WORLD WAR II RAMBLINGS - No.1. The BLITZ

One early evening of October 1940 during the London blitz at age twelve I obtained sixpence from either of my mother or aunt to go to the ‘pictures’ at the Majestic cinema Mitcham (then in Surrey about 8/10 miles south of central London, now within Greater London) situated at Fair Green about a mile away from our home near to the Cricket Green. It was a very familiar route to me as it was part of my daily walk to school.

How I obtained so much cash so easily I don’t know, it was a significant sum then. However it was nearly my undoing. ‘Going to the pictures’ in those days was a highlight in ones life, not only to see the film but to enjoy the environment of the ‘Picture Palace’ with its Compton organ complete with coloured lights and played by the resident organist during the break between the programme. I cannot remember the title of the film, but it might have been an American musical in Glorious Technicolor (sic) which brought some glamour into our drab lives. In addition there was always the News Reel by Gaumont British News or Pathe`Pictorial which updated us with the war news by showing the more favourable events to convince us visually and verbally
(the latter in those clipped Oxford tones we laugh at today), that despite all the Hun could throw at us, we were holding fast.

However my attempted escapism was short lived as the Luftwaffe had got wind of my outing and decided to foul it up by yet another air raid on London docks by Heinkels/Junkers aircraft, whose track took them over or near Mitcham. The result was that the air raid sirens ‘went’ with their fearsome undulating wail. Instructions to cinema owners in that event were to evacuate their buildings. I presume the Civil Defence authorities felt it was more convenient that civilians be killed or injured on the street, than inside buildings.

Therefore I was out on the street in the dark, during an air raid with the 3.7 inch naval anti-aircraft (ack-ack) guns at Mitcham common gun site blazing away - a terrifying noise — which combined with the ‘blackout’ in full effect, was a unique
experience for me. It meant, apart from being terrified, I could not see my way very well in the darkness, and had to rely upon my intimate geographical knowledge of the area, plus help from the searchlights which silhouetted buildings against the night sky, to make my way home.

I knew that I had to get to a public underground ‘air raid’ shelter quickly. Our own Anderson steel shelter in a room at home, was my preferred option, but too far away
I felt, for me to escape injury or death. The alternative was two surface brick shelters on Cricket Green (the Australian Test team played on that pitch before and after the war). Not all public air raid shelters were underground, but the brick surface ones were largely unused as they were considered by the general public to be no safer than being in a bungalow.But it was my best and only option. I started to run and I reached the site much sooner than I would have, at my normal ‘walking home from school’ pace.

I was aware that one of the two had been ‘squatted by an aged woman tramp, so I sought sanctuary in the other one. Unfortunately the lighting in it was not working, so despite the hazard of going outside again, I left and went reluctantly to the occupied one. The shelters were about twelve feet square, with an entrance door at the front left corner and a corridor from it to another door at its end, on the right, into the Shelter space with benches around each wall. I pushed the door open and was hit by a most awful stench, the lighting was on so I ventured in, thinking that any human company would be better than none, but although I believe she seemed pleased to see me, the feeling was not reciprocated, and I made a quick exit back to my first choice. It was what I am now able to describe as ‘a rock and a hard place’ situation.

Once inside my single room, cold and dank detached ‘bungalow’ and in complete darkness, I had no idea if it was also occupied by any undesirables. I called out nervously, but there was no response, so I assumed all was well in that respect whilst trying to overcome my fear of all that was going on around me, I began to assess my chances of survival against the foregoing i.e. being savaged by the repulsive woman next door who might have resented having a new neighbour/dying of cold/being attacked by someone inside who had ignored my earlier enquiry, springing at me from the dark depths of the interior/ or a direct hit by a German bomb.

I stood shaking at the door pondering all this, only to be confronted by a new and perhaps more dire problem. It was raining — not water but ack-ack shrapnel! a factor which I had taken into account as I ran from the cinema, but foolishly felt partly protected by the buildings, and anyway it took second place in my mind, to the urgency of getting to the shelter. I was undecided and listened to the splat of shrapnel as it hit and entered the damp grass of the Cricket Green (the Aussie cricketers didn’t have this problem). My indecision was short lived. I foolishly decided to make another run for it, but which way? The shortest way was the straight line route from the shelter to my home, several hundred yards away but across completely open, shrapnel bespattered ground. I chose an alternative, the pavement, which enclosed the Green on two sides and was lined with large mature trees affording some (I thought) protection from the shrapnel.

So that was it. Off I went into the dark night still hearing the splat of shrapnel
on the Green and pretending it wasn’t falling on the pavement, the ack-ack guns still firing, and running for my bloody life. I made it home safely but to my amazement to be greeted with some chastisement on arrival, and an urgent and worried enquiry as to ‘Where had I been? ‘To the pictures’ I replied ‘but we all had to leave because of the air raid!

As stated earlier I cannot remember the title of the film for which I paid sixpence,
(to see only a truncated version) nor did the organist get to play to me, nor did I
see the News Reel and benefit from its morale boost, about how well our boys in the ‘Forces’ were doing against the Hun, nor did I get my money’s worth of cinematic warmth, comfort and escapism.

But I have never forgotten my unexpected early exit from that Majestic cinema - nor the homebound horrors.

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