大象传媒

AUDREY MOONEY鈥橲 STORY 鈥� MY CHILDHOOD IN THE WAR IN STOCKPORT

I was born 1939 and I know my Dad was already in the army training young men when the war broke out. I was nearly 7 years old before I saw him as he was with the Chindits fighting the Japanese so I didn鈥檛 know what he looked like or anything. I only knew I had a Dad. There were five of us living in Stockport with my Mother. We didn鈥檛 get many air-raids but we did have to go to the air-raid shelter down in the Tunnels. Stockport is very hilly and I was told that these Tunnels had been specially built a couple of years before the war broke out as it was known it was coming. They were at the bottom of a big hill, with toilets there. The Tunnels have been opened up as a Visitors鈥� Centre now. Those toilets flushed every hour on the hour and did so for years 鈥� no one knew how to turn the water off. The man that had set it up had gone.

I remember as a child my older sister was minding us. I was about 5. She put our balaclavas on and took us up a hill and we could see Manchester in blitz. She said 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what fire-works look like!鈥� I鈥檇 never seen a fire-work and thought this was great fun. The Air-Raid Warden came and gave us a clout and told us to get back home or he鈥檇 tell our mother and she would give us another clout for going out. I never tasted a sweet until after the war. I never knew anything different as I had been born in 1939. The only treat I got from my mother was some raisins in a bag. That was our treat. It did us no harm 鈥� I鈥檝e still got all my own teeth. In the cold weather when we came home from school at lunch-time we were given soup made from two OXO cubes in one bowl and some bread to be shared between two of us 鈥� so I had to be quick to get my share. I was the smallest so I got the least. I didn鈥檛 know what chocolate was. My mother took us to the shops and said 鈥淭hat鈥檚 chocolate鈥� 鈥� and pointed to empty cardboard boxes. 鈥淲hen the war鈥檚 ended I鈥檒l buy you some chocolate.鈥� When the war ended and we had a street party I said 鈥淩ight, where鈥檚 the chocolate?鈥� 鈥淥h the sugar鈥檚 still on ration鈥� she answered 鈥� and I was13 years of age when I first had chocolate. It鈥檚 true that what you never had, you never miss. When I was given a banana, I eat mine with the skin on. I wondered what the fuss was about bananas 鈥� I didn鈥檛 want mine. When my mother saw me she said 鈥淥h no, no 鈥� take the skin off.

People from Manchester, six miles away, had it as bad as London. Like Liverpool did. But it鈥檚 all London, London, London in the news. Many lost their homes. My mother used to take the five of us, one of us in turn one night a week to the pictures. She wasn鈥檛 short of money as she had my Dad鈥檚 army pay and was better off than some. When the siren went off when you were in the cinema you had to go out, run into the Tunnels, the Air-Raid shelters. You were given a ticket to go back to the cinema the next night to see the rest of the film. I loved going to the Air-Raid shelter. We used to have entertainment. A man used to come round with a piano-accordian and entertain all the children and we used to sing 鈥淪ons of the Sea, bobbing up and down like this 鈥︹�� We had some good times. One or two of my friends at school, their fathers never came home. My father started off fighting the Germans and then he was put with the Chindits to fight the Japanese. It was just coming up to the time of the year for me to start school when my mother got a telegram saying her husband was reported missing, believed dead. Us children were listening while she was telling one of the neighbours. We asked her where our Dad was. She said he was lost in the jungle. So I went to my friend鈥檚 showing off and said 鈥淢y Dad鈥檚 in the jungle and he鈥檚 a Sergeant, yeh!鈥� But he came home but he never spoke about what happened. The only time he said anything was much later when I grumbled at what I was given to eat. He said he would to take us to BelleView Zoo to catch a snake because that鈥檚 what they ate in the jungle.

I don鈥檛 know how my mother came through it with 5 children on her own. But children knew how to behave in those days. You had to make do and mend because of the shortages. My brother, he was about 12, had the morning off school as his shoes were in the cobblers and the man from the School Board came. There was a pair of my Mum鈥檚 shoes on the floor and he said for my brother to try them on. They fitted my brother and he was sent to school wearing Mum鈥檚 shoes! Even up to my mother dying he used to say to her 鈥淵ou made me go to school in high heels and all the lads laughed at me.鈥� He never really forgave her.

You know when there were potatoes, I think we were allowed a pound and had to queue for them. Because I was small I was always pushed to the back of the queue and when it got to my turn after waiting for about 2 hours the shop-keeper said 鈥淥h, no not you. You鈥檙e one of the (?name) family. And I got nothing. Another time my mother said 鈥淨uick, go off to the Co-op. They鈥檙e selling marmalade. Take the ration book. Hurry up. Me and my sister ran all the way. We didn鈥檛 know what marmalade was, but we got a jar and was carrying it home to mother 鈥� and dropped it on the pavement! We scraped it up on the ration book. You can imagine what the ration book looked like 鈥� and the broken glass. My mother just cried. She didn鈥檛 want it for herself but for us children. When speaking about it in later life, mother said that she cried and then she laughed because it was funny.

I don鈥檛 like this modern world where everything is so easy. Things are thrown away. We used to save the wrappers of margarine and lard to put in baking tins. We were the recycling nation 鈥� nothing new, this recycling. Nothing was wasted. No rubbish in the street. We used to pick up the gold paper from cigarette packets in the street and made Christmas decorations from it. It took us a long time to make them into balls and thread them up for Christmas. We also made paper chains at school.

When the war eventually ended we had a bonfire. My brother and his friends said 鈥淐ome on, we鈥檒l get some bonfire wood. I was only six so I was trailing behind. All the big lads were pulling out the forms we used to sit on in the Tunnels for the bonfire and to make go-carts. As we were going home a policeman came and chased us. We thought we had got away. When we got home my brother said not to tell Mum or we鈥檇 have it! Mum was sitting on the back doorstep waiting for us. She said 鈥淩ight, inside.鈥� 鈥淲here鈥檝e you been?鈥� We said 鈥淣owhere.鈥� She asked about the wood. We said 鈥淲hat wood?鈥� 鈥淭hat鈥檚 enough鈥�, my Mum said. The police have been here. I was scared to death. We had to stay in all that day, not allowed to play out. It was years and years later while talking to my mother I asked how the police had found out that it was us taking the wood. She said a red-haired boy had been seen and my brother was the only one in the district with red hair and the policeman only had to ask where the boy with red hair lived. A favourite saying of my Mum鈥檚 when she knew what we had been up to was 鈥淚鈥檝e got a little eye at the back of my head!鈥�

For parties my Mother made jellies with gellatine and raspberryade, cakes and paste sandwiches. We had hats made out of newspaper. But it was a party. For Christmas we had pillow-cases with stuff in 鈥� where my Mother got it from I don鈥檛 know. She was amazing. We had a new doll every year. I had a lovely black doll. The next Christmas I said that I didn鈥檛 want another new doll, I wanted clothes for the black one. One of my aunties made some clothes and I was so thrilled. I had a tin pram with my doll in it, but when I came home from school one day it had gone. The doll was there, but my treasure had been taken.

My father didn鈥檛 come home from the war until 1947. He stayed behind in Burma to rebuild the roads. I was about 7 years old and never really got to know him. Once home my father started drinking heavily. He wouldn鈥檛 talk about the war. Mother had had us children to herself for 7 years and Dad didn鈥檛 get much of a look in, so he took to drink. Dad got malaria a lot.

My mother was an amazing woman. She brought us up well; when we were cold, she cut down long-sleeved vests to make under-jerseys which we wore under our dresses. She taught us right from wrong. We all went to Sunday School. I had a good childhood. We took it all in our stride 鈥� we didn鈥檛 have social workers or counselling. We didn鈥檛 need them because we just got on with it, with Life. I don鈥檛 like modern life at all. Everywhere I go I see children stuffing their faces and I think 鈥淧oor little souls.鈥� It鈥檚 so different now.

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