- Contributed by听
- rydell
- People in story:听
- Audrey Langley
- Location of story:听
- Dartford
- Article ID:听
- A2127999
- Contributed on:听
- 12 December 2003
War was declared a month before my 11th birthday and I remember the day so clearly. My cousin, who was the same age as myself, had been staying with my parents because he lived in the centre of Manchester and always enjoyed spending the summer with us.
My uncle arrived to take my cousin back to Manchester and I went with them because my parents thought I would be safer there than in the outskirts of London. The journey was made by car, with our head-lights covered because an immediate blackout had been ordered
From Manchester I was then evacuated, with my new school, to Blackpool where we had to share premises with the established school. I remember always feeling cold and I was so homesick but I did`nt tell that to anyone. Like most evacuees, I returned home long before the end of the war and Easter 1941 saw me back home and at another new school.
We had a large army camp on the Heath near my home, where guns would fire at enemy planes during an air-raid. We also had oil stoves (that`s my best description) set at regular intervals on the pavement and these were lit at dusk and they sent out plumes of dark smelly smoke. The house used to be full of little black specks! Before we had our own shelter we sometimes shared with our neighbours and only all fitted in by lying head to tail like sardines. Other times we sat in the cupboard under the stairs.
I don`t remember being hungry but often fancied things. Bananas especially.
Any spare piece of land had to be used for allotments and from his own allotment my Dad would bring home fresh vegetable. I am speaking the truth when I say that I have yet to taste peas quite like those of my war-time years.
My brother was 7 years older than me and was a fighter pilot. No words can describe my feelings of pride when he came home on leave with those wings on his tunic. I never knew the dangers he faced but I always remember my Mother`s fear of telegrams. His best friend from schooldays, a bomber pilot, was reported missing with never any more definite news than that and I actually saw someone`s hair turn nearly white almost overnight. He was her only child and we had all been to his 21st party a few weeks before.
Doodlebugs! The first night they appeared we thought they were planes which our guns were shooting down one after the other. The truth soon became clear. I was 15 years old at that time and my fourth year exams were looming and I was really scared of doing very badly. I said a prayer asking for something, anything to happen to stop the exams taking place. I made this plea the day before the doodlebug raids started and I have remembered that plea ever since. School of course stopped immediately in our area; no exams except for those taking School Certificate.
The war years were full of strange happenings, scary moments, excited arrivals, weepy departures, queuing, anxieties and towns and villages full of strange uniforms. When D Day approached we would see may convoys with numerous lorries packed with troops passing through towns and villages. We always waved to them but as a young teen-ager ( a term not invented then) what could I have known of the horrors they were about to experience. They were all so young.
My brother survived to enjoy life to the age of 72 years and my parents survived also. I was definitely one of the privileged and lucky ones. I know many not so fortunate.
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Message 1 - Schoolgirl
Thanks for your story Rydell. Well written and very descriptive! I was quite unaware of the oil stoves on the pavement which presumably replaced street lighting. Who had to light them?
Despite what you said, I don't hold you entirely responsible for the doodlebugs :)
Referring to the nature of the V1, you say the truth became soon clear.
I read some years ago that outside London there was censorship on reporting rocket successes. Presumably that was to avoid loss of morale and to deceive the Germans. Have you any comments on that?
paul
Message 1 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Hallo, rydell! I'm Carey, one of the Writing Buddies on the WW2 site, and I very much enjoyed your contribution.
If you would, I would be interested in working with you to expand on some of the topics you bring up, asking you some questions for more details, etc -- you yourself have created an intriguing list! You say 'The war years were full of strange happenings, scary moments, excited arrivals, weepy departures, queuing, anxieties and towns and villages full of strange uniforms' -- I'd like to know more! And it would be interesting to talk more about your experiences when you were evacuated, and also to hear more about your brother, what you remember of him.
If you could like, give me a shout by hitting the reply button below.
Thank you for your contribution!
cheers,
Carey
听
Message 2 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Posted on: 10 January 2004 by rydell
Hello Carey
Have only just read your reply and if I can help in wartime memories I will only be too pleased. Must first say that I am a novice with computers and only have access to Internet by helpfulness of my family. Computers scare me!Luckily I used to be a typist so that helps a little.
听
Message 3 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Posted on: 10 January 2004 by rydell
Hello Carey
Have only just read your reply and if I can help in wartime memories I will only be too pleased. Must first say that I am a novice with computers and only have access to Internet by helpfulness of my family. Computers scare me!Luckily I used to be a typist so that helps a little.
cheers, Rydell
听
Message 4 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Hallo! Thank you for your response, and for your contribution.
I am pleased your family are helping you out on the computer front -- there is absolutely NO need to be afraid of comps -- they are but typewriters with pretensions, aren't they.
It would be lovely if you could write some other stories for us when you have the time. Some of our contributors have portfolios of many stories, so do feel free to create as many as you wish.
The final paragraph in your current essay is filled with intriguing story ideas -- do tell us of a strange happening or two, or of one of the scary moments; describe for us the queues. What sorts of things made you anxious? How did you cope? Tell us about the 'strange uniforms' -- were there American soldiers in town? What did you think of them?
Perhaps you might also tell us about when you were evacuated from your uncle's -- now when you went to stop with him, that was family, and familiar in a strange time. How did you feel about being evacuated? How did you travel to Blackpool? What was your new family like, and how did you come to live with them? What was different about living with them than at home or with your uncle?
And, absolutely, we would like to hear about your D Day memories, as the site is putting together a project specifically for the anniversary (of D Day and also Dunkirk).
Don't worry if this seems to be too much -- do please take your time! Whilst you are thinking of new stories, you might wish to write on your 'About Me' page -- many visitors to the site will click on contributors' names, and this is a nice spot to tell everyone who you are, where you lived, etc., in case perhaps someone you used to know sees your story. Or perhaps someone might have a question for you, or be interested in starting a discussion like this one -- ay any rate, please feel free to write a short biog for us!
cheers,
Carey
听
Message 5 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Posted on: 14 January 2004 by rydell
Hello Carey
Thanks for your reply, am at my younger daughters tonight and have the opportunity to send a reply. Its rather intimidating to sit down and try to make an interesting and coherent message from so many years ago but in saying that, at my age I do find it easier to remember childhood days than what I did last week!
With regard to evacuation I remember being quite excited at changing my home for my uncle and aunt鈥檚 at Manchester as they had a Wine and Spirit shop which was actually in Moss Side which I understand nowadays is not a very healthy area to live in but in 1939 the road in which the shop was situated was a delightful place to live and we knew all the shopkeepers around us, I went immediately to Notre Dame Convent School to enrol but they had moved to Blackpool so, as my cousin was also evacuated from his school St. Saviours, my Aunt and Uncle took us to some people they knew who were taking in evacuees and we stayed there. There were about 8 of us children in this large boarding house and I do remember the meals ----- porridge for breakfast, jam sandwiches and an Oxo cube to take to school for our packed lunch and stew for the night time meal. I never remember that changing. Two of the children ran away from the house but were caught trying to get on a train to Manchester. I was very unhappy during this time and it was hard at the new school as my accent was so different to every one else and as I was a very small child the uniform did not fit me and was too long and no one bought me a satchel so I carried my schoolbooks in a brown carrier bag and they often got damp and that brought a reprimand. I realise now that my Aunt and Uncle were very busy with their business and probably could not visit us, but my own parents who were quite a bit older would possibly have got there. Because we shared the school facilities we had lessons such as games , needlework, art and gym in the morning and general lessons in the afternoon. From the netball pitch one could look over at the Pennine Range and it was so cold there! To my relief my school had obviously found the arrangements too difficult and we returned to Manchester after Christmas. In spite of this beginning I loved my time at Notre Dame and as I was the only Protestant child in the school I think that says a lot for the nuns there. I realise that my evacuation was a lot less dramatic than most but I still remember the longing to be in my own house with my own Mum and Dad. I left Manchester at Easter 1941 and then had to get used to another school where my accent again stood out as it was pure Lancashire!
I wish I could write something about D.Day but I don鈥檛 recall anything that reflected on my own life. The preparations for D.Day were mostly in the West Country and although we saw many army convoys the great amount of troops would have been in Devon or Dorset. This too was the time of the Doodlebugs with all schools closed in our area and I went back to Manchester to my Aunt and Uncle and this time I enjoyed every minute of it. I was 15 years of age and soon made friends and had a lot more freedom than I had at home and like all girls of that age was very taken with all the different uniforms and the occasional chances to chat and meet up with so many different nationalities, American Canadian, Free French, Australian etc. My Aunt knew I was enjoying myself and so she suggested that I might like to stay with them, and she got me a job in the office of the local Brewery but my Father soon put a stop to that and I was home to start my fifth year at school by the September. This is so mundane compared to my brothers life at this time. He never spoke of his life as a fighter pilot but after the War he said that when the onslaught for the crossing of the Rhine was in progress he would come down to breakfast in the morning and see all the empty spaces and he knew that, by the law of averages, his turn was imminent. He had already written his farewell letter.
This must be very boring stuff and I will close but I have lots of info about my brother`s life as a pilot because my youngest grandson did a profile on him and my sister-in-law is still alive and I was able to gather a lot of facts that were quite amazing to me, stuff that I never knew was happening.
If you need any more I am happy to continue as long as my family can put up with me hogging their computer. You are right all the time I think of it as a typewriter I am O.K.
Cheers Rydell
听
Message 6 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Hallo, Rydell, and thank you for your wonderful new story.
I think sometimes it CAN be intimidating to sit down in front of this big blank sheet (whether paper or computer screen) and think, oh my, how can I fill this out? One of the lovely things about this site is that contributing feels less like some difficult school task, and more like having a bit of a chat with friends, really.
One thing you could do is draft your stories on a Word programme on your [family's] computer and then you can tinker before you submit them; it's not hard to learn (honestly!) and I'm sure that your daughter would be happy to help you. At first I found all of this intimidating -- the very first time I had to use a word processing programme, I didn't quite understand the 'save' function and I do not know how I managed it, but I saved a 2 page document to the point where it had been repeated over 150 times! To make matters even more embarrassing, this was in a public computer lab at a university (in 1987), so many people heard the assistant's comments when he realised why the mainframe's memory was suddenly overloading...I've improved slightly since, I think!
You know, it would be lovely if you would write about your brother; you could add it to your stories just as you submitted your original memoire. Now you know we have some excellent researchers on the site, so if you have any questions or wish to confirm or corroborate any of the details of your brother's history, they would be delighted to help you. So please do not hesitate to ask them!
As for what you have written today, absolutely not is it boring. Quite the contrary. I think you have vividly captured some of the difficulties in adjustment you had to make as a child, some would say little things, but still representative of how the greater troubles of the time affected everyone. The disruption and strangeness of the school, and your accent! I must admit I understood a great deal of that, having switched schools as a child, and yes! I know about having the 'funny accent', the uniform that didn't quite fit, and I didn't have the 'in' sort of satchel either...but one does cope...
And it is interesting that you experienced such a contrast at age 11 to age 15 -- what was a bit of a trying circ suddenly became quite interesting!
Thank you for your contributions as they are most appreciated. Do keep writing as you can.
cheers,
Carey
听
Message 7 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Posted on: 11 February 2004 by rydell
Dear Carey
As promised, some memories of my brother, Jimmy, a fighter pilot of the second world war. He volunteered in November 1939, firstly choosing the Royal Navy as a crew member of a submarine but was turned down on medical reasons and so he chose the R.A.F. hoping to be accepted as a pilot.
He did not take part in the Battle of Britain, as he was not trained in time. His squadron was the 56th squadron, also known as the Punjab Squadron as the Maharajah of Punjab was its patron. He promised the squadron that at the end of the war he would give a great party for them and he kept his word giving them the sum of 拢500 which in 1945 meant they could have quite a party! The badge of the squadron had the words 鈥淨uid se coelum ruat鈥 and I think that it meant 鈥淲hat if the heavens fall鈥. As I only learnt Latin for one year at school I have no idea if that is a correct translation.
My brother flew Mosquitos and later in the war was always flying Mustangs whose speciality was for low-flying. Early on he had a bad moment when he saw his best friend Johnny de Clerque shot down as they flew over the channel on their way back home. When possible pilots were given one week`s leave every 6 weeks but of course during the invasion this was not possible. During their leave they were given a week,s ration of petrol and if they didn鈥檛 have a current licence then a member of the family could drive them.
During the invasion of Europe my brother was flying Mustangs to provide fighter cover for the invading forces. At this time Hitler put out an edict saying that all pilots must be shot on sight and not captured as prisoners of war. This was at a time when German cities were being heavily bombed by the Allies. Because of this danger, all pilots flew in Army khaki and had a knife secreted in the side of their flying boots so that, if shot down, they could cut off the top section of their boot, leaving an ordinary Army type issue boot on sight. The scarf that they wore was a map of Europe in some detail and they also had various European currencies sewn in their uniform and a small phial of morphine complete with needle if they were injured. I always wondered why fighter pilots were allowed to wear their jackets with the top button undone but apparently this was because, in a cockpit not pressurised, it was necessary to pull the scarf tight when going into a dive and from this the fashion of leaving the top button undone was not disallowed by the authorities.
My brother Jimmy was shot down on one occasion during the invasion, baling out and landing in a tree injuring his shoulder. He was in enemy territory but only a few miles from base and so was able to get back safely. We only thought he had injured his shoulder playing football (my brother was a great sportsman and always seemed to get a game up of some sorts). We found the truth after the war in a book written by Pierre Clostermain entitled 鈥淭he Big Show鈥 and in it he mentioned that Brocklehurst had to bale out. My brother鈥檚 plane had N for Nuts written on the side and when he got back after leave he was always happy to see that it was still there. Some of these memories I have been able to gain from my brother,s widow, Mary and she related to me that towards the end of the invasion Jimmy was taken with many other pilots on a train ride which ended up at a camp, a concentration camp, but I don鈥檛 know which one. After this visit they had a different attitude when strafing up enemy railway lines where there were often civilians and soldiers fleeing from the trains. Mary repeated a phrase which is difficult to forget saying that from that time, if it was necessary, they were prepared to shoot Man, Woman, child, dog. It is hard for me to believe that this came from my gentle, likeable, easy-going, fun loving brother. At the end of the war, whilst in Germany, pilots were advised not to go out showing wings on their tunic, but to keep their greatcoats on. German civilians were very angry against all pilots.
My sister-in-law has asked me if you would be able to verify and give any information regarding Lady McRoberts. Mary remembers having a holiday at Lady McRobert`s estate in Scotland close to Aberdeen and between the rivers Don and Dee. The house was available for pilots and their wives for a weeks holiday and there was no charge for the men and the wives paid 6 shillings. Everyone relinquished their caps and tunics on arrival because there was no hierarchy whilst on holiday and hence no saluting. Mary thinks that Lady McRoberts had three sons who were all bomber pilots and who all lost their lives in the war. She said that she thinks Lady McRoberts gave a bomber plane to the R.A.F. which was named McRoberts Revenge. This is remembered from almost 60 years ago and it would be interesting to Mary if there are any records of this. Another incident she would like verified is that just at the end of the war my brother was part of an escort of V.I.P.s to a highly important meeting in Denmark. She well remembers Jimmy saying that they were treated very well and I do know that for years after that time in Denmark he could never face even looking at a gin bottle!
This probably has too much information that is already known but as I once heard a young friend of my grand-daughter saying (when she found out that I lived in a granny-flat with the family), 鈥淚 can t stand old people, they are so nosey and they are always talking about the war鈥. So the B.B.C. has made an old person happy!
Cheers,
Rydell
听
Message 8 - Feedback on Memories of a schoolgirl
Hallo, Rydell - how lovely to see you here again!
Of course you are not boring, and there is no thing as too much information!
Your tales of your brother are much appreciated.
It is interesting, how you felt that it seemed so strange to hear about your gentle brother saying harsh words...I have a friend whose husband served in the Special Forces during Vietnam, and he is a very kind, gentle man -- a right 'James Herriot' who today breeds and shows sheep! Yet he still refuses to speak much of his missions, and he has had to speak with counsellors to help him cope with some of the terrible orders he had to give during those times...it is a cliche, but war is hell, isn't it....
On a lighter note -- the scarf you mentioned, printed with the map -- do you know, you can still buy such things! There is a company in Quebec that makes city maps on 'parachute silk'; I keep two in my jacket pocket, central London and the Tube -- and yes, I have used them in an emergency! They're so small and light and crush down to nothing, yet silk is so sturdy -- I daresay that was the advantage!
Now about your Lady Robert -- you might wish to contact Bob Gibb who is another Writing Buddy on the site, and his personal page is linked on my page; he is based in Aberdeen, and may be able to help out with your questions.
For the other info, about your brother and his VIP treatment, there are a couple of excellent military researchers also on the site, and you can find links to them also on my page -- I'm sure if they can they will help you and your sister-in-law track down further information.
And of course in the meantime, one hopes that other visitors to the site will read your story and have some more info for you; one thing we hope is that as more people discover the site, there will be more conversation, memories prompted, and inspiration.
Thank you for writing more for us, and please do not hesitate to continue to contribute!
cheers,
Carey
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