大象传媒

My Childhood War in Reading and Bath

VE &VJ IN READING

VE DAY. Victory over Europe was a wonderful, wonderful day. Everyone was singing, dancing skipping , cheering and crying all at once. Every emotion possible, as lots had lost loved ones or were missing some like us still had people 鈥榦ut there鈥�. My brother Patrick Wason was in the Navy, my sister Margaret Wason in the WRAF and my Dad鈥檚 youngest brother Les Price in the Royal Artillery (unknown then, somewhere in Holland). At that time we never knew where they were or even if they were still there but they all three came back. We were some of the luckier ones.
We had a fancy dress street party in the Sandpit, the Robert Hewitt Recreation Ground over the road. The big ornate iron gates were right opposite our front door in the Tilehurst Road, Reading.
All streets had parties. I don鈥檛 know how the adults managed to get food, being so very little around. Maybe the Yanks had something to do with it? They had lots of everything. We had things like paste, cucumber, jam sandwiches, buns and even jelly, a lavish spread for those times. There was lemonade made from lemonade powder in large enamel jugs. They even managed to get beer for the grown-ups.
You had to take your own plate and a cup. They got the piano out of the old Jolly Brewers pub, that was pulled down in the early 60鈥檚. They took it in turns to play all the oldtime and wartime songs. My eldest brother Edward Price(Ned or Lofty)(who was on the GWR footplate as a fireman along with my father Edward who was a steam engine driver), played as he was a pub pianist and had a lovely tenor voice. The music went on from late morning till almost the next morning. Lots of us were in fancy dress, clothes made out of old curtains, tablecloths and so on. I was dressed as Salome with seven veils (Dad鈥檚 big white hankies). The outfit was made from old muslin curtains dyed pale green white socks and black strap shoes!!! My cousin Rosemary Wise was dressed as a Chinese Mandarin, made out of my Nan鈥檚 old pinny (apron) and skirt. My Aunt Daisy Wise as a chimney sweep, Uncles shirt, trousers and waistcoat. Mum, Elsie Price as Britannia in Union Flags. The rest of our family didn鈥檛 dress up but plenty of others did. My brother Eddie was 鈥榮eeing鈥� a chorus girl from the Palace Theatre and she got us some wax stage makeup , it worked out alright to start with until we got hot and it all ran down our faces, we looked a pretty sight. All the men were walking around with their pints of Mild and Bitter or Brown Ale. The Landlord, George Bishop used to ration it out amongst his regular customers as they frequently ran out and the cry would go round 鈥淭he pubs got no beer鈥�, so they daren鈥檛 put it down unattended.

My father was on late shift so had to leave the party. He was unable to drink alcohol before he left, so we kept his till the morning.

VJ Day.
Victory over the Japanese. We had another big street party, this time it was in the 鈥極pening鈥�, which was a large stoney based piece of land about 55 feet across and ran downhill 150 feet aside our houses in Tilehust Road. It was between the end of our houses, which was a bake house with steps next to it leading down to our 鈥榖ack bricks鈥�. The other side of the Opening was the public house called The Jolly Brewers and running down from that four small cottages and the whole was called Bartletts Place. There were also a row of 16 cottages along the backs of our gardens, which were 150feet long, across the Opening and along the side of the cottages, called Rose Hill Cottages.

We had a very large bonfire at evening (at last after all the war years we could have one after dark). The grown ups had made a life size 鈥榞uy鈥� and placed him on the top before lighting.

Father had tied a brown piece of cardboard around it's neck with the words The Yellow Basket on. It was years later I found out that is what they called the Japanese enemy and what it actually ment. It was the biggest bonfire we children had seen up to that point. The adults cooked us potatoes in their jackets, they tasted of wood smoke. The next morning we went around lots of other streets and admired the amount of ash the other kids had left. We never had the 鈥榦urs is better than yours 鈥� attitude, that prevails today. We just knew that everything was going to get
better and better.

Wartime in Bath Somerset
We played most of the time on the bomb sites as they appeared. We found all sorts of things amongst the rubble. Sometimes we鈥檇 get shrapnel from the bomb casings. There were things from people鈥檚 homes and businesses. The best place was the bombed stone built church at the bottom of the lane that was opposite the shop. It still had vaults and crypt where we made camp with old broken furniture and anything else we could find. We stored all sorts of finds. Although it was such a frightening time, this we made the most of.
Air raids were terrifying especially at night. We were under ground level where it was safest, well safer than upstairs anyhow. One night the shops and living accommodation on the opposite side of Monmouth Street were completely flattened and a lot of the people killed.
We children were wrapped in feather eiderdowns and blankets in the kitchen below the shop when they fell. All the windows at the front were blown in with the blast.
I remember (I was about six) the dust in choking clouds, people screaming and picking out shards of glass from the eiderdowns. If it hadn鈥檛 been for them!!!!!!!!! We weren鈥檛 allowed to stand until they had made a way through.
There was only one tall narrow building left standing over the road and for some years after there was an old brown leather handbag, hung on a hook on a wall right at the top. It must have rotted away unnoticed. Our Front Room was right opposite but no one saw it go.
It belonged to a woman called Ruby who had a second-hand clothes shop and she luckily survived.
Policemen often called in the shop to see if things were ok, checking on goods etc. One day a constable came in after a bad air raid. He warned Aunty not to let any of us children up near St James Church, in town, as it had, had a direct hit on the church yard and wasn鈥檛 safe . Unfortunately we overheard and before she could tell us not to, we were gone. The church was between the city centre and The Parade but when we got there it was not a pretty sight. We were use to seeing bombed buildings but this was an ugly one there were bodies and bits of stone and coffin everywhere. The smell and scene was really indescribable. They were putting tarpaulins over and they eventually set it all alight , as there was nothing else they could do. We weren鈥檛 there at that time they did that and we got into an awful lot of trouble for having gone there anyway. They eventually built a Marks and Spencer鈥檚 there in the late 40鈥檚.
My fathere Edward Price, told us along time after of how when taking a lot of what he called "the bowler hat brigade" (government officials) to Aldermaston from Paddington. They had an air raid when they were going alongside the Kennet and Avon canal and as he braked they all jumped in and all you could see were bowlers floating downstream. Must have lightened the situation! The only death that time was one cow, thank goodness.

EVACUEES
During the war in Reading we had six evacuees and Aunt Daisy next door had four. They were all from the eastend of London, Bermondsey. After the war Mum took in children from unhappy homes. Some had been ill treated physically and mentally. All these and living with my 鈥榗ousins鈥� in Bath my childhood seemed to be full of children. We always slept in double beds, 鈥榙oubled up鈥�, head to toe , like pilchards in a tin. My half brothers and sister at least ten years older than me as both my mother and father had been married before. Everything was always very jolly. When you were unwell you were allowed to go into Mum and Dad鈥檚 bed, I enjoyed that part of being unwell.
When Dad came off shift in the middle of the night he鈥檇 get Mum a cup of tea and he would also come the next flight of stairs and bring one up for me as well. I always felt very grown up then.

Dad used to be away days at a time, on the ammunitions and SPECIAL trains. He wasn鈥檛 allowed to tell anyone at the time when and where because the enemy might have found out and blown up the trains. He had a couple of medals and certificates for his war work. One was for driving his engine slowly in reverse out of Victoria Station empty, to get it away from the people and buildings with an unexploded incendiary bomb on the boiler. The bomb disposal took over from there. I remember walking down Castle Street, Dad was walking towards us and Mum cried when she saw him as he鈥檇 been away somewhere unknown for very long period, she鈥檇 been so worried and to see him just walking to us was a bit too much for her.

When London had the very bad blitz, we could see the skies glowing bright red over to the east over London from our attics in Tilehurst Road as we were so high up, even though we were 38 miles away. Not a sight you were ever likely to forget once seen. The evacuees were in a turmoil as ther parents and families were there. Although being young we were not as fearful as the adults but as they got terrified then we children picked up on it and were frightened also. I also remember the Nazis dropping incendiaries all along the Thames Valley to light it all up for the big bombers to bomb the towns , factories and docks. You could see as the various ones cought alight on buildings and vegetation, it sent shivers down your spine.
One day during the war we were on the top floor watching through the window, our planes going out and someone shouted that there were 鈥楪erries鈥� and we all scrambled down but one of the East end evacuees who was eating an apple got a piece got stuck in his throat. It was only the quick action of our Mum (she had been a nurse) grabbing him around the middle that she managed to dislodge it and got him breathing again. Pretty frightening to us children . Then it turned out to be our own Spitfires anyhow.
We used to wave at the aircraft that came over low enough to see the pilots. They were usually on their way back to their airfield and were obviously on a high having made it home and would wave back at us. A German came in low one afternoon in 1944 and machine gunned all the way along the Oxford Road,
Right through the middle of the town. Lots of people were killed that day including children coming out of the schools. A sad, sad day.

COLLEEN'S SOLDIERS ON THE CEILING

In 1942 when I was 5 years old, I 'went down' with measels. I was quite ill as there was nothing to combat it in those days. Rather than my mother running up to the next 2 floors I was put in my parents big soft bed on the first floor. My father worked shifts driving on the GWR, so Mum was able to sleep with me. All six evacuees were up on the next floors so they wouldn't catch the germs.
Mum had lit a coal fire in the grate, which was next to the bed and the room was warm and rosy in the gas light and fire light.She had put the old blackened tin kettle on the side of the fire bars and it was steaming gently to vaporise the air. There was a chipped cream, enamel wash bowl with a white flannel to help 'take down' my tempreature.
The stairs door, next to the bed,led out to the parlour, then down to the kitchen and sculleries. The house was an old Georgian building and leaned crookedly east so none of the doors fitted well. There was an inch gap on the west edge as the doors faced south. This caused a considerable draught and you could see the flames of the fire flickering sidewaysin the grate.
I could feel the damp, dark curls stuck around my face. down the back of my neck and on the flannelette pillow. In the distance I could hear above the the steaming of the kettle, the crackling of the coals and the hissing of the gas light, the faint sound in the distance of a brass bandplaying.
It was getting slowly nearer. Looking up at the fire light shadows on the ceiling, I saw coming into view, marching, massed army bands in full bearskins and red tunics. None was more than 2 to 3 inches high and they were upside down as though I was looking down on their heads rather than looking up. They stamped loudly all over cobbles with cymbals crashing and drums beating. The sargeant was barking out commands. They were marching back and forth, turning, wheeling to the music. On they went I felt, keeping me safe till I fell into a deep trouble free sleep.

Mum told me after it was hallucinations bought on by the illness or an upset liver.
Whatever the reason, all I have to do, to find comfort in the long years since, is to remember my mother fussing and those massed bands still marching forever onward all over that long ago ceiling, in my parents old house that's no longer there.

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