a short time, and kept in touch afterwards. When they visited, they brought tins of fruit in exchange for eggs and farm butter. I was too young to understand at the time, but was aware we never had any food shortages. Of course my Dad did this to provide a good standard of living for his family in very hard times.

The local pub was a few steps up the street from our house. There was always a lot of noise in the evenings. It was frequented by both British and U.S. airmen. Arguments often spilled out onto the footpath and I can recall Dad yelling out the front bedroom window on occasions telling them he was trying to sleep.

When the war ended there was a big party in our street. Tables covered in white cloths were set up along both sides of the thoroughfare. Every household contributed something to the meal. I know there were a lot of colourful jellies and simple trifles. Blancmange was a favourite, and a treat, in those days. Sandwiches were made from fishpaste, and egg and cress. We had sickly sweet cold drinks and gobstoppers. It was the Americans who brought the gobstoppers along.

I didn鈥檛 know of anybody who was killed in the war; none of my family went away. My life was very pleasant and protected.

It鈥檚 strange to say but I remember those wartime days as a peaceful and safe time for me.

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