MY SIX YEARS OF WAR Part 2 by Olive Tyrie

“MY 6 YEARS OF WAR — Part 2 by Olive Tyrie

IN 1940 DURING A PASSIONATE DEBATE IN PARLIAMENT about the fighting in Norway, the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, bowed his head when former supporters called upon him to resign and Winston Churchill was voted to take the position of Prime Minister on the 10th May.

We all felt more confident with such a man as our Leader. He no doubt made some mistakes, as every person can do, but without him I don’t think we would have won the war. He was always so confident, and his personality was “catching”.

After listening to him on the radio and seeing him on the cinema news, we knew we were going to win, however long it took. He didn’t say it was going to be easy, and warned that it could take a few years. He had been a soldier in l914 —l918 and a politician who became Prime Minister in this war. He had great personality and humour, and he was always known for his cigar.

On the 18th of May the German offensive began, and they advanced so rapidly that it
surprised even the President in Washington who had thought there would be plenty of time for America to decide what to do, but, now, after the French President’s decision to stop fighting, the Germans were well ahead. Holland capitulated then Brussels fell and the German tanks had already broken through the French Maginot line, and they were on their way to Dunkirk, killing and taking British soldiers prisoners on their way. They couldn’t be stopped.

There were now soldiers on the beaches at Dunkirk, and the Royal Navy had already arrived and were taking boats in to pick up the survivors and take them back to the ship. As one ship was filled to capacity, it turned to go back to England and another came forward and so it went on and many lives were saved, but also many were shot and killed by the Germans firing from the cliff-tops and enemy planes came over dropping bombs. There was a great loss of life even though the older civilians who owned their own small boats which they had bought before the war to spend holidays and weekends on the rivers of England, took an Armada of their little boats across the channel to pick as many as they could who were queuing to get into the Naval ships.
The last man alive was taken into a boat, and they returned to England. We were on our own now.

DUNKIRK will never be forgotten. It will remain in all history books.

If the Germans thought they were going to invade and be in England within a few weeks they were mistaken. We had our Navy to prevent them crossing the English channel. We had our Air Force to protect us from the waves of bombers coming over every night. And last, but not least, we had our Armies to fire the big guns as many enemy bombers were sent over and some got through to continue on to the Midlands and the North, where a lot of damage and loss of life occurred.
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Everyone at home had had the choice of an Anderson shelter, which was built in the gardens, deep down in the ground and one stepped into these shelters and stayed there until the air raid was over. Or a Morrison shelter, which was like a large table built of metal and screwed into the floor. If the house was hit those under could be brought out and saved. It was a choice of going outside in the winter when it was very cold or staying in the warmth of a room. We decided on a Morrison and my father fitted it in one weekend. Our room was large enough to take it, and we bought a colourful throw-over to hide the metal.

We had been told that we had to buy thick black curtaining to draw across the windows, behind our own curtains so that no lights could be seen by the enemy planes passing overhead, which would have given an indication of a large town worth bombing.

When we went out in the evenings during the following winter months there were no lights at all, and it was so difficult to see where we were going, and so we carried thin pencil torches to guide us in the right direction.

All the trains and buses had blue lights just sufficient to stop ourselves from sitting on people instead of empty seats. Britain was free from the enemy, but we all dreaded the full moon because it was so light and we knew then that we would have a night of enemy planes coming over, and they could see their target.

Before the war we used to dread the heavy fogs we had in the winter, but, during the war we knew there would be no bombing at such a time, and we welcomed the fog.I would like to tell the sad story of Miriam, a girl who lived with her parents in Beaconsfield. She was two years older than me, and had applied to be a WREN but in the meantime she came to work part-time in C.C. Wakefield & Co. Ltd. and we became friends. She eventually received her call-up papers and went off happily in her uniform for training. After a while she returned home and her mother was pleased because she wasn’t going to be in any danger. She was going to Singapore with other WRENS to take up the work of male naval officers who were returning to duty on ships protecting our shores.

We had a very enjoyable party at her home with hugs and kisses from everyone and looked forward to a get-together as soon as the war was over, and promised to write her letters, providing she answered them!! Goodbye, goodbye, we said, as we all left laughing and happy for her. But it was the saddest thing — the naval ship she was on, and for which she and others had gone up to Scapa Flow in Scotland to embark was torpedoed and destroyed with all lives lost. The reality of war was hard to face when friends you knew were killed.

I was alive and able to travel backwards and forwards, and my parents and I were able to take it in turns with others in the same avenue to spend a night in a brick built air-raid shelter, especially built to keep watch and report . We were called air raid wardens. We went through a period when hundreds of incendiary bombs dropped out of the sky and when they landed they burst into flames, some landed on roofs of houses which caught fire before the firemen could get to the spot, and it would show the German pilots overhead another site for bombing, or perhaps to guide their way, as we were on the flight route to the north. But a lot were easily destroyed by the wardens on duty — we all had buckets of sand and water with hosepipes ready at hand in the air-raid shelter, and in our own gardens.

I remember one evening when I went on duty and was walking up the avenue, we could hear bombers going over, and we could see a large red sky over London and realised that the City was receiving another heavy bombardment, causing fires. The majority of Londoners spent the night in the underground stations during a raid.

My father and I always left the house together every working morning and one
night it was exceptionally noisy and we couldn’t sleep so we stayed dressed and made cups of tea. Bombs were being dropped nearby, we felt sure, and we took our tea under the indoor air-raid shelter, and wondered how safe we were when the floor under the shelter shook. The raid lasted three hours before the “all clear” sounded.

My father and I set off as we did every morning for the station (me to go to the security of the countryside in Beaconsfield, and he, to go to St. Johns Wood a suburb just outside London. We saw lights ahead and many people trying to get out the bodies of a completely wrecked house. “Oh my God, Daddy, that’s Olive Peacock’s house, but they should be alright they always sleep in the shelter” But that night they didn’t and mother father and 19-year old daughter were all killed.

We walked on slowly, thoughtfully, and sadly, and into the High Road where Jean lived, and found that a large bomb had hit the middle of the parade of shops and flats and more dead bodies and several injured were being recovered.. Fortunately, for Jean, her father and aunt, were safe, although their roof had been damaged.
Because of Olive’s death Jean and I were shocked and we both started crying. I decided not to go to Beaconsfield but stay and see what we could do to help. First of all my father and I returned home to see how my mother was, because news carries fast, and she was friendly with those who had died. We all knew the possibility of another raid that night and because of the damage to their roof Jean’s father and aunt decided to move to her house in Palmers Green.

It made me think of my helplessness and of all those in the forces being killed, and I was safe in Beaconsfield every day, and so I decided to join the Red Cross to learn and study in the evenings and eventually when qualified I would be able to work in the local hospital in the evenings and weekends. (… to be continued in Part 3)

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