大象传媒

MEMORIES OF A YOUNG GIRL LIVING IN LONDON DURING THE YEARS
1939-1945. WRITTEN IN JANUARY 2003

On the outbreak of the last war I was 15 and a half years old. I lived with my parents and brother in Dulwich, S.E..London. It was school holiday time and I was staying with friends in their house in Cornwell having, as it turned out, a last idyllic peacetime holiday. Midway during the holiday the terrible realisation that war was actually going to happen became obvious. I caught a train back to London and shall always remember the atmosphere of apprehension as, at each stop, more and more uniformed men boarded the train.

Next thing was standing in our living room, by the Radio, as Neville Chamberlain stated that we were now at war. My mother burst into tears. One has to remember, her鈥檚 was the generation that only twenty one years before, had been overjoyed at the Armistice following the first World War. My father had fought on the Western Front from 1914 to 1917 before being discharged having had a hand shattered by shrapnel. Now with two teenage children it was all happening again. The pain ,suffering and worry. Of course,for me at my age then I had no idea of the pain that generation, with memories so fresh, would be going thro鈥�. Not until I had my own children did I understand.
The next thing, on that Sunday morning was the sirens sounding. My father had reinforced the cellar of our old Edwardian house in the manner of the trenches in the earlier war. Great solid pillars of wood supporting the walls and ceiling. We went down there and I clearly remember my knees shaking, uncontrollably, due to my fear. I don鈥檛 believe this ever happened again I鈥檓 glad to say! Anyway, it was only a false alarm and for a period this lack of the expected air raids continued.
Initially my parents suggested I should go to New Zealand, to stay for the duration of the war, with relatives there. I thought this a very bad idea. I even opted out of evacuating to Brighton, with my school So the summer of 1939 saw the end of my schooling. What to do with me? (My brother, being four years older had already applied for service in the R.A.F.) It was decided I should attend Pitmans College for a course in shorthand and typing. When I became seventeen a career change. I was given a job in Barclay鈥檚 Bank in the City Road. This was rather fun. I was the first female to ever darken the walls of 146 City Road and the staff did not quite know how to deal with me. I was, of course, the lowest of the low in terms of office hierarchy, but I was 鈥渇emale鈥� and as such was treated with great respect. At that time the day-light raids over London had begun and often, as the sirens sounded we would descend to the Strong Room below the Bank.

During that period of my war-time experience I would travel daily by bus from my home to the Oval Tube Station, then complete the journey by tube. Invariably there were many people still lying on the platforms after seeking sanctuary there from the night鈥� air raids. We stepped over them to thecarriages. One particular day, after the notorious big incendiary raid during the night there were no buses running from my house to the Oval so I set out to walk. l remember vividly stepping over the great hoses which bisected the road thro鈥� Brixton, and the acrid smell of the burning which was still going on. Once at the tube station all was well, I was a little late for work that day but the reason given was accepted by my Manager.
My next career change took place when I became eighteen.

I started on the three year training of a Physiotherapy student, at Guy鈥檚 Hospital at London Bridge. Again travelling from my home in Dulwich each day, that period, working in one of the great London hospitals was inspiring and strengthening spiritually. I felt it a privilege to be part of it and still, at the advanced age of four weeks short of seventy nine have a few remaining dear friends alive who were students with me.. Even one of our Tutors, ninety in a few months time, who has already arranged her birthday party and invited those of her students still around to attend.

Certain incidents I remember of this period involved Rockets and Flying bombs. On one journey by train to the hospital a rocket landed a little ahead of the train beside the track. The train was perched perilously on the bank and we were.not allowed to vacate it. Houses had been hit and the heart rending vision of people being rescued from the debris, some alive, others dead, will stay with me forever. We were at last allowed to leave the train and walked the remainder of the journey to London Bridge, along the track

On another occasion we students were working for a while at unit of Guy鈥檚 at Orpington where badly injured service personnel were sent. As I left West Dulwich station a Flying bomb passed in the opposite direction I heard the engine stop, prior to it falling and exploding. I knew it was heading for the home I had just left I phoned directly I arrived at Orpington and to my relief found our house had been missed. Sadly, however, the bomb had fallen and demolished the house of good friends. The mother of the family was killed,, the rest of the family had not been in the house at the time and came and lived with us until they could be housed elsewhere.

There. were, of course, happy memories as well My New Zealand cousins had given their various boy-friends our London address which they made their base during the war. They were all in the Navy and left all their. gear at our house when they were off on operations. We never knew., when they would return but there was always the fun when they were back on a spot of leave. The house would ring with merriment and we would have dancing and songs round the piano. To to-days young this would seem.boring in the extreme, but to us, in those times it was all we could wish for. That these young men were back again, unharmed, at least for a. while,Further thoughts of a teen-ager in war-time London.
Memories now pouring back. The nights spent down the cellar. During one raid our house was straddled by a stick of bombs. Two landed I, luckily, in gardens on either side. The shaking and vibration was, I imagine, as an earthquake would feel. There were a number of us sleeping in the cellar that night, including one of our New Zealand friends. The whole house juddered and we were covered in layers of plaster from the cellar ceiling, our naval friend slept peacefully thro鈥� it all. We teased him afterwards but decided it was his life on the ocean wave in wartime. Being depth- charged and bombed at sea he was immune to a mere air raid on land.

Also, down in the cellar during night time raids I would often be studying. When the subject was anatomy I would have a skeleton with me. The real thing in those days, not the plastic jobs I believe they use now. I remember my father once commenting 鈥淚t鈥檚 bad enough having that racket going on above without seeing you surrounded by human bones鈥� He said it with a smile,really quite pleased that I was taking my work seriously.

I remember a charm bracelet I had to have with me on these occasions. If the raid started and I had left it upstairs I to go and get it before I could concentrate again: I used to pin it to my underclothes when I took exams. It was a powerful source of comfort and support. Anyway, I survived the war and passed my exams so perhaps it worked. I still have this bracelet altho鈥� it is not worn any more.
I recently found a diary I had kept between Jan.1st and June 10th 1943. It interesting to remind oneself how life just went on in those extraordinary times. Lots of comments about patients I was treating and my concern for them. Then, off to the cinema or theatre, to a world of make believe. Comments about air raids as just another routine in the day. Worries about a lecture I had not fully understood. Occasionally, for instance on May8th a note saying 鈥淢arvellous victory in Egypt! Bengarzi and Tunis captured!!鈥�
One item in my diary is of the visit of a young Canadian. A Sergeant Observer in the R.C.A.F.. He had the same surname as us and so was interested in meeting us. (My surname stayed the same after marriage, rather a coincidence considering it was a rather unusual name) The entry read, 鈥淗e arrived, a young and very pleasant Observer in the R.C.A.F.quiet of manner but I fear rather overawed by the crowd of strangers. (We had a number of friends in our house at the time)..He is stationed at Bournemouth and returns there to-morrow. Just as we were settling down to a meal the sirens went. Planes were over soon after and the Ack-Ack barrage was particularly heavy.We heard three bombs drop, that is three we were certain,of, or may have been more. I hope we see some more of Grant, I liked him.鈥�

We never did hear anymore of our visitor and recently, via a family web-site in Canada I found the information I had often wondered about. Sergeant Observer Grant Leatherdale had been shot down over Germany just a few weeks after visiting us.
One further diary entry of interest 鈥淢at 19th. In the evening we heard Churchill鈥檚 speech from the U.S.A. It was splendid and the Americans gave him such a terrific reception that I felt so proud of being English. This may sound sentimental but it really did stir me enormously鈥�

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