大象传媒

Beneath a canopy of beeches, the Windwhistle Inn of 17 century origins, standing on a ridge of 800 feet above sea level often cloaked in a misty haze always exuded a certain magic, be it from it`s superb location or it`s tales of highwaymen, ghosts and witches and the Devil to jolly times enjoyed by many customers throughout it`s history of 300 years or more.

But a different type of history was about to enter the stage of Life of the Windwhistle, that of fear, hope, tenacity, foolishness, jollity and a belief that England would survive the onslaught of war.

In 1939 War was declared on Germany by Great Britain and the Hall Estate, opposite the Windwhistle, gave itself to the accommodation of the military. The House was requisitioned and nissen huts by the hundreds were erected all over the grounds. Then the soldiers and their tanks, lorries, jeeps and ammunition moved into quarters in idyllic surroundings.

First of all, it was the Warwickshire Regiment, then the Poles and the Czechs. Everything was buzzing; the Czechs cooked in the open air on Dutch ovens, and taught me and my brothers how to do Cosssack dancing and to play chess. When one of them had a birthday, they would throw the birthday boy from one to another through the air for a celebration, we still had the marks years later in the dining-room ceiling where a lad`s boots came to rest! The Windwhistle Inn was the natural "headquarters" of various armies and every week there seemed to be a celebration to be enjoyed. Our piano was played every day, either by my mother or by guests and customers and there was lots of singing and jokes being told, especially ones about Hitler and Rommel.

Later on the American Army took over and we again saw another way of life emerging; they even had chicken in cans, an unbelievable sight for one who had only ever seen chickens running about in our yard. The uniforms and language were all different and they brought their music; jazz, country and western, and the jitterbug, and it was the first time I had seen a black man. They had only ever existed in my encyclopaedias which were my `bibles`. I had a couple of pen friends in America - relatives of their lads here, for quite some time, which was very nice for me!

Co-existing with the Army on Hall`s estate, was our own defence force in shape of the Searchlight Station at Purtington, and the Home Guard - the 3rd Somerset Battalion. I remember one Christmas Day when Cookie and Yorkie and others of the searchlight station were enjoying a pre-Christmas drink in our bar, when Cookie left us to go back an to oversee their turkey. He set off on a "sit up and beg" bicycle down the narrow lane, only to be plummeted head-over-heels on a bend. My father quickly drove him in our Morris 8 to the Chard Cottage Hospital. What a nasty ending to a happy morning when they had all been singing: "You are my Sunshine ...".
I remember standing at the back of our bar by the till and all the squaddies looking at me and singing as if only to me!

The Home Guard used our pub as it`s unofficial H.Q. where they came together for drill practice. My father was Liaison Officer of this company and I recall that I giggled at the sight of so many mis-shapen and short and tall `locals` (including the local poacher) in the group trying to look serious and I was sent indoors with a stern telling-off!

My brother John, worked as a toolmaker at Westlands Aircraft in Yeovil and made Spitfires, etc. We swopped his duties as a Warden one night with his friend and unfortunately a bomb hit Yeovil and his friend perished.

Petrol was rationed and coloured pink to avoid illegal supplies being used, and my father had various farm implements for hire in our sheds for farmers eager to get to our pub for a drink, as well as hiring the machinery! We also had quotas of beer and we always used all of ours, so we had an arrangement to collect extra from another publican in a nearby town. Our beer was in 9 gallon and 18 gallon casks and served from the stillage, as was the rough cider in 4 1/2 gallon casks. I seem to remember the beer being 1s.2d. a pint and 9d. for cider. The brewers were Brutton Mitchell and Toms. Nearly everyone smoked during and after the war and cigarettes were quite cheap and varied, one could even get a small paper packet of 5 Woodbines. Pipes would give out a `considered` aroma (not for the faint-hearted) and cigars reserved for occasions such as Christmas or birthdays. All was very cosy at night-time with the blackout boards locked into place over the windows, the fires blazing with logs and the kitchen range working overtime. The vehicles on the roads had half-beam lighting and there were no sign-posts; one had to know where one was going and how to get back in the dark, especially after a jar or two of rough cider!

My mother gave Christmas parties with a Father Christmas for the village children and they all had presents of silver charms, etc as keepsakes.

The War ended eventually and a celebration bonfire was lit in our fields with Hitler burning on it. What a night! We could all breathe a sigh of relief and begin to live again, once we had also celebrated V.J.Day in August, 1945. But we all had memories of the men in the army camp who never came back and of the black news over the radio of various catasthropies. It was the wireless then and powered by an accumulator battery. At 6 o`clock the news was listened to avidly by the whole family in our kitchen. I shall be ever grateful to the B.B.C. for the Home Service and the Light Programme - so much information, good music - both classical and `modern` and the comedy shows. They really kept our spirits high all through the War.

The opening hours of the Windwhistle were 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. and 6 p.m. to 10 p.m., except for summer-time when we closed at 10.30 p.m. (Summertime was 2 hours difference then).

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