Grace's story: In East Grinstead

World War 2 - Peoples War

East Grinstead, Sussex

A quiet small market town, not noted especially for anything of great importance, many interesting buildings, places of worship and a very good hospital.

I had been married for just a month when war was declared and very soon East Grinstead, like many other small towns and villages, became a hive of activity with the arrival of soldiers (Canadians), evacuees and land girls. I remember clearly the arrival of the evacuees from the East End of London, many with brothers and sisters and a few with their mothers. They all carried gas masks slung in boxes around their necks. I remember one mother breastfeeding her small baby and also feeding the two older children in turn. I found this very strange, didn’t think this sort of thing happened. My own mother did not have evacuee children but gave a home to two land girls. Everyone was expected to do their bit towards the war effort and it was done with great willingness.

The hospital became very famous. Most of the airmen and soldiers badly burned in combat came to the hospital under the care of Archibald MacIndoe in his famous burns and plastic surgery unit. When on the road to recovery these servicemen were often seen in the town and made very welcome by local people. A public house was built very close to the hospital and was named the “Guinea Pig” after the name of the club founded by these men.

Ilford, Essex

I left East Grinstead to live in Ilford, east of London and for the first year apart from the inconvenience of blackout and the wailing of sirens nothing serious seemed to happen. The occasional incendiary bomb fell but was soon extinguished by firefighters, local people enlisted to do fire watching duties. My husband worked at the town hall where everyone was expected to do some kind of fire watching duty after office hours. These were worrying, hazardous times but the spirit of friendship and fun existed everywhere. We would walk home in the blackout, after our duties, singing such war songs as “Roll Out The Barrel”.

When my husband received his call up papers for the R.A.F. it meant that I had to remain in Ilford on my own. Women had to work to take the place of the men who had been called up. I worked in a tailor’s shop, this came easy to me as it was my father’s trade. The bombing of London and the East End soon became really heavy and so I moved in with my employer, his housekeeper and her sister. At night we all slept in the cellar, fully clothed in case we had to get out quickly. One night a landmine fell on the centre of Ilford and the next door house was demolished. We were buried in the cellar and had to be dug out. As it was not really necessary for me to be living near London I decided to move on. My husband had been posted to a unit near Leeds in Yorkshire where it seemed a much quieter and safer place to live.

We lived in Leeds for over a year during which time I worked for the Ministry of Fuel and Power in the Public Benefits Building. My job was as an assessor which meant that I was one of a team of six dealing with the allocation of petrol coupons. Essential occupations such as doctors, nurses, farmers etc. had special allowances but there was just a nominal amount for any other car users. Many car owners put their cars up on blocks and did not use them. In spite of food rationing and clothing coupons it was surprising what would appear as bribes to obtain more petrol coupons!

When the bombing started to extend further north it seemed the sensible thing to do, as I was pregnant, would be to return to my parents in East Grinstead. There it was relatively peaceful except for air raid sirens and the sound of our planes to and from their sorties (East Grinstead was close to Biggin Hill and Kenley). Life in East Grinstead remained peaceful until an awful July day in 1943.

My favourite film star, Veronica Lake, was in a film at the local cinema. The film, I think, was called “So Proudly We Hail”. My father suggested that in my condition I stay at home. It was a good decision. In mid-afternoon the Whitehall Cinema was hit by a stray German bomber killing and injuring over 80 people, many friends and people I knew well. After bombing the cinema a lone plane returned and machine gunned the main London road. The reason for this tragedy remains a mystery. The bodies of all those killed were laid out in the car park and in the garage next door to my father’s shop. It was so distressing. This was indeed a terrible tragedy for one small town but everyone rallied round and helped and comforted each other. Counseling was not heard of. Nights now in the Anderson shelter in the garden became more frightening and every time the siren went we all felt more afraid. Fortunately things soon quietened down after this terrible unexplained attack.

The Midlands

Finally I moved to a small village called Seisdon, near to Wolverhampton. My husband had been commissioned and posted to an R.A.F. base called Halfpenny Green where he was able to live out of camp. Although not far from Birmingham the time spent in this village was idyllic. It was peaceful and friendly. We rented a house from a local farmer who was also our neighbour. Because of this we were never short of things like eggs, bacon, meat and vegetables. We were very fortunate (2 ozs. of butter doesn’t go very far).

My daughter was born in this village a month after V.E. Day. Soon after my husband was demobbed and we moved back to Essex. War is terrible, as a family we were very fortunate, both of my brothers returned safely from the R.A.F.. Other losses were very hard but we made friendships. Fun was had when possible but memories always remain. Like us however,
“They Grow Not Old”.

Grace Deakin

86 years old

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