Recollections of World War II as a young woman living in London

It was a Sunday when war was declared. I was in Church and we heard the sirens go. We were all frightened so all huddled up in the choir stalls.

I was 20 years old (now 85) at the time and working in the National Provincial Bank in Aldersgate Street and living in Forest Hill with my parents. I travelled to London on the train to London Bridge station and walked from there to the Bank, across London Bridge, up Cheapside to Aldersgate Street. After about 18 months I was transferred to the branch at 66 Trafalgar Square.

My boyfriend, who I met at Church was in the Territorial Army Royal Artillery so was called up. He was based at Woolwich and was eventually captured by the
Japs and was a prisoner for three and a half years. He worked on building Burma railway.

My daily journey to London was a nightmare; not so bad at first because I was always on the 8.02 am or 8.05 am train from Forest Hill, change at London Bridge for Charing Cross. I then walked across Trafalgar Square with my gas mask over my shoulder to the bank. Eventually Forest Hill station was bombed and I had to catch a number 12 bus to Whitehall. Many times a bus did not come so I had to hitch a lift to London from whoever would take me (including lorry drivers). There was only one day throughout the war when I did not get to Trafalgar Square and that was because I was stuck in a shelter at Forest Hill station from 8 o’clock to 1 o’clock as we were being bombed. I phoned the bank to tell them and they kindly said I need not come in.

At home during the war we slept in the cellar, which was cold and damp but we felt safe there. My father slept in a deck chair.

I had to do fire watching at the bank. Two girls were left in charge and we slept on camp beds in the manager’s room. We played table tennis in the basement to pass the time.

I don’t know if I am letting out bank secrets but General de Gaulle was one of our customers and I often got to speak to him as I was on the securities desk. We also had the accounts of the Free French Forces account and Violette Szabo, the British secret agent who was executed by the Gestapo in 1945 and later received a George Cross. We mostly left the bank at 5 o’clock but if the books were not balanced we had to stay on till they were. At half-yearly balance time we could be there till 11 o’clock at night. I remember the old drunks at London Bridge station, they would talk to you but never touched you, then into the ‘ladies only’ carriage all in the black-out.

My boyfriend was taken prisoner and did not return till the end of August 1945. He phoned me from Southampton, where his boat landed, and we arranged to meet under the clock at Charing Cross station at 3 o’clock the next day. I asked the manager if I could go to Charing Cross to meet my boyfriend, ‘yes he said ‘but only for half and hour and then you must come back and finish your work’.

I had three postcards from my boyfriend in three and a half years; all they said were ‘I am well’, ‘I am working.. love to ….’. I think I still have the cards somewhere in my loft. He was very thin and weighed only 9 stone 6 pounds when he returned home and looked quite yellow from the malaria he had had. He was nearly 6 foot tall. Eventually we married in June 1946 and had a wonderful life together. Sadly he died 8 years ago.

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