大象传媒

11.am 3rd Sept 1939 - We are at war. No big bang, we kids only really know about it because the grown ups had got all excited, then three days later Hitler bombed Britain for the first of many times and declared that he would bomb Britain in to submission. As we lived in Clyde side close to the ship building yards and engine workshops the decision was taken that we children should be evacuated.

In the next few days our gas masks were issued, rationing introduced and sweets were rationed, now it was serious.

It was decided that me and my sister were to be evacuated to our grandparents, where we always spent our summer holidays, rather that go with the school evacuation programme and as we always had enjoyed our summer holidays we both looked forward to living there full time. Our grandparents lived in the village of Garlieston in the south west of Scotland.

We had always gone down by train and off we went with all our luggage and of course our little cardboard boxes containing our gas masks, when we got to the station the noise was there the smoke and steam was there, but what a shock to see the station full of kids like us, all with their gas masks, some in orderly lines with a teacher in charge, some running wild about the station, some crying, some playing games. How they ever got on the correct trains and found the right destinations I'll never know, maybe some didn't.

It isn't until you get older that you realise what a burden it must have been for the older people having grafted hard all their lives, having earned the right to a bit of piece and quiet, to suddenly be invaded by a dose of noisy children.
My two cousins had also come to stay along with their mother while their father went off to fight in the war.

Even in the tranquillity of the village things were happening and changing, the church bells didn't ring out on Sundays or for weddings anymore. Nor did they toll for funerals; the bells were now the alarm to warn of invasion. On some nights one could hear the drone of bombers as they passed overhead on the way to bomb the shipyards of Clydeside where we had come from and we couldn't help worrying if our father was safe.. If an air raid was imminent the ARP went round the village blowing whistles as a warning, and when all danger had passed they came round again, this time ringing hand bells to tell us it was all clear.

There was a meeting place in the village, it was by the bridge over the Millburn, where the men of the village met in peace and now in war to smoke and chat, now from time to time some would disappear and months later return in uniform or not return at all, other older men would appear with a tunic top one week, other with an army beret, then perhaps a bayonet or even a rifle the next, these were the men of the Local Defence Volunteers. Yes you've guessed it, later known as the Home Guard, the original Dad's Army.

The surprising thing was that we kids were still supposed to go to school, from the summer holidays I knew all the village lads well and in my innocence set off looking forward to living and playing together again. Well for 90% of the time that was what happened, but for the other 10% it could be very ugly, though I knew them all, was friends with them all. This was different now, I was invading their territory, their school and so from that day to the day I returned to the city, every 3 weeks or so they put forward a champion and I had to fight him, don't ask me why, to them it seemed to satisfy their feelings that I was a "townie" and shouldn't be on their territory.

What they didn't know was that I had an advantage, before the war when my dad had been in the Navy in the First World War he had done his fair share of boxing. Later after the war he used to come home from work and out came the boxing gloves and he would get on his knees so that we could have a round or two of boxing before supper, so I did know quite a bit on the subject.

So the pattern was set for the next 3 years, every 3 to 4 weeks a fight would take place and also as time went on the opponent would get bigger and bigger. But then I was growing bigger too, but more importantly I was the only one getting experience, indeed after the first 2 or 3 fights I was beginning to enjoy the game.

It was a different matter for the grown ups, I was up before the headmaster for fighting and belted. There were rows with my grandparents, rows with the odd parents whose son I had beaten, then the police got involved, funny thing nobody asked why it was happening, then my dad came down and did ask why. He went and saw the headmaster, the police and talked to my grandad, from then on all the hassle stopped, not the fighting just the interference from the adults!

There's one more thing I have to say about the fighting before I leave the subject, the fights were all fair as could be, those not involved made a fair sized ring for us to fight in. If you were knocked down one stood back until your opponent got up, you would never have contemplated kicking or punching the man who was down. When he got up it was an unwritten rule that he threw the next punch and so it went on until one of you gave up, thankfully that wasn't me I didn't lose one fight.

The rest of the time we were good friends and did what boys did. We went to the beach with dogs, caught rabbits, very useful as meat was rationed, fished the 2 streams that ran past the village, walked the shoreline to see if anything useful had been washed up.
One night a German bomber had been shot down in the bay, the bodies of the crew were found, so we boys set off to see if they had been washed up on any of the beaches. Walking along one of these, one of the lads said, "What would you do if you found one" without hesitation another lad said, "go through his pockets of course"

Then something really exciting happened, one day the policeman arrived at the door and asked mother and my grandparents if they would allow me to be a police messenger in the event of air raids, invasion or emergencies. Well at the age of 10.... what an honour, what excitement - I wonder whether it was to do with the boxing and they thought I was the toughest - It didn't matter I had been chosen, there was more kudos to go with it, an armband, a military gasmask and a tin helmet with police written on it.

I never did take many messages, probably the most important job I did, was to run round the village and tell the ARP that there was a cup of tea ready for them at the Post Office. Probably the biggest thrill was to put my gasmask and helmet on the windowsill everyday alongside along side the other cardboard box ones of the other pupils.

Can you imagine it today being asked to be a Police messenger at 10 years of age.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.