A Fashion Conscious Teenager in WW2

When the Second World War started in September 1945, I was 14 years old and already working in a stationers shop. At first the war didn’t affect me very much although I had to carry a gas mask and identity card. My parents had to buy black out curtains to insure that no chinks of light were visible from outside, if they were, the air raid warden would knock very loudly at the door. Even the street lights would have to be turned off, so when I got the bus to work, I had to rely on the conductors to call out the stops, because as well as the lights all being out, the windows were covered with netting stuck fast to prevent them from shattering in the event of an air raid.
When the air raids started, I was barely home before the sounds of gunfire began. This was quite scary, as after I got off at my bus stop, I had to walk across an area of wasteland- although my father was always there to greet me, no matter what the weather or how heavy the air-raid. As the air raids occurred every night from dusk until dawn, we spent the night in our Anderson shelter,
Which was constructed of corrugated metal, half of which was dug into the ground. Although my father had made the shelter as comfortable, with bunk beds etc, it still didn’t stop it getting extremely cold in the winter. However we were lucky to have this piece of shelter, as we were bombed out and the house next door was demolished, and as well as that there were several fires caused by the incendiary bombs.
We had firemen to come and help us out of the shelter, and to lead us to a brick shelter where we stayed until morning when we were taken to the local church hall. From the church hall, we were taken in a lorry to houses where some people had offered to take us in. My sister and myself went to one home when the owners made it quite obvious that the didn’t want us there, and my father and mother and youngest brother went to another home, but we soon moved as my father didn’t like us to be separated. This time we stayed with an aunt who was very kind to us, my father went on to find an old building; vacant because the previous occupants had moved to a safer area. I hated this house, it was in a terrible state, but dad, as usual, set about making it a proper home. When my sister and I turned 18 we had to register for war work, we were son called up and sent to a factory making pistons for aircraft. We didn’t have a choice in what work we did, as girls were needed to work in the factories. Like the house, I hated this job, but knew that I had no option; one of our friends refused the work and so she spent a few days in prison. However, I eventually settled in and was promoted to a part of the factory where we worked on pistons, which would later be used in the Merlin engines for Spitfires.
We used to work shifts, one-week days 8am to 6pm and nights- 8pm to 6am. We used to go the cinema in the afternoon before the night shift, and by this time we were having night and day air raids. We were informed when an air raid was in progress, but most people stayed in as the film still continued. Rationing was a headache but we still had enough to eat… it was the clothes rationing that wasn’t popular with us teenagers, so we used to swap clothes for something different with our friends. (And as I knew the number of shopkeepers when I worked in the shop I used to call and see what was on offer!) For instance, the grocer told me when packets of crisps were delivered, these were not on ration but we managed to get a packet each every 2 or 3 weeks. The chemist saved me a lipstick- also in very short supply. Stockings of course required clothing coupons, so when we laddered them we took them to the shop to have them individually mended, they charged so much an inch. When stockings were beyond repair, we used browning powder to paint our legs, and as the fashion at the time was seamed stockings, we had to ask someone to draw a black line down the middle of our back legs. Sometimes we were lucky enough to get hold of a panel from an old parachute, which we made into underwear. The only snag was, with half a slip made of this material it was inclined to rub against the back of our legs, and cause holes in our precious stockings.
Then the Americans entered the war and we had quite a lot of them living in London. They always seemed to have plenty of money, chocolate, and endless supplies of chewing gum- not to mention nylon stockings!
Several of my friends went out with these Americans, but my father forbade us to mingle with them. For some reason he did not trust them. My friends who did enjoy their company went dancing and learned how to jive; they were given chocolate, nylon stockings, even food, all very acceptable.
During this time however, as some of the schools were closed, my brother had missed out on a lot of schooling. My parents were asked to send him away from London to be evacuated, but as several of the first children evacuees were coming back because they were so unhappy away from home, my parents decided it would be better if he stopped with the family.
Then again we had a nasty experience… when a bomb dropped across the road wer were in our Anderson shelter, and when the all clear had sounded, we went in the house to review the damage. Luckily it wasn’t too bad, ceilings in bedrooms were badly damaged and we lost a couple of windowpanes, but as our father was able to repair the damage quite quickly it wasn’t a great hardship.
The war was by this time, drawing to a close, and on the 13th of April 1945, President Roosevelt died, and on that same day our beloved father who had kept up our spirits during the war, died very suddenly that afternoon.
When the war finally ended we didn’t feel very much like celebrating… and even to this day, the thoughts of my father can still bring tears to my eyes.
Things soon were back to normal… I went back to my safe job in the stationer, and there I stayed until I married.

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