My War 1938 - 1947 Part 1 of 8

This account is as accurate as I can make it, and all incidents recorded took place as related, without being amended by subsequent knowledge, or by trying to colour the actions of anybody mentioned in order to change the picture conveyed. All incidents are correct as far as my descriptions are concerned, but after more than sixty years I am not always sure as to the order in which they took place. Thus the year mentioned is always correct, but more than that I cannot confirm.

1938

I was 13 years old at the time of the Munich Pact, when Mr Chamberlain flew to Germany for a meeting with Adolph Hitler to discuss the question of the partition of Czecho-Slovakia. I remember the cinema newsreels showing his return to England, and him waving the document of the treaty, and announcing that it would give us “peace in our time”. I also remember that most people did not believe him, and from that moment we knew that war would come again. I stayed late at school that day (at Acklam Hall Secondary School, in Middlesbrough), and went into the Hall to hear him on the radio. I had spent the previous weekend wielding my father’s old garden spade, which I had brought to school in response to the Headmaster’s request, digging air-raid trenches in some strips of wood-land in the school grounds. I remember what hard work it was, and how proud I was of our efforts. All the pupils above the age of thirteen had to take part in this. But after a very few days there was a heavy shower, and all our work came to nothing as the trenches filled with water.

1939

So far as we were concerned things went along more or less as usual until the Spring of 1939, when the Germans annexed what was left of Czecho-Slovakia. We then knew that war was imminent, and we all felt that life was changing quickly.. There was a lot of talk about re-armament, and my brother Arthur, who was eighteen years old, joined the Territorial Army. He signed up for the Royal Corps of Signals, which seemed to me to be admirably prudent. At school we started having drill lessons to prepare us for whatever might come! These were arranged and co-ordinated by Mr Chapman, who was himself an officer in the Green Howards Territorial Army, assisted by several of the younger teachers. Then, on September 1st, the newspaper boys were out in the streets shouting that Germany had invaded Poland. I had arranged to go fishing on that day so I duly prepared all my tackle and set off for Redcar, where I bought some bait , established myself on a seat on the pier, and began to fish. Near me were some men talking and discussing the situation. From what they were saying I gathered that two submarines were at the mouth of the Tees, and I began to get a little nervous, when along the pier came a man I knew who joined me and started fishing with me. I do not remember fishing on Redcar pier again.

On Sunday, the third of September, the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, had announced that he would make a broadcast to the nation at 11.30 am. When he spoke, he told us that he had given Hitler an ultimatum that either the German forces must have ceased their invasion of Poland by eleven o’clock that morning, or a state of war would exist between Great Britain and Germany. He announced that no reply had been received to this, and that Great Britain and Germany were therefore in a state of war. Mother asked me to go round to my Grand Parent’s house, to make sure everything was all right, since they were away staying with my Uncle in Redcar. I duly set off on my bicycle, checked that all was well there, and left to return home.
.
On the way I met a friend of mine, Geoffrey Robinson, also on his way home on his bicycle, and in the company of one of his Uncles. We had to pass near St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church, and before we reached that point the air-raid sirens sounded, so I was glad to have the company of Geoff and his Uncle. As it turned out the warning signal was, we later heard, a nation wide practice, and nothing happened. However, without warning the doors of the Church flew open and out poured the congregation, shrieking “He’s coming! He’s coming!” as they ran for home. That was the only time I ever saw panic, and it was not a pretty sight.

That Autumn school did not open at the beginning of September, as was usually the case, so we had an extra few weeks holiday. When we did go back Mr Chapman had vanished, mobilised with his territorial battalion and in fact I did not see him again until well after the war had ended. During this free holiday I and Geoffrey Robinson went around all the Civil Defence organizations, seeking to enlist in any of them who would have us — usually as a messenger boy. Their response was depressingly monotonous: “Come back with your father’s written permission and we’ll see what we can do”. We knew better than to even mention the matter to our fathers, so we resigned ourselves to waiting to see what turned up. Of course, nothing did.

Arthur had gone on his first TA annual camp a week before war was declared, held under canvas at Scarborough, and he did not come home for a long time. When he did come I went down to watch them march in to the ‘camp’, ( which in fact was an old TA drill hall ), and even as a fourteen year old I could see how depressingly ill-equipped they were. At first Arthur was allowed to sleep at home, but after quite a short time they were posted to Darlington , where they stayed for a few weeks, billeted in a church hall, and sleeping on the floor. We visited him there, taking my Grandmother with us, and took him out for a meal. I saw little of him from then onwards.

1940

Some months after this, perhaps in early May, I was awakened one night in the small hours by my Mother. She woke me saying “Neil! Wake up! They’re here!” Outside there was a confused noise of explosions , so I jumped out of bed and followed her downstairs. The noise outside was getting louder all the time, but it was impossible for us to say what was causing it: anti-aircraft guns? Of course. Bombs? We did not know, but we could hear the roaring of the German planes
engines, and we feared the worst. During the raid we followed the Government’s instructions and made ourselves as comfortable as we could in the corner of our dining room, where several walls met, and where the resulting strength meant that we were safer than anywhere else in the house. The nearest bomb to us was several hundred yards away, where one of them hit and severely damaged a pair of semi-detached council houses. The occupants, so far as I remember, survived, thanks to the efficacy of their air-raid shelters.

One thing which impressed me very much was that I remembered being warm and comfortable in my bed when I was called, but by the time my feet touched the floor my pyjamas were wringing wet with sweat. I have never forgotten that. I suppose it was shock.

Since there had been an air-raid that night I did not have to go to school until ten-thirty that morning, when we boys all had our experiences to compare.

This was the first of many such raids, and after we began to get accustomed to them Dad arranged for Mother and I to go away to Harrogate for a week to have a rest from the constant broken nights. That was my only visit to Harrogate, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. We stayed at the Green Park Hotel, which was comfortable, and had good food. It was almost full of civil servants and their families, evacuated from London because of the war, and they on the whole seemed to be quite friendly. One thing we did enjoy was the lack of broken nights, The only aeroplane I remember seeing was a Whitley bomber, which by that time was too old-fashioned to be seriously considered by a fifteen year old. At the end of the week we got the train back to Middlesbrough and our old life of frequent, if not constant, air raids. This went on to the end of the year and beyond.

It was about this time that my Father joined the Home Guard, being issued with an arm-band bearing the letters LDV (Local Defence Volunteers), and because he did not own a gun of any sort, also an old double-barreled shot gun and five or six cartridges filled with deer shot. Thus armed he would take his turn patrolling the fields and lanes around Marton, ready to face heavily armed German parachute troops, if the need arose. Thank God it never did. Later his shot-gun was replaced with an old and worn out .303 service rifle, which again was replaced with a .300 American rifle and bayonet, which remained the standard Home Guard weapon until the end of the war.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.