The War Years - Evacuated to Gran Davies鈥檚 Farm in Wales
I was born in May 1938 and the war began in 1939. The Battle for Britain did not begin until a year later from the March to September I believe. The Blitz began after the failure of the Germans to annihilate the R.A.F. We lived two streets away from Dunlop Aviation that manufactured components for the aircraft for the Royal Air Force. Coventry was a manufacturing town so perhaps this is why we came in for such bombing. I was evacuated at about two years of age and stayed until I was about 4 years of age to my Grandmother who had a small farm in Wales near Carmarthen. The farm was painted pink during the war not to be so noticeable. In peacetime they were whitewashed pure white and the countryside was littered with little white farmhouses.
I have been told that when Gran and I were in the meadow behind the farmhouse where the horse was kept, a solitary aeroplane flew low over the meadow. I screamed hysterically and lay down in the muddy meadow and demanded my Gran did the same. I was frightened of the bombs apparently. It was probably a friendly R.A.F. aircraft but Gran had to lie down in the mud until the engines did not sound anymore. Poor Gran she probably had to go into the kitchen to wash and change us both but I had saved her life! She was amused by the incident. They rarely had aeroplanes flying over there at all! The only thing farmers were expected to do was to keep sheep, cows, and goats, grow hay, barley, and corn 鈥 anything to help the nation have food. The German submarines lay in wait for the Merchant Navy bringing imports into the country and torpedoed them. Perhaps they hoped they would starve Britain into submission.
When I returned to Coventry in 1942 to start school during 1943, there was one occasion when the sirens sounded (what an awful, dreaded sound that was), mother dressed me in my warm navy blue siren suit with a hood and which zipped up. It was made of pure wool and extremely cosy. We would run up the dark street as no lights were lit during Wartime, to find safety in the Public Air Raid Shelter. Even the houses had blackout material at the windows before the curtains were drawn shut and the Air Raid Warden would walk up the street and knock on your door if a chink of light peeped through a crack! Anyway, we had just left the front gate and we heard an enemy plane, machine gun bullets were blazing away and mum pushed me against the neighbour鈥檚 front wall. She fell onto me heavily, and we lay there until it had passed over. I literally, had my breath squeezed out of my body. Mum then told me why she had to shove me down so violently. She wanted to save my life even though she risked being shot!
I remember that next door but one, two houses were bombed to total rubble. After the war when I was eight years of age, Barry and I were digging in the rubble and found a brass looking object, which we carried to show my father. It was an incendiary bomb, which used to cause fires! Barry carried one end and myself the other end. We stepped carefully over the bricks and went into the entry. Dad came to the bottom of our garden and saw us with the bomb! 鈥淪tand still鈥, he shouted, 鈥淚 want you to put that thing you are carrying down very, very slowly. Now lay it on the floor very gently, and step away from it and walk to me slowly鈥. We realised the urgency in his voice. We behaved impeccably. When we reached his side, he told us it was a bomb! 鈥淣ow, do not go near it, but if someone comes down the entry tell them to keep away from it and that your Dad has gone to telephone the Police鈥. About 25 minutes later, a Bobby as we used to call the policemen then, they wore high helmets in those days, came cycling up on his bicycle and picked it up and held it in one hand as he steered his bicycle with the other and took it to the Police Station! He said that he would call the Bomb Squad to dismantle the fuse.
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