My War

The War for me started in August 1939. My parents decided to send me away to the country. I was very homesick, even though I was staying with cousins in their grandma’s cottage. I must have written to my parents telling them how miserable I was. At eleven years old I was the baby of the family, and missed my brother and sister. I don’t remember exactly how I contacted them, but I probably had a postcard ready addressed and stamped. To my utter astonishment my parents arrived, having begged a friend to bring them in his car, on September 3rd, the day the War was actually declared, and they took me home!

Of course, now that there was a War on we discovered that I was just about the only child left in our suburb. We were about 8 miles from central London. All the schools had been evacuated and I was on permanent holiday. My mother used to set me Arithmetic and I had always been an avid reader. I suppose she thought, reading, writing and arithmetic that will do! In fact I didn’t go back to school for over a year. How the authorities didn’t find me, or make some enquiries I will never know.

My parents were not very helpful, and I really did not understand all that the War meant. The B.E.F British Expeditionary Force went to France and was defeated. The Maginot Line fell, and Dunkirk happened. My parents never helped me to understand or explain all that was happening. I Know now that a large wall map and lots of arrows (ah la John Snow) showing me what was happening would have been so useful. Life went on rather boringly. My Father had always grown vegetables so I had to help in the garden. My Mother was never an enthusiastic house wife and liked having me as a tweeny maid. Food rationing had to be accepted. We had identity cards and gasmasks. I had to learn how to bake dog biscuits, because they became scarce. I devised a recipe, flour and fat mixed with Bovril and anything else I could find. I also had to learn how to use a stirrup pump, to put out incendiary bombs, in the event of air-raids, My parents just did not seem to understand the danger of the situation. I had to grow up very quickly.

Inevitably the Battle of Britain started and the German Blitz on London followed. We used to watch the sky over our heads as fighter pilots in their Spitfires intercepted the German raiders. The manoeuvres were called ‘dog fights’. It was exciting and terrifying. We lived fairly close ‘as the crow flew’ to a very large Fighter Station called North Weald, so we were in a direct flight path. The Battle of Britain was eventually won, and the Blitz on London started in earnest. Winter was approaching with dark evenings, helped by the blackout. Night after night the sirens would sound and we would hurry down the garden in to the ‘Anderson Shelter’. We had bunks but it was hard to sleep. The defence barrage was so noisy it was like sitting through a thunderstorm for hours at a time. The bombs would be dropping incessantly. One learnt quickly to count the bombs. A stick of bombs consisted of 8-10 bombs, if you could hear the bombs whistling as they fell you were safe. It was the ones that you didn’t hear, that were likely to land on you. It is hard to imagine living with constant raids that went on for months. One became blasé, and when our shelter began to have rising water, we had to abandon the ritual of sleeping in a dugout, and take our chance in the house. We slept downstairs on the floor, with our heads under the table, or any other heavy furniture. It seems quite ridiculous now to look back, but it felt safer with part of ones body protected from the falling debris.

The War lasted for six long years. Somehow I grew from a little girl into a teenager. Not without difficulty, I was a child to start with and a young women to finish the war. Clothes were rationed and I needed a continual stream of adult clothes, and then working clothes.

I eventually got back to school, and had about 18 months in which to cram myself with all the knowledge that I craved. I had to leave school again all too soon. My enforced holiday lost me the chance of the 11+ exam. I managed to beg for another 10 months tuition and left school at the age of 14½years. I went for an interview at Unilever House in Blackfriars, London. To my surprise I was accepted and became a messenger in the Cable department. When I look back this was all so dangerous. I was only a child, not worldly and well informed as youngsters are today. There were raids all the time. I used to leave home at 8am and by the time my journey was finished I would alight in Fleet Street, with a short walk to Unilever House. My alighting from the bus was just by the Daily Telegraph building in Fleet Street. I would look anxiously up to the top of the building. If, I saw a red barrel on top of the Flagstaff it meant that there was an air-raid in progress.

The War continued. We had double Summer Time. This helped the farmers produce more food. So, instead of moving the clocks one hour we moved them two hours, so it was still light at 11pm in the evening. At this time also the Royal Air Force were bombing German cities in return for our German Blitz. Our bombers would be flying overhead in formation sometimes taking two hours for them all to leave. Then at about 5am one would hear them returning. No longer in formation, but coming back in one’s and two’s. Once I saw one of our bombers flying slowly back with one half of a wing missing.

During this time I was attending classes. Sometimes in the evening, but more often Saturday and Sunday mornings, trying to compensate for the enforced lack of education. One Sunday morning in class I heard a V2 rocket land nearby. I came home as usual and as I approached the lane where I lived I saw a hive of activity. There were fire engines and their crews. Ambulances with nurses and stretchers, Policemen and Air-raid wardens. Outside my house was an ambulance with my parents inside. The V2 rocket I had heard landing destroyed the back of my home. My mother sustained a bad leg injury having been in the bath, and witnessed the back wall falling away. My father was unhurt but shocked having been blown quite a way up the garden. It was sometime before we could return home. Even then we had a tarpaulin roof.

The end of the War came slowly after this. There were desert battles with Rommel and Montgomery. Mr Churchill kept our spirits high with wonderful speeches.

My brother was in the Navy in Sri-Lanka. When V.E.Day came I was 16½ and celebrated by going to London with a girl friend. We made our way to Buckingham Palace and saw the Royal Family and Winston Churchill on the balcony. The noise was deafening and huge fun was had by all.

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