大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library on behalf of Gerald Jarvis and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

What does?... Many will say LOVE! Other鈥檚 may say WEALTH! And some even blame the weather! Whereas from my own meagre experience I consider it was WAR!

How well I remember those bright and hazy summers of the late thirties, most of which were spent in idyllic environment and surroundings during my youth at Cley-next-the鈥揝ea on the North Norfolk coast. A guest of my very dear Aunt and Uncle along with various cousins and there were many light hearted spats and differences of opinions.

Uncle ran a shop situated on what was then known as the 鈥淣ew Road鈥� Cley, mainly purveying in confectionery and tobacco, also a few tinned goods, fruit and an assortment of medication, shoe laces, rubber soles and heels. Any other dry goods not on display could be selected from a catalogue hanging from the wall on a stout piece of cord, and thence be ordered from the big City.

At the rear of the shop there was a roofed-in area, Uncle had this fitted out as a form of clubroom for the lads of the village who could not afford to fritter away their hard earned shillings at the pub. It had a full sized billiard table that by means of a hefty plywood top could be converted into a ping-pong table. There was also a dart board and game of hoopla, the like of which I have never seen anywhere in the world since. It consisted of a board with hooks and numbers, and even if your aim was such that you got a ring on say 鈥渢en鈥� the number would spin round to say 鈥渢wo鈥�. Most frustrating and the cause of the occasional oath!

At one end of the room was the semblance of a fireplace and on a winter鈥檚 evenings lads not engaged in any amusements would sit roasting chestnuts and spinning yarns that would make a chief stoker blush!

Uncle meantime would be behind the shop counter mending boots, as he was the village cobbler, postman, maker of wreaths and wedding bouquets, sometimes carpenter and the most tenacious man I ever knew.

Auntie, besides minding the shop, running the house (which in itself was a mammoth task as there was no running water or electricity) and also ran the parcel agency for the Eastern Counties Bus Company, and did Bed and Breakfast for visitors. In spite of all the afore-mentioned, all us youngsters were well fed and shod; life was good.

It was one of those glorious summers in the mid thirties that Uncle decided on a fresh venture, which entailed a lot of hard work for him and many locals.

An area was cleared at the end of Beach Road, which was behind the shingle bank and all in conjunction with the local Parish Council of course! The full politics of which I was too young to understand.

Next a small shed was erected close to the Beach Road from which cigarettes and sweets were sold, and was also headquarters for running the car park.

This ran well for a year, the following year however saw the addition of a much larger concern, in the shape of a sectional timber building some 12 feet x 30 feet, this was to be the Tea Room!

This very soon became a popular and busy venue. Various Aunts and friends turned up to assist with the endless tea making, but the best feat of achievement and tenacity was the way all supplies, crockery, portable stoves, other accoutrements even fresh water were transported from the village to the beach.

Uncle as a postman was allowed to purchase his 鈥淕PO鈥� bicycle, a really sturdy machine, after the second year for the modest sum of ten shillings. The next operation was to modify the metal carriers fore and aft to support cartons and crates. Next a strong wooden trailer was constructed, mounted on two cycle wheels and a trailer bar bolted to the rear of the bike below the saddle. Many a time it took the combined strength of two of us youngsters to hold the front of the machine on the ground until Uncle was on board and ready to peddle, especially when loaded with the two large glass carboys filled with the precious fresh water so vitally needed. The same method had to be employed also for the Ice Cream along with the container of 鈥淐hemical Ice鈥� necessary to keep it at the required temperature.

The venture was a success. That was until the high spring tides of 1937, when the poor old Tea Room suffered considerable damage and partial collapse at one end and much of Uncle鈥檚 crockery etc; was washed away.

Still undaunted, as soon as conditions permitted, Uncle was out there repairing and rebuilding, and soon had his pet prot茅g茅, ship-shape, Bristol fashion and ready for the coming Summer season!

As I have already related, the summers of the 30鈥檚 were really glorious and through 1937 and 1938 Uncle was able to get back on his feet and indeed virtually put the beach of Cley-next-the鈥揝ea on the map for visitors and holiday makers.

But whilst the summers were good the winters were harsh.

I remember well the winter of 1938 was particularly cruel with very deep snowdrifts.

That year I made the journey from Norwich to Cley as I was to spend Christmas with dear Aunt and Uncle, I was also to be responsible for taking all the goodies that go to make a happy 鈥淵uletide鈥�. But what a journey that was, with many stops to be dug out of drifts, also bearing in mind that an old Austin truck of that period had holes in the floorboards for the various pedals and other controls, which combined with the fact of no heater, made for very good, but rather chilly ventilation!

However we survived and so pulling into The Feathers Public House in Holt for lunch I was asked what I would like to drink. I promptly asked for a 鈥淧ort and lemon please鈥�. As aged only 12 years old this raised some eyebrows! But due to the extreme weather conditions and what we had just been through I got my drink and very warming it was too as I recall.

What a wonderful Christmas that turned out to be; the snow got deeper and deeper and the temperature dropped, but we were warm enough in that cosy old house. Uncle kept us all amused reciting various monologues and songs, playing the violin, although not exactly 鈥淧alm Court鈥� he was after all self 鈥搕aught, bless him.

The following Spring and Summer were glorious and coupled with the fact that the village now had the wonderful new invention 鈥渆lectricity鈥� laid on, life was suddenly much easier, especially for dear Auntie with all her chores. No more oil lamps to be cleaned, wicks trimmed and filled with paraffin in the winter, although I always did rather care for the smell! It did seem such a dreadful shame that so many fine old lamps were now to be dumped in rubbish pits.

The long hot summer of 1939 saw a bumper season for Uncle鈥檚 booth on the beach and shop, with ice cream sales soaring, a large chest freezer had been installed at the rear of the shop, this made things easier for storage, but we still had to cart that beastly chemical ice to the beach.

However in spite of the good life, the clouds of war loomed on and even as children we were aware of the seriousness of the situation and saw various preparations being made along the coast.

At the end of each season Uncle arranged a special treat of some kind for us youngsters, however in 1939 with the situation being so critical and the crisis that was looming he decided it would be more prudent to await the latest news, this being the second Saturday in September. But rather than disappoint us Auntie said she would take us on the train to Sheringham and what a treat that turned out to be.

On leaving the station we stopped off at a large store and my Aunt decreed that it was so near my Birthday, the tenth of that month, I should have my present now. In no time at all I was the proud owner of a very colourful bathing towel, it had draw strings at one end enabling it to be tied at the neck so it could be used as a modesty wrap for changing on the beach. The next item on the agenda was for Aunty to hire a beach hut for the day, such luxury we had never encountered before! What a glorious day it turned out to be, sun shining, sea not too cold. I well remember a small raft offshore, constantly swimming out to it and diving off.

Evening came all too soon as we made our way back to the station just in time for the train home. We were met by Uncle with the sad news that War was imminent and that he had been instructed to clear everything off the beach within the next 3 days.
Although we mustered plenty of help from the village lads, we barely had time to complete this heartbreaking job than the Sappers were mining the beach and stringing out barbed wire. That Sunday, September 3rd 1939 of course, we heard that fateful speech of dear old Mr. Chamberlain that 鈥渁 state of war now existed between Nazi Germany and us鈥�. From that moment on our lives changed for evermore, as did the lives of so many throughout the world at this time.

I do not remember exactly where that wonderful old tea room was moved to, but as I recall it was re-erected and used as an arsenal for the 鈥淗ome Guard鈥� as Uncle held an important position in that gallant group of old veterans.

This now meant a major setback for Uncle鈥檚 business. His little shop was not a full grocery concern so he could not deal in rationed goods, and most of the young lads that used to frequent the shop had gone into the forces. It was a case of shutting up shop and moving on, so Uncle secured an Insurance round. This necessitated that he and Auntie moved. They went to Burnham Overy Staithe, a very picturesque small village by the sea, but dear old Cley-next-the-Sea it was not. Even more heartbreaking their Son and Daughter, my cousins, had to move into lodgings in order to retain their jobs of course.

The tea room that once was, again had to be dismantled and was put up in the garden of our new premises to be utilised as the 鈥淗ome Guard鈥� armoury.

At this point I was living at home, Dad was the licensee of a public house in the centre of Norwich, and he also held an important job as a 鈥淪upplies Officer鈥� for the Ministry. This meant that he was responsible for keeping all Army Camps in our region supplied with all things volatile from candles to coal!

Travel in wartime Britain was very restricted, particularly within a 3 mile radius of the coast and so this meant applying for a travel permit in order to visit Aunt and Uncle. Strangely enough I was granted permission, but Mum and Dad鈥檚 application was refused. Dad was furious! And so in the Summer of 1941 I had two glorious weeks holiday in Burnham Overy. Part of the beach was open and so I was able to have one or two exploring trips along the bank to a point known as 鈥淕un Hill鈥�. It was uncanny to look both ways along a deserted beach and I suppose to a certain degree I felt a sense of guilt with the rest of the country being at War, although at this point I was not yet 15 years old.

Returning home and back to reality, having completed my education (such as it was) aged 14, the time had come for me to decide what I intended to do in the way of future career, in other words get out there and start earning! Having done very well at woodwork at School I decided to try my hand at this as making a living.

For my first attempt I managed to get taken on a by a small local Builder with a view to being indentured, but no sooner was it considered that I was a worthy candidate than my prospective employer was called up. I was approached by a gentleman aware of my situation who agreed to take me on as an apprentice, warning me that his business was both as a builder and an undertaker, which was quite common in that day and age.

I was fortunate enough to be working directly with the foreman, a very skilled tradesman well into his sixties and found I settled into the routine really well. Then came the Blitz on poor old Norwich. That meant that we were either making coffins until all hours or doing blitz repairs. As a result any decent joinery work had to take a back seat for the time being.
In the meantime dear old Aunt and Uncle had moved back to their beloved home village of Cley, Uncle having secured the position of gardener and general factotum at Cley Hall, the residence of Lady Cousins Hardy, and with his job gained the use of a small but cosy cottage. This time the poor old tea hut had to be re-erected in the garden, not as an arsenal, but as an additional bedroom as the cottage was so small.

The first night of the Blitz on Norwich was really quite severe, to the extent that in Cley on the coast 25 miles away the bombing could be heard and the flashes lit up the sky. So, early next morning Auntie on her single speed upright bike came all the way to the city see how we were. I had managed to re-hang some of the doors and board up most of the windows, only to have them blown out the next night!

The air raids continued, although with not such ferocity as we now had a range of Ack-Ack guns around the City plus plenty of barrage balloons, having been completely unprepared and an open city on the first night. As my Dad remarked, we should have expected it, as the Lutwaffe were making a tour of the Cathedral Cities, later known as the Baedeker raids.

We were subjected to several devastating incendiary raids in spite of the fact most households had previously been issued with a pair of specially designed sandbags with instructions and diagrams on how they could be placed on top of bombs to prevent the spread of flames. Hitler鈥檚 backroom boys soon sorted this out by designing an 鈥渆xploding incendiary鈥� which burned for a relatively short time and then blew up in your face, thus causing heavy casualties, especially among the poor ARP wardens. However, we soon learned to recognise these by the extended length and a blue ring a few inches from the end.

On attaining the age of 16 I enrolled as a messenger boy with 鈥淐ivil Defence鈥�, I was also a cadet in the ATC (Air Training Corps) and attended the local Technical College three nights a week so I was kept very busy, as were most others in wartime Britain. The frequency of the raids decreased considerably thank goodness, but of course this was due to our wonderful lads who took such a heavy toll against the enemy in the Battle of Britain. Then came the new weapons from our adversaries, first the V1 known as Buzz Bombs, which although frightening gave some measure of warning of their approach, whereas with the V2 rockets there was no warning at all, and poor old London suffered the brunt of these.

One interesting episode of the air raids took place when Dad decided that it was time I had a rest from all the activities I was involved in and arranged via a friend that I should spend a quiet weekend away from it all. I found myself dispatched with my small overnight case on the Saturday to The Green Man public house at Rackheath. That night the airfield at Rackheath was bombed. As we crouched beneath the snooker table for cover, the landlord raised his head, and with a wry grin in my direction said 鈥測ou brought these b鈥�..s with you, didn鈥檛 you鈥� This of course raised more than a few laughs!!

So the War continued, endless blackouts, food rationing became even tighter and even clothes rationing was introduced; ladies converted parachute silk into undies and Doctor鈥檚 surgeries were almost empty, people never fitter, there seemed to be very few fat people about in those days. Of course the inevitable black market thrived, but even dear old Mr. Churchill was reputed to have said that if and when it was possible to obtain a few 鈥渆xtras under the counter鈥� then good luck.

Life in wartime Britain seemed to settle into a pace with people making the best of any given situation, most certainly after the Blitz the population in general came together in a common cause. It almost seemed a way of life to which we had become accustomed. But then came the Americans, and in the early stages what a mixed blessing that appeared to be, what with their brash ways, smarter uniforms, and much higher rates of pay than our lads; this very often caused a bit of friction with the locals. However it soon became evident that besides a very generous nature their intervention was to become a turning point in our struggle as regards the war situation, the tide very much with us, with talks of a second front and 鈥淒鈥� day becoming self evident.

At this point I was brought up with a jolt as to what would happen to me, I was now aged 17. Being a member of the ATC I applied for aircrew, but was turned down as there were no vacancies at that period, also it turned out I was colour blind. This delighted my Mother as she had always maintained that both Dad and I suffered from this, and it had been the cause of many arguments in the past! I then had to face the harsh reality that 50% of conscripts could end up working down the pits under the 鈥淏evan鈥� plan, whilst conceding this to be a worthy cause I felt it was not for me.

So I hurried round to the Naval Recruitment centre, only to be told they only had openings for Cooks or Stokers. It was then I met the Royal Marine Sergeant who said he had just the uniform for a smart lad like me, and I believed him!

I reported to the Royal Marine Barracks at Deal in Kent, did my basic training there, found that I took to the life and made a good soldier. I was all set to take an active part in the War at long last. But it was now 1944 and my services were not required for long, I was told I would be de-mobbed with early release as building workers were urgently needed at home. Thus in the Summer of 1946 it was back to the tools as a carpenter for me.

Was it the right decision? As there had been so many (too many) CHANGES

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