大象传媒

This story was entered ont the peoples war website by John Warner on behalf of Bert Vickery, the author who fully understands and accepts the sites terms and conditions.

The bomb scare was the last scare that broke the camels鈥� back, and as much as my dear old Dad, Albert, five foot two inches of him, said to Flo, my Mum, 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry girl but you must take yourself to a safe place, so he arranged for me, sister Nellie, and dear old Flo, through the Town Hall, Shoreditch, to be on their evacuation scheme. We were put on a train at St Pancras Station one miserable morning, there was at least thirty adults and sixty children. On the way the people and their children were dropped off at each station, I remember it like yesterday, Luton, Bedford, Wellingborough, Kettering, and by the time we reached Market Harborough there was only four families, including us, the Vickerys. To this day, all them many years on, I remember being hustled into an old van and we were taken to what was known as The Square, because it was a market town, and they had this lovely Square. Well we were lined up like prisoners, along came those people who were going to take us in, to select those who were taken in as evacuees, and lo and behold, Flo my Mum, Nellie my sister, were the last to be selected, and to our horror our so-called saviour was two old maids. Their names were Freshwater, they were seventy year old spinsters who had a mansion in Coventry Street. The spinsters spoke to us as if we were inferior human beings. The first insult was because most other evacuees had suitcases and my family had all their worldly goods in two brown paper shopping baskets. Then the old maids said 鈥淚s all that you can afford?鈥�, well we were speechless, and life with these two old maids was unbearable. We had to pray every meal time, attend church three times on Sunday, my poor old Mum Flo was frightened to answer back for fear of being evicted from this massive house which I鈥檓 sure was haunted. My sister Nellie was lucky enough to obtain a job in an engineering firm that had been sent from Coventry to Market Harborough because of the damage that was done in Coventry, and she found better digs at Mrs Twyneham who I will mention in a later stage of my memoirs. She left us very upset.

In the evening, though we had separate bedrooms, I did secretly go into Mums鈥� bedroom where we cried one another to sleep, and although I was fifteen years old at the time I was glad for me to sleep with my dear old Mum, then sneak back into my bedroom before the deadly spinsters came to life. After a week the Labour Exchange found me a job with an electric contractor, but sadly the work was at the Royal Ordnance Depot being built along Dalby which was three miles from Melton Mowbray. I explained the situation to dear old Flo, my Mum, she was upset naturally, but she said, 鈥淚f you do take this job you might find digs that are in Melton Mowbray鈥�, which I did. There my memory is playing tricks with me because I asked my grandson to go to the Internet to find when Coventry was raided and the Cathedral was bombed. I then had a little rest from my writing and I heard from my grandson, he told me that the Coventry was on November 14th. 1940, there was no way I could dispute this information because it was obviously it was obtained by the state of the internet, so you couldn鈥檛 question it, though I remember reading in the newspaper that during this raid on Coventry nearly every anti-aircraft gun was put out of action, and at this Army Ordnance Depot the next morning there was 200 Beaufort anti-aircraft guns on their way to Coventry, and I was fifteen years old but I had my wits about me, and the Sergeant Major, who was in charge of this ordnance depot, I said, 鈥淗ere guvnor, that鈥檚 like shutting the barn door when the horse has bolted鈥�, I come to regret that because he reported me to my guvnor, the contractor, and I was to regret it because later on I was shipped off to Catterick Camp.

I鈥檇 better diversify to explain that the exact date of the unexploded bomb dropping on old Al鈥檚 house in Shap Street, Shoreditch, took place for sure on either the 10th. or the 11th. May 1941. The reason I say this because I read an article published in The Daily Mail newspaper on a book written by Kevin Mortimer. Here is a quote from the article, 鈥淔rom the fall of the first of the incendiary bombs on The Tower of London, at 11 p.m., on the night of May 10th. 1941, and the last bomb that hit Scotland Yard, (that鈥檚 the last incendiary bomb), at 5.30 the following morning, more than 3,000 Londoners were killed or severely wounded. 11,000 houses were damaged.鈥�, which included dear old Al鈥檚 house in Shap Street, Shoreditch, and it was incendiary bombs that made the raid on the 10th. so unequally dreadful. This was the nearest to the firestorms that were to obliterate vast tracts of German and Japanese cities. This article tells me almost to the day when the bomb dropped on Al鈥檚 house in Shap Street. So May 10th. 1941 will always be to us, the Vickery and the Jarvis family, the longest night. Anyway to me and my family and my parents and neighbours, May 10th. Will go down as a miracle that that blooming bomb didn鈥檛 explode.

Yes, the next day after Coventry, it was all devastated, rumour, I鈥檝e already told you that bit, that the anti-aircraft guns were silenced that night, and anyway my loveliest memories of this old Dalby Army Depot, in I er . . . I think it鈥檚 called Leicestershire really, was meeting so many characters, such as a crowd of 鈥榮quaddies鈥� who were from the Pioneer Corps, middle aged blokes, ex prisoners, fiddlers, boxers, hard cases, who wouldn鈥檛 stand for any 鈥榖ullshit鈥�, and were labouring for my electrical contracting company or the electrical company that I was apprenticed to. I鈥檝e never been away from home, but for some unknown reason these lads took to me and made my life a little more happier, although they played so many tricks on me when they were putting up the poles so that we could run the electric cables into their billets.

I meant to mention that in this old Dalby army camp was an electrician, his name was Ned, like my Dad 5鈥�2鈥�, a bloody good all round electrician, industrial, domestic, and as I was to find out, also had theatre experience. He had tongue like a fire pump. He came from Chadwell Heath, another character in my life who would not suffer fools gladly. The Commander of the Army Depot summoned my guvnor, the electrical contractor, to tell him that a concert was arranged for the troops and ATS girls at the Camp and there was a top orchestra coming along to perform with two highly thought of lady singers. The Bandleader was none other than Carroll Gibbons who wanted to send his own electricians to wire up the stage lighting, but the Commander asked my guvnor if he could find an electrician in our mob who could do this work. Well the obvious bloke was dear old Ned who had had West End theatre experience as well as his industrial and domestic experience. But when Carroll Gibbons got wind of this he threatened to call off the show but he didn鈥檛 reckon with the old Commanders鈥� persuasion. He, that is the Commander, got Carroll Gibbons to set the spotlights and the footlights, the stage was erected by the 鈥榮quaddies鈥�, the Pioneer boys, who did a wonderful job while joking and pretending they were at the theatre and giving impressions of all the comedians of the day. They worked their socks off. But some of the equipment sent down by Carroll Gibbons, by his own electricians was to say a bit antiquated, because they were a big joke as their men were going to do the wiring for this concert. But the worst bit was the sound equipment. I remember the old control box, it was like it was back in the earliest days of the 鈥�80鈥檚. On the night there was a thousand 鈥榮quaddies, 鈥榝rom the rank of Colonel-in-Chief, to the lads from the Pioneer Corp. It took place in the largest storehouse, the place as big as a football pitch. Ned was on the main spotlight and I was moving from one of the sidelights to the other side. The orchestra came on one by one taking their allotted places on the stage, then to our surprise it was the Jewish sergeant-major who was to be the MC for the night and he made a brilliant job of announcing the star, Carroll Gibbons, who not only led the band but played this lovely old grand piano, that he sent up from London. The band were terrific, and the big Jewish girl Anne Shelton, brought the house down when she performed, and there was two young 鈥榮quaddy鈥� comedians. In all it was good enough for any West End stage. The best was to come, the old Jewish sergeant major asked for a standing ovation for those taking part. Then he invited Carroll Gibbons, the bandleader, to say a few words. He thanked his band and Anne Shelton and the squad comedians, but saved his last compliment for old Ned and I, and how professional the work that old Ned and I had done.

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