大象传媒

Evacuation from London
by Joan Styan

During World War 2, my sister Margaret who was just 2, my brother Ken who was nearly 7, and me aged 9, lived at home with my mother in London when we were not evacuated. Like many volunteer housewives who had never worked in a factory before, mother worked at the Morgan Crucible Company which was then a munitions factory assembling radio parts for aeroplanes. This was part of the war effort which the government said was as important as being in the armed forces. She left home at 8am each morning and Ken, Margaret and I went to school part-time when we could. We spent much of the time in the school air raid shelter during air raids but at least we had our friends around us. We never went to school, or anywhere else for that matter, without our gas masks. We had gas mask drill at school. which taught us how to breath in our masks. I remember mine was kept in a tall, round yellow metal tin fastened to a long rope which I carried over my shoulder. It came in useful sometimes for me to swipe a bully who persistently tormented my younger brother. At the beginning of the war when my sister was only 2, she, like all the other young children was given a colourful Mickey Mouse gas mask which she was very proud of as he was her favourite cartoon character. When we said goodbye in the mornings, we never knew if we would see each other again at the end of the day which was a constant sadness to us all. My mother always said that if we had to die, please God let it be all together.

When we were evacuated on September 1st 1939, there were hundreds of trains packed with school children, mothers, teachers and disabled persons leaving London for unknown destinations. I can remember boarding one of these trains with my mother (whom we were very lucky to have with us), sister and brother having no idea whatsoever where we were going. The government kept this a complete secret from us all. To our amazement and excitement we suddenly found ourselves at the seaside resort of Brighton. What a thrill it was for us children to go to the sea! Evacuation was the largest social upheaval Britain had ever experienced. Middle class children found themselves billeted in labourer's cottages and East-Enders in middle class or aristocratic households. Some children had never even seen the sea, cows or chickens.

On the day war on Germany was declared, Sunday 3rd September 1939, I was out walking with my friend Audrey and her mother in Brighton. They had been evacuated with us. The air raid siren suddenly sounded and we desperately rushed to the nearest air raid shelter where we immediately put on our gas masks. We were absolutely terrified, as we had not experienced an air raid before. What an incredible relief it was when we discovered a little later that it was only a false alarm.

All I can remember about our Brighton evacuation at the beginning of the war was that on arrival we were dumped in a dirty, damp basement apartment with an elderly lady who was constantly coughing which my mother thought could be TB which was highly infectious. She immediately returned to the billeting offices and said: "If you don't find us something clean, I'm taking my 3 children straight back to London to the air raids." They said it was very difficult to find accommodation for 4 but eventually we were found a small place with a headmistress, Miss Lyford and her 2 simple maids. We were offered one small bedroom where we all slept with my mother, sister and I in one bed and my brother on a mattress on the floor. Despite the tremendous squeeze, my mother believed it was clean, and we were all together which was the most important thing to her and to us. The 2 simple maids were very willing but frightened me to death with their strange behaviour and appearance. I was a sensitive child of 9 and one of them, who was named Fanny, seemed to me to have huge, bulging eyes and spoke as if she had a plum in her mouth. Edith, the other maid, was dark, furtive and vacantly stared at me. My mother assured me that they did not mean any harm to us, so I then felt more secure. We later moved to more spacious accommodation around the comer.

The winter in Brighton was the severest for years with heavy falls of snow and as we lived on top of a hill, we spent a lot of time sledging and playing snowballs. Despite the freezing cold, my mother always insisted that fresh air was good for us and we were constantly taken for walks by the sea with her. The winds were biting which sometimes left us gasping for breath but it was very invigorating and we all thrived. I had only ever visited the seaside in summer before which was certainly very different. Perhaps it wasn't always as exciting to live by the sea as I thought.

We were in Brighton for only 9 months and returned to London because it was quiet and we were desperate to go home again. However, the Blitz of 1940 soon became apparent and we were thrust in at the beginning. We then had to accept part-time schooling but we were later pleased to hear that Ken had been selected with one other boy from his school to sit the Christs Hospital entrance examination.

Air Raids in London
by Joan Styan

We were utterly exhausted most of the time as we were continually confined to a communal air raid shelter at night, especially during the Blitz in 1940 and 1941. Strangely enough my brother Ken, sister Margaret and I experienced a mixture of fear from the bombs, together with the excitement of being able to stay up each night in the shelter with other families. With our mother we used to take our cheese sandwiches (which always seemed scrumptious) and Smiths crisps containing little blue bags of salt, together with a bottle of Tizer in the shelter and have midnight feasts with the other children which was exciting and alleviated some of the fear. We got very little sleep on our hard bunk beds, but no one did as we were usually woken up by the screaming, wailing air raid siren. We only had candles in the shelter so it was dimly lit and also damp and musty. The boy on the bunk below me, Sidney, complained that I was always dropping lumps of cheese from my sandwiches on to his bunk which he strongly objected to as he loathed cheese. Later in the war, sometimes at night when the air raid siren sounded, neighbours came along and bedded down in our hall. There was one man who always wore his tin helmet and Ken and I could never stop giggling about it. All the poor man was trying to do was to be prepared and to protect himself in an emergency but it was a huge joke to us. One night there was a bomb which exploded very near to us, the blast of which shattered a number of our windows. The heavy fanlight over the hall door became dislodged and was hanging on its side only a few feet from where Ken was sleeping. He had a lucky escape and may well have been glad to wear the man's tin helmet after all!

When the dreaded air raid siren sounded suddenly wafting through the air, screeching out its deafening high and low wailing, warning sounds, we were full of fear and trepidation. Wherever we were, we immediately stopped what we were doing, snatched up our few belongings if they were nearby and dashed to the nearest air raid shelter, wondering if we would ever come out alive. It was a nightmare for my mother having 3 young children to worry about all the time. There were 3 types of air raid shelter. Those which were concrete or brick-built and were outside for the public, the corrugated, galvanised iron Anderson shelter which was partially sunk in people's gardens away from the house, and the Morrison which was like a steel box indoors.

We lived through the London Blitz in 1940 and 1941 and many nights we went through hell with fires blazing and bombs raining down. The sky was continually lit by the glare of the fires, some of which were caused by incendiary bombs which had been extinguished by stirrup pumps. Air raid wardens were equipped with these for such an emergency. Also searchlights illuminated the sky. The wail of the air raid sirens and the drone of enemy aircraft, the bang bang of the anti-aircraft batteries and the shrill whistles blown by the Air raid wardens were deafening. Many people were left homeless and exhausted and often experienced long term shock. They used to pick their way through debris after a raid and had nowhere to go. Dazed families were accommodated in rest centres, in school buildings and church halls all of which were staffed by volunteers. However, despite all the adversity, people relentlessly soldiered on. We were all in it together and helped each other whenever we could. We had one thing in common and that was the will to survive which was all that mattered. Although tea, like almost everything else, was rationed, there were endless cups of tea to soothe shattered nerves.

Bombs continued to rain down, criss-crossing searchlights lit up the sky at night and the anti-aircraft fire was fearsome. Firemen and air raid wardens did what they could to protect the city. Large balloons appeared in the sky which were called barrage balloons. They were elongated, grey shapes like inflated elephants attached to thick wire ropes to trap unwary, low flying enemy aircraft. In 1942, all railings in front of houses and surrounding parks were removed for their metal to be used for ships and tanks. There were strict blackout precautions and windows were taped against damage from splintered glass and, on the ground floor of large buildings, windows and doorways were protected by walls of sandbags. Also, there was no street lighting or friendly lights from windows and we were forced to use torches. There were blackout curfews after dark, which caused many accidents, but the blackout was an air raid precaution and saved many lives. During the long, dark ,winter nights it was an absolute nightmare. We lived very near to Clapham Junction station, a major railway system, which was bombed continuously but despite the desolation it was like a cat and had 9 lives and managed to continue limping along.

Nothing was like the onslaught on London when they repeatedly dropped their tonnage of destruction and bombs fell incessantly resulting in relentless nights and days of terror and hell.

We Londoners bravely responded to the onslaught of London with defiant good humour. 'Jerry' (one of our nicknames for the Germans), 'will never get the last laugh over us.' was our taut reply, and they definitely did not. We were not labelled the 'Bulldog Breed' for nothing. We were in a permanent state of alert and were constantly living under a cloud of violent death but despite the ferocity of the relentless raids we survived even though utter exhaustion clung to us day and night.

There were many horrifying experiences but the noise of the VI flying bombs will haunt me forever. This was one of Hitler's secret weapons and was first launched in 1944. It was called a flying bomb, a doodlebug or a buzz bomb. It was essentially a pilotless plane packed with explosives whose rocket engine cut out over the target area so it glided to the ground and exploded. The gliding and cut-out mechanisms used were crude, but a large number still fell on London despite the fact that the RAF bombed some of the launching sites and also shot many down over the English Channel. Their engines made a distinct roaring sound which I shall never forget. One could hear them approaching from a distance and as the droning became louder and louder we were more terrified by the second. It was even more devastating when the noise stopped and there was an uncanny stillness whilst we held our breath. This I can remember so well. We had no option but to sit there helplessly in the shelter and pray whilst waiting for the noise to stop and a deathly silence prevailed. Were we destined to die that night? We were terrified if the engine cut out before it was overhead since that meant the flying bomb would glide and probably hit us. If it stopped directly overhead, we knew we were relatively safe, because it would continue for a couple of miles before crashing to the ground. Finally when it landed with an immense explosion, we all felt a great relief that it wasn't us this time, but a tremendous sadness for the poor victims that were involved.

Eventually the all-clear siren sounded which was a steady tone and the sweetest sound on earth. We were free again and dashed out of the shelter to see who the unfortunate victims were and if we could help them. There was utter chaos verywhere. Houses were completely demolished, others had walls that had collapsed with furniture leaning at bizarre angles from upstairs rooms. Glass was missing from all the windows, and even houses half a mile away from the blast had lost chimneys and tiles. Pavements were littered with tiles, glass and bricks. The slaughter created maximum terror with massive explosions resulting in shrapnel and debris falling all around us. It was pitiful what we repeatedly saw which we will never forget as there were so many sad and sickening sights. We lived near to the mainline railway station of Clapham Junction, a major German target, which was constantly attacked to disrupt the rail transportation system of the country. Ken and his friends spent a lot of time collecting shrapnel from exploded bombs which many boys did including Peter my husband. Ken also gathered wood from bomb-sites to make stilts and carts (to which he added wheels and an orange-box) and chopped some of it up to make little bundles which he sold for firewood.

My brother managed to avoid being hit by a doodle-bug when he couldn't get to a shelter in time after the air raid siren had sounded. He and his friend, who were in the street, saw it coming towards them and suddenly a man grabbed them from behind and flung them down on the pavement behind a wall. There was a tremendous explosion as it landed in the nearby cemetery with debris everywhere, he was terrified. Another time, he was in a swimming pool when the siren sounded and all the swimmers dashed upstairs to safety. There was a terrific explosion and the glass roof shattered and fell directly on to the pool. It was a miracle that they were not still in the pool. The bomb had fallen at the nearby Clapham Junction railway station and one of Ken's friends, who was helping in a local butcher's shop was killed. Ken immediately dashed home as we lived near the station and he was very worried about my mother, but despite the fact that she was in shock, fortunately she wasn't hurt.

My father was serving in the Royal Navy on the guns of HMS Warspite on convoys to Iceland and Russia. He experienced some bitter battles but when he came home on leave to see us in London, he always said that he would sooner be fighting for his country in the Navy than be poor helpless civilians like us just praying that we would be safe and being unable to do little to defend ourselves. All we had was faith and hope.

Unlike the doodle-bugs, the V2 rockets which came afterwards streaked stealthily across the sky without warning. There were no wailing air raid sirens to terrify us and although we were completely unprepared, we were spared the dreaded anticipation of another bombing raid. However, on reflection, it was better to be prepared as we could at least find a nearby air raid shelter for protection. Also when the all-clear siren was sounded we knew that we could probably safely carry on with our lives until the next air raid.

One V2 rocket experience which I can remember vividly was sitting in the local cinema with my friend Rita and like everyone else were completely absorbed in the film. Quite suddenly, a massive V2 rocket fell just behind the cinema and there was a huge blue flash from the screen which collapsed and the entire cinema was shrouded in choking, blinding smoke and debris. As it was a V2 rocket we had no warning and if it had been a few yards nearer, the cinema would have got a direct hit. The noise was deafening and was coupled with the screams from the audience in their shock and panic to escape. We all crowded to the emergency exits which were flung open and we eventually staggered out into the clean, fresh air. We were breathless from the choking smoke and also from blinding fear. Did I hear a voice in the distance calling "Joan", or was I dreaming? Yes, it was my mother's desperate voice screaming "Joan, Joan, where's my Joan." She knew that I had gone to the local cinema, the Granada, and heard the massive explosion. She dashed out of her house immediately and, to her horror, saw the cinema shrouded in smoke. As we lived nearby she didn't have far to run and finally found me amongst the devastation and confusion. The sense of relief was utterly indescribable.

However, we did get used to continual reprisals including the V2 rockets, as a familiar scene which we saw, when we walked to school each morning, was distraught residents in utter turmoil clawing at the wreckage of their homes which were destroyed the previous night and clutching their pathetic belongings but at least they were still alive.

Our neighbour, Mrs Greenaway, a quiet lady who had a husband who was on a night-shift at the Tate and Lyle sugar factory at Wandsworth, had a very sad experience. One night when he was at the factory, it was hit by a V2 rocket and everyone was killed. As this was a V2 rocket there was no air raid warning and his wife knew absolutely nothing about this until the next morning when she heard some women talking about it in the queue at the local butchers. They said that Tate and Lyle had had a direct hit in the night and she immediately dashed over there on the bus, a distance of about 2 miles, only to find that it had been completely demolished. She staggered about desperately on the rubble until a policeman came over to her and asked her what she was doing. She explained that she was looking for her husband and was told that tragically there were no survivors. She was so helpless and, in utter shock, blindly found her way home. She must have been completely overwrought which resulted in her immediately gassing herself without even stopping to think about it. Her 12 year old daughter Joan discovered her body on returning home from school that day. Sadly when she left for school in the morning, she thought that both her parents were alive. Poor distraught Joan had no alternative but to go and live with her devastated grandparents. This was one of the many tragic statistics of the war. Another one was when I was at school and my art teacher, Mr Carpenter, went home for lunch one day which he did regularly, only to find that his house had been bombed and his wife and young son had been killed. Such was the misery of war.

Huge crowds sought safety and invaded the London Underground every night having claimed an early pitch in the afternoon. They slept with their clothes on, clutching family documents including their identity cards and personal treasures. The Underground at night was a massive picnic with rows of men, women and children all huddled together eating and drinking tea and soft drinks. The air was always stale and there was often a stench of smoke and brick dust in the air which was frequented by mosquitoes. Apart from this however, my mother strongly objected to sleeping in the Underground for fear of being trapped. In the Underground station at Balham which was a few miles from Clapham Junction, over 600 people were killed and maimed from a bomb and some were suffocated in their panic and struggle to get out.

Although London was continually bombed day and night and all we ever heard was people saying: "Poor old London copped it again last night. ", other large cities suffered too but not so relentlessly. Nevertheless I was a Londoner and was proud of the spirit that pervaded the city day and night. In those dark days people determinedly got on with life despite the continuous doom and gloom. Life was grim and heartbreaking and the hardship was extremely severe. Despite Hitler's obsession to ultimately invade Great Britain which was only 22 miles across the Channel, it didn't materialise. How different our lives would have been today if the Germans had succeeded in invading our island.

There were horrendous battles on land, sea and in the air and our losses were disastrous, but despite the terrible degradation, we triumphed against all the odds. I can remember us all anxiously crowding around our radios each night when we could, to listen to the news bulletins at 9.pm on the 大象传媒 Home Service which constantly kept us in touch although, most of the time, the news was unnervingly daunting. Sir Winston Churchill was our great inspiration and we all anxiously awaited his stirring broadcasts to the nation.

Entertainment in Wartime London
by Joan Styan

Music, radio, dancing and films all helped to make wartime hardships easier. I can well remember going to the Gaumont cinema in Chelsea when I was 15 with my mother to see the film 'Brief Encounter' just after the war. She came out of the cinema in tears and all she could say was "What a wonderful film.". Rarely had I seen her display such emotion. We also saw the unforgetable film 'In Which We Serve' by Noel Coward which was riveting. As my father was serving in the Navy during the war this film was very close to our hearts. 'Gone With The Wind' which was American, was another incredible wartime favourite which I saw in Piccadilly. Cinemas had a resident organ which rose up in front of the screen. The organist played all our favourite wartime songs and music which was very entertaining and relaxed us whilst we were all cocooned in the relative safety and warmth of the cinema. However, this was not so when a V2 rocket came over in 1944 without warning and almost hit the cinema I was in.

The factories played 'Music While You Work' which was broadcast on the radio every morning at 11 o'clock. This was most uplifting for the workers and many sang along with it. The song 'White Christmas' sung by Bing Crosby and written by Irving Berlin in 1942 sold thousands of 78 RPM records and was the all time Christmas favourite. Vera Lynn, the Forces Sweetheart, who was our most popular wartime singer, endlessly entertained us and the troops fighting abroad with her very emotional songs. 'The White Cliffs Of Dover' will never be the same sung by anyone else. The famous London song 'A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square' was also extremely popular and I still play this on the piano. Gracie Fields escaped to safer climes but George Formby constantly kept up morale with his cheerful lyrics and famous ukulele. Today, my daughter Linda is a great fan of his and belongs to The Ukulele Society of Great Britain. She spends an hour or two each day practising on her ukulele performing with her band playing her ukulele and singing at various venues.

The big bands filled the London dance halls and they were great meeting places and a lot of fun. The American servicemen also frequented them and they were labelled 'overpaid, oversexed and over here'. I was just too young to join in. However, after the war I did go with my friends every Saturday night and danced to the big bands, Joe Loss being one of the favourites. He was resident at the Hammersmith Palais where we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Also there were the Henry Wood Promenade concerts at the Albert Hall during the war which were well attended particularly if Dame Myra Hess was performing. She was noted for her lunchtime recitals in London. The Windmill theatre was also famous for never having closed in the Blitz.

The radio was a huge morale booster during the war except of course for devastating news bulletins. There was Children's Hour daily at 5. 15pm on the Home Service with 'Uncle Mac'. He seemed liked a real uncle to every child listener; he was so popular. Then there was Larry the Lamb and Dennis the Dachshund in Toytown. Such sweet programmes which have now faded into oblivion.

The highlight of the week was the great comedy hit 'ITMA' (It's That Man Again) every Thursday evening with Tommy Handley. There was Mrs Mop, the cleaner, with her famous catchphrase 'Can I do you now Sir?' and amongst others, Colonel Chinstrap who was always the worse for drink. as he endeavoured to produce the words: 'I don't mind if I do' in response to nearly every question. ITMA was a great British comedy that lifted the spirits of the Homefront. There was no time for air-raids when ITMA was broadcast! 'The Brains Trust' was another favourite on the Home Service. Then there was the Forces programme for the troops presented by Vera Lynn, the Forces Sweetheart. 'We'll Meet Again' was her famous and
emotional signature tune. With no television broadcasts the radio was our inspiration in those dark days of little hope.

Wartime Hardships
by Joan Styan

Once when I was shopping for my grandma, I bought some soap powder which she wanted and which was rationed. It was a box of Oxydol. The shop assistant forgot to tick off the back page of my grandma's ration book confirming that she had had her soap powder quota for the month. I then went back to the shop and told the assistant of her omission and she immediately rectified it and ticked it off. My grandma thought I was quite mad and said "You silly girl. If you hadn't taken my ration book back, I could have had an extra box of soap powder." I was upset about this as I was always taught to be honest and thought I was doing the right thing. However, rationing was hard and we were so often deprived that we were all glad of any perks that came our way.

We were only allowed 5 inches of bath water per family once a week so we had to share the same bath water. Also only 1 toilet roll was allowed per family per week. Coal was almost non-existent and we were officially only allowed 1 gas-ring for cooking dinner.

We were constantly being told to dig for victory and many had allotments and vegetable gardens and there were even plots in town parks and schools including mine. Also Pig Clubs were encouraged and Peter, my husband, was a member of his Hampton Grammar School club. One fateful Sunday when it was his turn to feed the pigs, he discovered, to his horror that the gate of the pigsty had been left unlocked and all the pigs had fled. After much searching, he finally caught up with them after cycling around the school fields and managed patiently to shepherd them back to the sty. They were actually next to a gate leading on to the road. He was so relieved as he would have been held responsible for their loss. The pigs, when fattened up were consigned to a butcher for conversion to bacon and pork joints which were sold to the pupils of the school on behalf of their parents.

Clothes rationing was difficult and we wore clothes with the 'Utility' symbol sewn inside signifying that they were basic, serviceable and good value but I must say they looked very drab. Fortunately my mother made our clothes whenever she could. Skirts were shorter and even men's trouser turn-ups were sacrificed to save material. There were no nylon stockings only rayon and lisle and many of the older girls coloured their legs with tan cream or gravy browning and just prayed that it didn't rain. A friend would draw a seam down the back with an eyebrow pencil. The only nylons that were available were on the 'blackmarket' which was illicit trading at an exorbitant price, and also from the Americans, if the girls were lucky! My mother often used the word 'serviceable' to describe any clothing I had bought which I hated as it was just another way of saying 鈥楿tility'. She religiously neatly darned our socks and stockings like everyone else did during the war years. One day, much later, in peacetime, she was trying on some shoes in Clapham Junction when the young assistant asked her what was the mark on the heel of her stocking? She had never seen a darn before. Mum was a fantastic knitter and created many warm garments. We spent a lot of time knitting for the armed forces, I have never knitted so many scarves. However, at my age they were much easier to knit than gloves. We also knitted squares and sewed them together for blankets. Even boys. including Peter and my brother Ken did their bit.

Friday night was called 'Amami鈥� night because we washed our hair with a shampoo made by Amami which you can still buy today. This resulted in us staying in as it took a long time to dry especially if we had long hair as I did, because we had no hair dryers and always had to towel dry it. We never even had hot water until we heated it in kettles or saucepans. 'I'm staying in to wash my hair' became the standard excuse if we didn't want to go out with a boyfriend. Bath toiletries and soap were very difficult to obtain. Only coloured bath salts were available which my mother said were coloured soda crystals so she bought boxes of pure white soda to soften the bath water because it was much cheaper. Yellow 'Sunlight' soap was used for washing clothes by hand as there were no washing machines, let alone dryers, and red 'Lifebuoy' which contained some disinfectant, was our toilet soap. I cherished a little bottle of cheap perfume called 'Evening In Paris' which was in a deep blue bottle and the aroma was quite pungent. I really treasured it and kept it for special occasions, even though I had only bought it from Woolworths. 'Californian Poppy' was also another of my favourites.

Wartime Food
by Joan Styan

We ate basic foods at the British Restaurants which we were told 'nourished the masses'. These restaurants offered simple meals such as minced beef with parsnips, greens and potatoes. Minced meat was sold at the butchers when available but my mother was always dubious about its content. Spam from the U.S.A. was in common use to make up for the shortage of fresh meat. We normally ate at home enjoying our mother's nutritious cooking. She was obsessed with making us eat all our vegetables especially our greens. During the war, any leftovers from meals were kept for the next day. We often had 'bubble and squeak', a British term for cooked greens and cooked potatoes mixed and fried up. My mother made this on a Monday if there were any leftovers from our Sunday dinner. Fruit was almost non- existent except for apples which were home grown. The saying: 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away.' may well have originated during the war. We never saw bananas or oranges. All children were allocated milk, cod-liver oil and orange juice. We often had to resort to dried milk (sold in blue tins), dried eggs (sold in red tins) and dried potatoes.

My mother tried so hard to keep us children nourished to the extent that she regularly denied herself. Tinned fruit was also rationed as were fish, cereals and biscuits etc. At least home-grown vegetables were encouraged by the 'Dig For Victory' campaign. Rationing began in 1940 including sweets which was a real blow to us children.

Mum readily exchanged her tea coupons from her ration book for sugar coupons with a neighbour as she was in greater need of sugar than tea with 3 young children. Butter and bacon were severely rationed and we constantly used margarine, the taste of which revolted me and still does even today. I'm definitely one of the few that can tell Stork from butter! We were allowed 1 egg each per fortnight. The rich were hit the same as the poor and, whatever we wanted, we had to queue for. Queue, queue, queue. What patience and stamina we must have had. However, we were so grateful for anything and everything we could get. The standard phrase from the customer to the shop assistant was: "Is there anything under the counter?". We were only allowed 2 ounces of butter each week so we often had bread and dripping or condensed milk on our bread. The hardships seemed endless.

Christmas in Wartime
by Joan Styan

Christmas in wartime was terribly stark and austere. However, we did have our pianos, violins and other instruments including an harmonica which my father played so well. Pianos were very popular and many had sing-songs in their houses and lots of the war songs such as 'Roll Out The Barrel', 'Run Rabbit Run' and 'Lili Marlene' were very popular. It was sad that no church or carol singer's bells were allowed to be sounded as they may have been confused with air raid sirens. I must say that to this day, we still have our musical Christmases. My daughter Linda who trained at The Guildhall School of Music and Drama, sings and plays her ukulele; my husband Peter plays his guitar and the piano and my other daughter Nicola plays her violin as she did in orchestras. I also play the piano so our mothers really looked forward to spending musical Christmases with us.

Getting back to Christmas in wartime, sadly our few nuts and oranges vanished from the toes of our Christmas stockings that we hung up in peacetime with so much excitement. Christmas just wasn't the same without them. Christmas fare was very limited as turkeys and chickens were mainly to be found on the 'blackmarket鈥�. We had roast beef if we were lucky. Also our mother made Christmas puddings with carrots which replaced dried fruit, as this was unobtainable during the war. However, we were always grateful for anything she made. Christmas trees were non-existent and the only decorations we had were coloured homemade paper chains which we stuck together with flour-and-water paste. There was always great excitement when we made them.

I remember walking past a sweet-shop one day and seeing to my surprise and sheer delight a small box of Cadbury鈥檚 'Milk Tray' chocolates in the window which were almost non-existent during the war. As I desperately wanted to give these to my mother for Christmas, I just couldn't wait to dash inside the shop only to be told by the shopkeeper that it was a dummy box and not for sale. The intense disappointment and sadness I felt over this was overwhelming. It certainly seems utterly ridiculous to us today but at the time, it really meant so much to me to give my mother a box of chocolates for Christmas. All chocolates and sweets were rationed anyway so I had to select a few from my sparse ration and give them to her in a paper bag. We were also very lucky if we were given any toys. If we were, they were mostly second-hand as the toy factories had been taken over for munitions. Second-hand toys were advertised in the newspapers for sale. All our fireplaces were empty as there was no coal available. As we were continually cold, we went to bed early between air raids. We always wore our coats indoors in the winter but were often still cold. However, we were lucky to have survived another year of the war.

During the year we lived in fear which wasn鈥檛 short of traumas. I had a lucky escape in the cinema when a V2 rocket crashed down without warning nearby. We also had the dreadful news that my teenage cousin Bobby, who lived in Colchester with Auntie Lily and my other cousins was missing believed drowned while serving in the Navy. So despite all the fear, together with these sad things that had happened. we saw yet another Christmas and were lucky to be safe and sound and altogether especially as my father managed to get home on leave from the Navy. Everyone鈥檚 hopes and dreams were relying on the New Year when we were desperately hoping that it would bring peace and freedom.

One afternoon at Christmas, my sister Margaret and I took my grandma鈥檚 little puppy dog Peggy, who was a black spaniel, for a walk on Wandsworth Common. Margaret said: 鈥滾et the poor little thing off the lead for a run." After some consideration I did this to please the puppy and Peggy ran straight off into a football crowd. In vain 1 ran about trying to find her but she was nowhere to be seen. It was getting dark and I was really panicky, visualising that the poor dog was suffering too having lost us. I had no option but to go to my grandmother's house and tell her that I had lost her precious Peggy. She was naturally devastated and said: "You go back and find her immediately. I finally crept home in floods of tears to tell my mother who was furious with me for being so irresponsible. I lay in bed that night sobbing, not so much because my grandmother and mother were cross with me but because I just couldn't bear the thought of the poor, helpless little dog alone in the dark with the screech of the air raid sirens and bombs dropping everywhere. I was completely alone in my sadness with no one to comfort me. How many times did I return to the common? So very many. Day turned into night and night into day and, despite my continual return to the scene, she was never heard of again. For weeks I cried myself to sleep. To this day I have never forgotten this very sad experience. However, my grandmother and mother finally accepted the situation and forgave me but my grandmother never trusted me with any of her dogs again.

Another little story when the air raids were at their peak. Margaret who was 4, took another little girl June aged 3 to the common unbeknown to our mother. When they were discovered missing, we desperately searched high and low for them. We were distraught, including June's mother, but eventually we found them on the swings in the playground on Wandsworth Common which was some distance from where we lived. They had also wheeled their dollies' prams all the way there and my mother said: "However did you get across the busy main road?" Margaret said: "A nice, kind man took us over", which certainly would be risky these days. It seems that they had a lucky escape. Consequently Margaret was reprimanded and never did it again.

Second Evacuation (to Kettering) and Return to London
by Joan Styan

No one believed in their wildest dreams that the war would continue for 6 long weary years. However, after a while my young sister suddenly became very fearful and hysterical every time the air raid siren sounded so my mother had to consider evacuation again. Unfortunately this would result in even more disruption in our education.

So we packed up once again (which wasn't easy without the use of a car and having to rely on public transport) and went to my Auntie Lily and cousins in Colchester to escape from the London bombing. We had only been there for a few weeks when school children were suddenly being evacuated from Colchester to Kettering in Northamptonshire. We then went with them together with my Auntie Lily and cousins Norah, who was always by her side, Essie, Danny and Pat. Mrs Hinnells and her family who lived across the road came too.

On arrival there was total confusion just as there was on our first evacuation to Brighton at the beginning of the war. Finally my mother, brother Ken and sister Margaret and I were billeted with an elderly gentleman, Mr Croxton and his dour, gangly, fussy old housekeeper, Kitty, who made our lives an utter misery. However, looking at it from their point of view, their precious house was to them a palace, so to have a mother and 3 children descend upon them invading their privacy and serene little existence was somewhat traumatic but they should at least have had some compassion for us. After all we were really the unfortunate ones who had to leave our homes, schools and familiar surroundings which completely disrupted our lives but Kitty had no compassion for our predicament whatsoever. Also, people in the Midlands had the strange idea that all Londoners were rough. How wrong could they be?

Mr Croxton and Kitty were fortunate to have a mother accompanying her children anyway as many young evacuees were billeted on their own. My mother was highly disciplined and we were brought up to be obedient. We could never do anything right when Kitty was around and it was a nightmare for my mother to have to share the kitchen with her as Kitty just didn't want to compromise or share anything. My mother desperately tried to fit in and keep us children out of sight which was quite difficult. They just didn't want us there and made it very obvious. Kitty was nothing short of a dragon! One day Mr Croxton was sitting in his chair and could see the end of his garden through the reflection of the glass in a picture hanging on the opposite wall in his dining room. Whilst sitting there he happened to see from the reflection my brother climbing one of the trees in his garden and scrumping his apples which they had never offered to us. Needless to say Ken, a studious boy, was in severe trouble. This gave Kitty the excuse to become even more obnoxious. After a while it became impossible to live there so my mother went to the billeting office once again requesting that we be relocated. They said it was extremely difficult to find accommodation for a mother and 3 children so we had no choice but to move into 3 separate houses.

I was lucky to live in a comfortable house with a girl named Jean Richardson who was my age (12) and lived with her parents. Jean was somewhat spoilt but we had a lot in common including our piano practise and we often had midnight feasts; she was great fun. When I finally left to return home to London, she bought me a piece of music, 'Salut D'Amour' by Sir Edward Elgar, as a parting present. To this day I still have it. My brother lived next door with a pleasant family called the Baileys and my young sister and mother were billeted with the same family's elderly parents around the corner who were in bed by 9 o'clock each night. My mother was expected to do the same. I actually went to bed later than my mother which was amusing. I used to see her and my sister Margaret sitting up at their bedroom window while I was out playing. I learnt to roller-skate in Kettering with many friends in the road and I also learnt to swim in an open air pool in their famous Wicksteed Park. Mr Wicksteed was the benefactor who provided numerous equipment for children's playgrounds including swings, slides, roundabouts etc., all over the country. During the war there was an imprint of a German parachutist who had landed in the park which was a source of much intrigue to the children and adults alike. The winter was bitterly cold in Kettering with a lot of snow and my brother and I earned pocket money sweeping the drives of houses. We also had a lot of fun sledging and playing snowballs with our friends. Whilst we were in Kettering, my brother received a telegram from my father who had been invalided out of the Navy and was again working at the Admiralty in London and living at home. It said: 鈥淐ongratulations Kenny boy, you've won a scholarship.". Needless to say, we were all thrilled.

I attended Kettering Grammar School and I remember struggling with French as my London school was not so advanced in the language but I did excel in maths as we were ahead in London. I quite enjoyed my schooling there. One day when walking back home with a friend, we saw a crowd gathering on the other side of the road. We thought it was an accident and my friend insisted on running over to see what the commotion was about. I hated accidents so I didn't go with her. Anyway, she soon came rushing back to tell me that my brother had been knocked down and was lying on the pavement. I was panic stricken and went over there immediately but fortunately local first aid was all that was required which was a great relief. Apparently he had been knocked down by a bicycle and the mudguard was bent over his leg. After a while he recovered but at the time he looked lifeless.

Auntie Lily was my mother's sister and they were always close. However, my Auntie and cousins only stayed in Kettering for 6 weeks as they wanted to get back to Colchester. Unfortunately we could not return to London because of the impending air raids. Auntie Lily had a strange experience on the platform when waiting to catch the train back to Colchester with her children. There was a woman on the platform with a 2-seater pram who was absolutely desperate to get back to London away from Kettering but she didn't have the full fare. She said to my aunt: "You can have this pram if you give me 2 shillings to make up my full fare to London." Auntie Lily who was always kind immediately gave her the 2 shillings and couldn't believe her luck as it was a lovely pram. She straight away put my 2 little cousins Danny and Pat into the pram, together with blankets and other luggage, and with Norah and Essie by her side, they all happily returned home to Colchester.

My mother helped out at the local infants school and took a class of 5-year olds whenever the teacher was absent. My sister, who was in her class took full advantage of it and tried to play her up at every opportunity. My mother did not stand any nonsense and Margaret was given no favouritism. Our life in Kettering was quite tranquil and my mother and Margaret were reasonably happy in their accommodation under the circumstances and so was Ken. However, the one thing we did not like was the frugal way some of them lived. We were given very sparse meals and were often hungry which was a lot different from the meals my mother served. Despite all the adversity in London, she always managed to feed us well even to the point of denying herself which she did frequently. One of my cousins. Essie, in Kettering was given sheep's brains for dinner which revolted her. Both families where my mother and brother were billeted attended church 3 times on a Sunday. Their entire day was devoted to going to church. In London we only went once, to Sunday school.

After a year or so in 1943, London became quieter and we decided to chance our luck and return to our home so we could all be together again with our father who was now working again at the Admiralty. Yes, we'd done it again.! We had only been back a two weeks when the doodle-bugs started. Our timing was diabolical. We had now been evacuated twice which hadn't helped us very much as London always seemed to be quieter when we were away. Not only did we suffer the doodle-bugs, we later had to endure the V2 rockets. As previously mentioned, there were no warning signals given for the V2 rockets which claimed many victims. Apart from the fact that I had a near miss in the Granada cinema, another of our local cinemas was hit on Lavender Hill. I can remember many children queuing outside for their Saturday morning film show when they had a direct hit from a rocket. A friend of mine who was in the library opposite said the screams were unbearable. Another rocket hit Woolworths in New Cross one Saturday afternoon at the peak shopping time which claimed the lives of over 100 women and children. Another killed over 100 in busy Smithfield Market where there were also many injuries. Also I remember the night when the Crystal Palace was bombed and the whole of the sky was blood red for miles around.

Victory Celebrations and Epilogue
by Joan Styan

So despite all the adversity and disaster, we conquered over evil and were triumphant in the end and finally the glorious day came when the war was declared over. The incredible release from fear and pain had at last encompassed us and can only be described fully by those who experienced it. There was just sheer unadulterated jubilation with no order whatsoever despite the conspicuous absence of many alcoholic drinks. The masses were more intoxicated with Victory than with alcohol!

VE Day was officially declared on the 9th of May 1945 but the war in Europe was definitely over on that magic night before when London surged into life. My mother said to me: "Let's go to the West End Joan and join in the celebrations." So we jumped on a train from our nearby Clapham Junction station to Victoria and were astounded to see such huge, swirling crowds. We tried desperately to make our way to Buckingham Palace and staggered shoulder to shoulder with the crowds. What an incredible sight. A wave of humanity confronted us. Impassioned emotions would never be as high again. London was aflame with human exhilaration. Bonfires blazed continuously over London and the sky was alight with the glow of victory. No more suffering and hardship; peace had finally descended upon us and everybody was at one with each other regardless of race, creed and status. Survival and freedom were all that mattered. We had waited so very long for this and in our wildest dreams had never envisaged a night like this.

Mum and I finally reached Buckingham Palace with much effort and laughter and joined in the masses converging on the Palace and celebrating outside. Hundreds of people all waving flags were crowding in front of the Palace and drifting in from Piccadilly and Regents Street and thronging down the Mall. They sang their hearts out with many of the war songs particularly the Vera Lynn favourites and London was deafened once again not from the bombs and artillery fire, but from the depths of human feeling in utter, utter relief that their beloved city of London which had endured so much was free. Dear old London; this was its finest hour. Fireworks streaked through the sky instead of searchlights and bombers. The pent up spirits of the long, weary war burst out and the whole of London was ablaze with celebration.

No more suffering; peace at last; survival and freedom were all that mattered. London was submerged in jubilation and screams of relief from humanity. People climbed on anything they could, statues, buildings, cars etc., and every lamp-post was scaled. Noisy dustbin lids were banged and the hysterical crowds were totally beyond any order. Nothing mattered only freedom. The ultimate heights of pent up human emotion were as they had never been and will probably never be again.

I was 15, and, as mentioned earlier, was deeply embedded with my mother in those swirling masses outside the Palace. The royal family together with Sir Winston Churchill came out on to the balcony of Buckingham Palace many times joining in all the jubilation and joy looking utterly exhilarated and thoroughly overwhelmed as we all were in that incredible atmosphere. Actually this particular scene has been shown on television a number of times but needless to say I could not possibly identify my mother and I from the huge, stifling crowds.. Unbeknown to any of the public, the 2 princesses were allowed to come down from the balcony incognito and mingle with the crowds. It seems that they were there for some time but were never recognised. They too were caught up in the magic of this unique night as we all were. Their cherished city of London had survived and would never, ever be the same again. Only recently the queen was asked on television for her most outstanding memory. She immediately replied that this was the VE night celebration in London on May 8th 1945!

My mother and I, like everyone else, were completely oblivious of time but finally we wrenched ourselves from the celebrations and managed to stagger back and be carried along by the crowds to Victoria station, only to discover that the last train to Clapham Junction had departed. We just laughed and laughed like everyone else did and finally jumped on to the mail train and squeezed into the guard's van with dozens of others. We all thought it a huge joke. However, when the train stopped at Clapham Junction station, we found that the door was locked on the side where we had to alight. I can remember this as though it were yesterday. Despite much searching by the guards, no key was found to unlock it, so they lifted us out through the windows of the train midst shrieks of laughter. We were all quite mad but it was great fun. No one cared a damn for law and order and we all thought it hilarious. Nothing mattered only that we had survived and lived through it all. No words can ever really describe fully the intense feelings of relief on that night of celebration and jubilation and the experience will be with me for ever.

On VE Day and many weeks after that there were street parties for children all over the country. Rarely had this country seen so much joy and excitement. Victory over Japan was celebrated on VJ Day, August 14th 1945, but it was a very poor shadow of the VE Day celebration. Germany was our real enemy who had forced us down the air raid shelters and made our lives a living hell and threatened us with invasion as they were only 22 miles from our shores. I was in Felixstowe on holiday with my family and Auntie Lily and cousins from Colchester when VJ Day was celebrated and they gave us an exciting children's party. Trestle tables were threaded through the streets as they were in the celebrations of VE Day and this happened in all the towns and villages. Once again, the country was enjoying one massive party. However, long after the war, although all the fear had gone and we were free again there was still a serious shortage of food. This included bread rationing together with coal, electricity and gas etc.

After 6 long years of fear and sacrifice we were at last totally free. I was so proud of my mother who was at our side the whole time. She always tried to be cheerful in adversity and I can remember her constantly singing while she did her housework. My brother, sister and I were protected by her whenever we could be and she always put us before herself. She endured all the traumas of the air raids and the deprivation of the war, together with the upheaval of leaving our home to be with us during evacuation and having to compromise with the inconvenience and frustration of living in other people's homes. This was a big sacrifice for my mother but as long as we were all together this was the most important thing to her. She was a pillar of strength at all times and without her constantly by our side, we would have felt much more fearful. Even though I was the eldest and had more responsibility than my brother and sister and had to try to set an example, mum was always there for us. We were her life and she was ours. She was highly disciplined and sometimes strict during our childhood but always very caring. She was a remarkable mother who possessed great fortitude, courage and determination. During World War 1 she was awarded 2 certificates from her school in Ipswich for being the most outstanding pupil in 1916 and 1917. Photocopies of these are deposited in the Suffolk County Council Records Office. She was a big influence on my life which will never be quite the same without her. She sadly died on Christmas Day 1989. My daughter Nicola was also born on a Christmas Day.

I saw much suffering during the war which made me compassionate to others who were less fortunate. I learnt to be appreciative and to be philosophical and to have courage and endurance in adversity. As children, even in peacetime, we were taught always to be grateful and the war certainly highlighted this. So after 6 long weary years of constant pain and suffering day and night, an aura of harmony descended upon us all, together with a peace that passes all understanding. We were finally FREE!

After so much suffering and anguish for nearly 6 long, weary years, with no release from fear, it was like continually living on the edge of a precipice. Many times we reached the zenith of fear when there was hardly a glimmer of light pervading our darkness. No wonder London was aflame with human exhilaration and highly impassioned emotions on that magic night of the 8th May 1945 when the war against Germany was finally declared over and the unbearable heartache had at last ceased.

Britain was unconquerable, despite the fact that Germany had subjected London to an ordeal which no other modern city had ever survived. It had been tested to its limits and brought out the finest virtues that human nature can ever display, which 1 fully experienced so many times. Almost every man, woman and child were affected on different levels by the havoc and misery of this war on our beleaguered island, and, when all the memories fade and finally disappear, there will only be the records remaining in the history books. The fight for human life and horrific suffering of this senseless and futile war should never ever again be repeated. The human sacrifice cannot be fully described as it may never be completely understood or identified with, but the unforgettable memories of war-torn London will remain with me for ever.