High Explosive Bomb at Red Lion Lane

I was 21 years old, and my old school friend introdcued me to her brother when I stayed at her house. Although we didn't think about the war, the firm I worked for, Charles Letts the diary people, were asking for volunteers to take first aid courses at the local training offices nearby in London SE1. I went along and found it very interesting.
I was in the St John's Ambulance group, and I was to represent the firm, pending enemy action in 1939.
We were asked to find other employment. No redundancy payments then, so my older sister, who was in Woolwich Arsenal in World War I was still young enough to volunteer for the last one, so I did the same, and was one of the first women to go into munitions in May 1940.
In September 1940 we were on duty waiting to punch our clock cards for the 5'o'clock shift, when the warning went. We were used to the odd dogfight, etc, but when we made for the air raid shelters, German planes were coming up the Thames, machine guns blasting at us, and the Battle of Britain had begun.
WE were asked to get out if we could, my friend who knew the engineers for OICS (CIA) the small arms examinations machines managed to get through the wreckage, fire engines and heavy bombs falling.
We made our way home, and waved over the gardens to the people who had been in the shelter that we were alright. Afterwards someone made us some tea. My friend, who was married, said we could go to see if my house was still standing, so we made our way to Plumstead Common. Wally, Hilda and I spent the night in her shelter watching London burn. All along the Thames were factories, railways, and of course the Docks.
We registered for work on Monday morning and were put on three days' leave, pending the clearing up stage of the disaster, and were finally sent to outstations somewhere in Britain.
Between 1940 and 1943 I worked in numerous towns, travelling with my husband, who was a skilled electrician in the war factories, and I managed to get my release at each town to follow him, so I missed out on expenses, and my service was broken. We had some awful lodgings, but we were newly weds with no home ties.
I went back to London, to the rockets and doodlebugs in bomb alley again in Brockly and New Cross.
I trained as a lady engineer for the GPO. All top secret - London embassies, war office, monitored trunk calls, Faraday House, etc. The boys returned home from Dunkirk.
After the war, from 1945 to 1947 I worked as a GPO telephonist. I left in 1947 to have our daughter.
We moved to Bedford in 1956. My husband Reg Daniels was an electrician in war factories (21 years RAE) somewhere in the provinces including Sellafield.
Reg died of Emphysema, it was thought at first he had bronchitis. There was no allowance for industrial injury, but his illness must have been caused by the work he did in the war.

SOME MEMORIES OF MY WAR

I have a store of memories of the second world war. Here are a few of the most unforgettable.
When the war started, I lived in Lewisham, South East London, with my parents and older sister, Connie.
She and I were 'called up' for war work. And Dad volunteered for the A R P (Air Raid Precautions). He was a Member of the Light Rescue Division. This was responsible for administering first aid to the injured after they had been dug out by the Heavy Rescue. Dad had a terrific sense of humour and kept us and those around from going insane, by the funny things he said.
Mum did as much for the war effort as the rest of us. Like many other mums, who kept the 'home fires burning,' so to speak. She always had a hot meal ready for us when we got home, which had to be eaten quickly before the Sirens sounded, warning us of approaching enemy aircraft. We'd have to run down to the Anderson air raid shelter in the garden, which was affectionately called - 'the dug-out.'
Sirens sounded. Some nights (and days) if the warning went while we were having a meal we'd pick up our plates and hurry down to the shelter with them.

On one particular occasion, though terrified, Mum made us laugh by putting the plate on top of her head to protect it from the bombs.
Dad was on duty at Greenwich one night and we other three and our Scotch terrier, Judy were in the 'dug out,' Bombs were dropping fast and furious. They were chucking everything down that night. 'even iron bedsteads,' Dad said afterwards. Which reminds me of when the government confiscated all the iron they could lay it's hands on for the war effort. They took the railings from the front of our houses. I don't think any of them were replaced.
But as I was saying, on this particular night, the three of us were chatting in the shelter. We talked about this and that to try and take our minds off the bombing. Mum told us what had been happening that day. In the afternoon there was a raid including incendiary bombs. Mum went to the front door to see if any passer-by wanted to come in until the ALL CLEAR sounded when an incendiary landed on the doorstep. Mum picked it up hoping to throw it into the road, (I don't think she intended to chuck it back up!) but an Air Raid Warden shouted at her, "Put that 'bleepy' thing down, you silly 'bleeper'". Mum dropped it, rushed indoors and shammed the door. Luckily, the bomb didn't flare up, but burnt a hole in the doorstep, where it remained until the house was bombed all together. But that's another part of the story.
Anyway we had a good laugh when Mum told us all about it.
Another night we were in the shelter when heavy bombing was in progress. Suddenly Connie screamed.
Mum said, "Don't worry love, we're all here together. (Meaning if we got killed, we would all go together).
"It's not that," Connie cried pointing to the pile of blankets which served as our communal bed, "There's a mouse in there." To say we were terrified, was putting it mildly. We scrambled through the opening of the shelter and stood leaning against it, too afraid to stay inside with the mouse. We stuffed our fingers in our ears, because the noise was more deafening out in the open.
Dad found us there when he came off duty.
"What are you doing out here you silly 'bleepers,?' he asked, "It's not safe, get back inside."
"There's a mouse in there," we said in unison.
Dad got rid of it and we all scrambled back into the shelter. Dad said, "If Hitler had dropped a load of mice instead of bombs, he'd have won this 'bleepy' war."
Dad used to tell us what happened while he was on active duty; not the really bad things, though there were plenty of those; like how, who and where they'd been killed. One night, Dad was attending to a wounded family who'd been rescued from it's demolished Anderson shelter.

Dad tried to comfort an elderly lady. "Don't worry love," he said, you'll be alright, the ambulance is here."
"My leg, my leg," she cried, "Where's my leg."
Dad called to one of the other men, "Tourniquet wanted here, leg off. " It was difficult to see exactly what had happened it was so dark. The men daren't use torches, the light would be seen from the air and make a perfect target for enemy bombers.
The injured were carried on stretchers and into the
ambulance. The lady wearing the tourniquet was still shouting about her missing leg. Her husband tried to soothe her. Then he whispered to my dad, "Did you find her leg?" "They're looking for it mate, " Dad answered, knowing there was no chance of finding it. Just as the driver started the engine, the lady's husband said, "It was propped up against the shelter just inside the door."
"What was?" Dad asked.
"Her wooden leg," he replied.
In the factory where I worked, there were humorous notices stuck around the walls to keep up our morale. One read: 'You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps.' And,
'If an incendiary bomb falls through the roof, do not lose your head, put it in a bucket and throw sand on it.' This was meant to be serious. There were other notices, not so polite.

The night that's etched on my memory for all time, was in nineteen forty one, the day after boxing day. It was a dreadful night. The bombing was particularly horrendous. South East London and the surrounding districts were continually being blown up and so many fires that some people described it as the second great fire of London. Dad was on duty at the time, not only heavy bombs were dropping but incendiaries as well and as we had to put them out, we couldn't go into the shelter; as fast as they were extinguished, more flared up. After sometime when things had died down a bit, we were exhausted, so we went indoors to make some tea. Suddenly, Judy, our dog, barked at us and crawled underneath the kitchen table.
"Why is she doing that?" I asked.
It must have been a few seconds later we knew why. We didn't hear the bomb, it was too near. The first thing I knew, was coming round after being knocked out. I felt sticky all over and slowly realised it was blood which seemed to be everywhere and I was spitting out debris and trying to remove glass from my face and clothes. This was difficult to do when you can't see what you're doing in the dark with debris and bombs still dropping around.
I mumbled in the darkness, "I've been injured."
Mum answered, her voice barely above a whisper as she was still dazed, "So have |."

We waited for Connie to reply. But she didn't. Then Mum's voice again, "Con, Con, you alright?"
No answer. We feared the worst. We waited and waited. Then at last we heard my sister's muffled voice, "My head feels as if it's been cut, but I'm O K"
'Thank God," Mum said.
Mum wasn't sure where she'd been injured, but everywhere was hurting.
Even though I was twenty one years old, I was a bit childish
at that moment.
"What about the doggy, she warned us about this?"
Then we heard a little bark as much as to say, "I'm still alive."
"Arrrhs!" were heard.
We had to wipe the dust from our eyes before we could open them. We were all covered in glass, which was responsible for most of our injuries. We groped around trying to find our bearings in pitch dark and talking to each other all the time, mostly about our dear Dad and praying that he was alive. We weren't in the dark for long. There was a whoosh! and flames shot up in front of us, revealing a deep crater where the front of the house had been. We grabbed tight of each other as we stumbled through the rubble. There was another whoosh! Flames surrounded us. We heard afterwards that the gas main had been hit.

Judy stayed close to us as we picked our way over the rubble to find a way out. It was a miracle she was unscathed, because the table she had sheltered under wasn't there any more.
"Come on," Mum said, "We'll try and find a way into the back garden." How we managed that is still a mystery, because there was another crater where the back of the house had been.
But eventually we managed to find the garden and were relieved to find the dug out still intact and stayed there what seemed hours as the bombing continued. We took some comfort from the sound of the Ack Ack guns fighting back, on Blackheath and in Greenwich.
"Perhaps someone will soon come and rescue us," Mum said hopefully.
"I wonder what's happened to Dad," we kept saying.
Then at last, we heard a voice call out, "Are you in there?" It was our wonderful Dad. It was a dreadful shock to him when he came home and found his home in ruins and wondered if we were still in the land of the living. As Dad began to make his way among the rubble the warden in charge tried to stop him. "There's no one left in there he shouted, "You can't go in it's too dangerous.
"You can't tell me what to do, my family is in there somewhere. You can't stop me 'I'm Light Rescue," Dad shouted back, pulling rank.

I can't describe the look of relief on all our faces when we found our family was still in one piece, (well almost) And we kept thanking God.
As Dad was helping us out of the shelter, Mum said to Dad, "Your dinner's in the oven, it's your favourite, boiled bacon." She must have been joking.
"Oven!" Dad cried, "There's no 'bleepy' oven there."
Trust Dad to give a funny answer as well. That's what our family were like, no matter how bad the situation we'd see the funny side. It's the worst situation we have ever been in. We all laughed hilariously. It was really hysteria, but it was better than crying and feeling sorry for ourselves. The tears came next day, when we found we had no home left.
Dad was our rock of Gibraltar, not only did we love him to bits, we felt safer when he was with us.
Anyway, Dad attended to our wounds as best he could and took us to the nearby first aid station. Then a make-shift ambulance, a grocery van, took us to the hospital (a school in Greenwich). After we' d been attended to, we spent the night trying to sleep. Connie and I were given a children's wooden form to lie on. We didn't get any sleep. It was too uncomfortable. My left arm was in a sling and the other side of my body, my bottom had been jabbed with a needle,
with something to keep me quiet because I couldn't stop talking.

Mum laid on the table usually used for another purpose,
I won't mention what. Then when the 'ALL CLEAR' sounded Dad and our little dog walked all the way from Lewisham to Charlton where his sister lived. Next day, we managed to salvage one or two bits from the pile of rubble that had once been our home. We found the left-over piece of pork from our Boxing Day dinner and the rest of the Christmas cake Mum had baked and iced, she'd saved up the rations for months for this.
Dad went to Greenwich Town Hall to beg some clothing coupons, telling the man in charge that we only had what we stood up in.
Then a cousin took us in his van to the auntie at Charlton and she took us in until we found somewhere else to live. It was the day of my uncle's, her husband's funeral. He was a Signal man at Victoria Station and had been killed in an air raid while on duty, so we all comforted each other. At auntie's house we washed the pork under the tap and dusted off the cake and ate them.
There were many casualties that night in South East London, A lot of fatalities including our neighbours.
This following memory is a 'favourite' of mine. Amongst the ruins of our house was a thin column of bricks that had once been part of my bedroom wall.

It reached up into the sky and there was still a scrap of wallpaper stuck to it; clinging bravely to this, was a small picture of Jesus surrounded by children of all colours and nationalities. This was given to me in 1934 when I left school at the age of fourteen. I have taken it with me every time I moved home. It's always hung on my bedroom wall above my head.

Copyright Thurza Blurton. Mrs Thurza Blurton
5 Mosyer Drive
ORPINGTON
Kent BR5 4PN 01689 873717

This story was submitted to the Peoples War web site by Hertfordshire Libraries working in partnership with the Dacorum Heritage Trust on behalf of the author, John Greener. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Air Raid Precaution Units were made up of volunteers with various skills that could be used to recover people from the effects of aerial bombardment, and to give them emergency care until the rescue service could reach them. Such skills which they provided were for example; First Aid; Building and Demolition trades.

It was due to the skills of demolition workers that my Mother's life was saved when our house was demolished by a Rocket in 1944. My family home was at No. 90 Shardloes Road, New Cross. I was serving in the army in Burma at the time
and I remember my Commanding Officer asking me if I wanted to return home. I declined his offer because, having told me that my mother was safe and well, albeit in hospital, I realised that there was nothing I could do to improve her
circumstances if I were to return home. Thankfully, my Mother made a full recovery from her injuries.
Other important jobs to be done in the ARP control point were: Warden Control; Administration; Clerical and Typing work; and very important, Tea making.
There was always a welcoming cup of hot tea waiting for us when we returned to the control point. Each incident had to be recorded with Date, Time and Place. Every person rescued alive and those who were dead had to have their details recorded. Sometimes it was not easy to recognise the dead.

The control point I was attached to was set up in a local builders yard which belonged to Mick McManus, a well known middle weight wrestling champion,

Another important arm of the ARP were Cycle Messengers who with their detailed knowledge of the local district were able to deliver messages to other units. They were able to guide Rescue Services to those needing immediate aid. Their knowledge of the district and the quickest way to contact the Fire and Ambulance services; Hospitals and Doctors Surgeries, proved invaluable when telephone lines were destroyed.

Each London Borough had its own teams of ARP Control points who monitored the fall of bombs and the location of demolished properties so that they could direct the Rescue Services to places where people were known to have taken shelter when the Sirens sounded.

When war was declared at 11.00am on Sunday 3rd September 1939 I joined the ARP and became a Cycle Messenger, much to the consternation of my mother, who thought that I would be much safer at home taking shelter under the kitchen table. But I felt much safer out of the house where I could find my own shelter when the bombs were dropping.

My mother had a job with the local Money Lender as Receptionist, Clerk and Tea maker. She worked in a very pleasant office and enjoyed her work. My Step-Father worked for Southern Railway at Angerstein Works, Woolwich where he was a Semi-Skilled machine operator.

The pattern of my daily life soon fell into a regular routine. I would return home from work at 5.30. have my dinner then go to night school from seven until nine, and then be ready to set off to my local ARP control point to report for duty when the air raid Sirens sounded.

If it was a quiet night I would go off to meet my friends where we would spend the evening in the local Pub or some one's house. I remember with fondness my friends who were a pretty diverse bunch but we had a lot of fun together. Most of them are now dead, unfortunately. In particular I remember my two closest friends who were like me, an only child, so we had something in common. They were, George Nix and Ken Mullins both accomplished musicians. George played Piano and Ken played Saxophone and Clarinet. They formed the basis of a band which played at local functions, I
cannot play any instrument, much to my regret, so I became their agent, getting Gigs and buying their sheet music. We also recruited a Base Guitarist to our group, he had a hunch back due to deformity in his spine I cannot remember his name but I do remember him as an extrovert, a fine musician, with a great sense of humour,

When Harry Roy and his band visited the New Cross Empire he invited people from the audience to go on stage and conduct his band in a comedy sketch. Our friend took up the challenge, the result was hilarious with the musicians playing in different timing to the conductor. I never saw him after this, unfortunately, he was killed in a car accident while I was in the army. But, I shall never forget that night.

I became friendly with a Drummer, Eric Saunders, who had two sisters, Dorothy and Joyce. Their mother thought that Dorothy and I might develop a close relationship but I was not aware of her feelings toward me, and in any event, I would not consider a relationship during war time. The Saunders owned a Sweet and Tobacconist shop in Brockley and this became the focus for our social activities.

The shop had a large cellar, which we cleared out and decorated so we had premises for a club. Friday night was music night when we would join thousands of other listeners to the wireless for our weekly session of dancing to Victor Sylvester and his orchestra. Through the wireless he taught us the basic steps of Ballroom dancing. Each week there would be a different step in the dancing repertoire. He received many letters from people who wanted a particular dance, mostly Latin American, which was very popular at the time. He gave us many hours of pleasure.
Mr Saunders was a professional violinist and became a great help in setting up our club. He introduced us to the music of Stephane Grappelli, probably the greatest Swing and Jazz violinist of our time. It was here that we organised our activities and played out our parodies to mimic the times.

During the Spring, Summer and Autumn months, if the weather was fine, we would walk to Hilly Fields where we played cricket or football. We each had a bicycle and sometimes we would ride to another park for a change of scenery. One of our friends had a Tandem and on long rides such as a trip to Southend I would take the rear seat. Probably half a dozen of us would go off for the day, taking a picnic lunch to eat on Southend Pier, after a play on the beach and a swim in the sea we returned home. There was very little motorised traffic on the roads at that time and we felt no danger in cycling that far. It is not a journey I would fancy doing today. Unlike to-days youngsters we had very little money but we had tremendous fun.

As an alternative to the club we would go for a drink at our local pub 'The Wickham Arms'. Although we were under age for Pub drinking the son of the Publican was a member of our club so his mother, who was the Landlord, allowed us to sit in a corner out of the way of other drinkers and drink our half pint of beer, at that time the most popular drink for young lads was Brown Ale.

In spite of the war, in those early years, we spent many happy hours particularly in the winter, in the warm cosiness of the Wickham Arms planning our future activities.

During the years '40' and '41 at the height of the London Blitz my mother would make up a bed for me under the Dining Room table a large wooden structure which she thought would save me if the roof fell in but I wasn't so sure so when the air raid sirens sounded I would be off to the ARP centre ready for duty. At this time I had my job with TELCON from 9.00am until 5.00pm. Sometimes, if I had been busy during the night I found it difficult to stay awake during the following day so I used to spend my lunch hour in the office toilet where I could have almost an hour's uninterrupted sleep.

The weather played a great part in the level of ARP activity. If it was raining heavily or snowing the Germans stayed at home, which meant we had a night off. So, there was very little activity during the winter months. During the early years of the war, 1940 and 1941 London was heavily bombed day and night with High Explosive and Incendiary bombs, particularly, the docks area on the River Thames.

Fortunately, Greenwich was South East of the city centre where the main London Docks were so we did not suffer as much bombing as they did, but I watched the dog fights between the German and British aircraft as they were played out over southern England during the summer of 1940. This was the Battle of Britain.

As an ARP messenger I had my share of incidents the most common when I fell into a shell hole that I hadn't seen in the dark, sometimes there would be water in the hole and I would finish my duty soaking wet, apart from a few cuts and grazes I didn't suffer any major injury.

From my house or the factory I could see the fires from the blazing docks which cast a pall of smoke over the river. I remember the first day of the London blitz it was 7th of September 1940. A date ingrained in the memory of anyone who lived in London at that time. The closest and biggest single tragedy that I remember was when a High Explosive bomb dropped on Woolworth's store in New Cross Road, over a hundred people were killed, this became the largest single incidence locally, of the war.

I served in the ARP until I was sixteen years old when I realised there was a much bigger job for me. However, at such an impressionable age the sights and sounds of those far off days have made sure that I never forget what the people of London went through to ensure that Britain will never give in to tyranny.

THE HOME GUARD

I had reached the age where I felt that I should be doing more for the war effort, so I joined the Home Guard. A unit had been formed at the Telcon Works at Greenwich. Because, geographically, we were in the county of Kent our parent Regiment was The Queens Own Royal West Kent Regiment. Our Commanding Officer was one of our own factory managers who had ended his service in the First World War with the rank of Major, so he was naturally, given command of our unit. Unfortunately, I cannot remember his name, but I do remember him to be a very kindly gentleman whether at work or on parade.

When the Home Guard was first formed it was known as the LDV(Local Defence Volunteers). The only defence we had at the time were wooden dummy rifles, we were taught basic military skills such as marching and rifle drill, self defence and fire drill. We paraded once a week for training. Our duties were guarding the rear of the Works because of its easy approach from the river, and the threat of invasion made us particularly vulnerable.

We also did our share of Fire Watching and putting out Incendiary Bombs. I remember the visit to the Works by HRH The Duke of Kent which took place the day following a night aerial attack on the factory in which a bomb destroyed the high frequency furnaces. Fortunately the night shift had been cancelled so nobody was injured. The Factory was working again within twenty four hours although the employees suffered considerable discomfort through exposure to the weather until the roof was repaired.

Production in the Works was often disrupted due to daylight air raids. When the Siren sounded we used to leave our offices and machines and gather in a part of the Works which was deemed safest for the employees. There were other parts of the Works that had been made as safe as possible so that we didn't all congregate in the same area.

Air raids offered an opportunity to take a break from our work, to rest and relax as much as possible. It was at such times that I learned to play Bridge, which I found to be an absorbing card game. Although the Works were on the German flight path to the London Docks I don't ever remember the Works being bombed during daylight hours. The German bombers made for the docks and the city a couple of miles up river from Greenwich. My service with Telegraph Construction and Maintenance Company came to an end at the beginning of January 1942 when I left to join the Army.

About the third day of my first week Nurse MacGarry went for her lunch break and I was alone on the ward. There were 75 patients on the ward; most were up and about and sitting in the Day room. At one end of the ward we had 10 sick old ladies who needed nursing care after having had operations. Staff Nurse MacGarry told me to stay with these patients and not bother about the others, as they were all able to look after themselves. She had been gone about a quarter of an hour when I noticed one lady appeared to be restless. She had had a Mastectomy (breast removed). I went to look at her and found she had pulled all her drainage tubes out of her wounds. As MacGarry had not told me what to do in an emergency, I went to the telephone and rang matron. I told her what had happened and asked her what I should do. She was so nice, and came along to the ward, rolled up her sleeves and told me to wash all the tubes and put them in the sterilizer and boil them and gave me more instruments to boil. She then rang the Doctor. When Staff Nurse MacGarry came back from lunch, there was I, a very junior nurse in her first week of training, helping matron and the doctor in replacing all the tubes. Matron congratulated me on my quickness in calling for help, and that I had not panicked. I had just got on with the job as if I had been nursing for years.

I always got on very well with Staff Nurse MacGarry and if ever she was doing special dressings, she would always ask me if I would like to come and watch or help her. This is how I learned basic nursing skills. The worst part about this type of nursing was the counting. There were always a great many patients at one time, and we had to count the patients into the toilet block, then lock the doors, then they had to be counted back into the ward again. Every ward, toilet, and bathroom was locked. Round your waist you wore a rope belt with a bunch of keys attached.

Another day I was alone during a lunch break and a patient had an epileptic fit. I had never seen one before, and did not know what to do, but one of the other patients said "It's alright nurse, I'll see to her", and put a gag in her mouth and told me to see that she did not bang herself against anything. I was amazed how all the patients helped each other. They also did all the work on the wards, and some patients who could be trusted were allowed to work in the kitchens, laundry and sewing rooms. The constant counting caused a great deal of stress. Counting knives, forks, spoons at every mealtime etc, etc. After six months my friend Winnie Matthews went home on a weekend pass and did not come back. I rang her mother and she told me she was having a nervous breakdown and could not return. I missed her very much as we had spent our off duty time together playing tennis and hockey for the hospital.

The work we had to do with so many patients was terrible. One weekend I went home and my mother was on holiday, and my grandmother was staying in our house to look after my brothers. She brought me a cup of tea one morning and found me counting the wallpaper patterns. She immediately sent for our family doctor named Doctor Wilson, who was also a very close friend of my mother. He advised me to transfer at once away from the Mental Hospital and continue my training at a local hospital. This hospital was called "The Brook" which was a fever hospital. Half was for general patients, and the other half took the overflow from the Military Hospital next door called "The Herbert Hospital". As the war was on and beds and nurses were needed after the retreat of Dunkirk, I had no trouble in arranging the transfer. Doctor Wilson got in touch with matron, who asked me to return to work one month's notice while she arranged the transfer. So after 11 months at Bexley, I reported to The Brook Hospital. This episode probably prevented me from having a nervous breakdown like my friend Winnie. She was ill for a long time and gave up nursing altogether and married a Naval Officer.

At the Brook Hospital, I lived in, and had a room in the Nurses Home. Now at last this was real nursing. We had lots of wounded soldiers from Dunkirk. They were brought direct from the beaches in France to Dover by boat, then from the boats into Green Line coaches which were converted into ambulances straight to us at the Brook. We worked ten to twelve hours a day. In my set I met Ursula Watts, a girl from Hastings. We became friends, and as she could not get home often she used to come home with me. We used to stand on a bridge between the two Nurses Homes and watch the R.A.F. Battle of Britain spitfires coming back from a raid doing the victory rolls in the sky. Being a fever and general hospital we had to take the casualties from the bombing, along with the local children with infections. We did get a few lectures, and a few practical lessons from Sister Tutors, but we really learned most from the sisters and staff nurses on the wards that we worked on. We never knew from one day to the next what we would be doing. Although we were allocated a ward we were moved according to the urgent need at the time. One day would be a general ward, another would be de-lousing children who had been sleeping in shelters, or we were looking after babies that had been abandoned. There was a ward full of healthy babies who had been left in Churches, on doorsteps or on Woolwich Common.

We all had our own room in the nurse's home with a home sister named Sister Hays to look after us. One day she confiscated my portable gramophone. I had bought a record of Bing Crosby singing White Christmas. Unfortunately my room was right next door to her office and she got so sick of hearing it being played over and over she marched in one day and took it away, and I never did get it back.

Altogether it was a very happy life. All our food was provided in our respective dining rooms. Sisters had their own dining room, nurses in training had a separate section in a large dining room, the other section was for staff nurses. Matron had her private room and the doctors had another place to eat.

All our laundry was done for us. We only got £3 per month, but I remember buying a lovely dress for only five shillings. We had our own sitting room for trained and untrained staff. We used to have little dances in our sitting room. No men were allowed in the nurse's home, but you could make an appointment with the home sister to receive visitors in the visitor's room and were allowed a tray of tea from the servery provided it was booked in advance.

It was great having my home within walking distance because I took all my friends home. My mum always made us welcome, and gave us whatever was going, such as home made cakes, scones and jam tarts with a pot of tea.

It was the year of 1939 and things were pretty quiet. We nursed soldiers who were ill with flue etc. Children with their childhood complaints such as measles, chicken pox, scarlet fever and diphtheria, the latter being the worst. We had a strong wooden table in the ward where the doctors used to do tracheotomy. I remember a lady doctor named Dr. Coutts. She was a wonderful doctor and excelled at this particular operation. A child would come in with diphtheria, the type in which the neck swelled and the child would go blue and be unable to breathe. On the table they would go, and in seconds a tiny vertical cut would be made and a small tube passed into the trachea and the child was able to breath again. Dr. Coutts was by far the fastest and neatest at this operation. In the early days I saw many of these operations each week, but with the discovery of immunisation and antibiotics, diphtheria faded out. I thought about Dr. Coutts many years later, when I saw some of the ugly scars some doctors left and their pathetic attempts at doing tracheotomy.

Before continuing further on my nursing memories, I must tell you about the rest of the family. I was the eldest, 15 months later brother Bill came along, then brother Jim and the youngest was Dorothy. My grandmother on my mother's side was called Emily Jeffs, who was married to Joseph Inseal. She had ten children, six girls and four boys. We were very close to my grandmother. She lived next door to us in Maryon Road. Two of the houses, Nos. 6 and 8, had been left by my grandfather's aunt, to my mother and her sister Doll. It was at No.6 that my grandmother lived along with her daughters that were left. World war 1 took three SODS. The fourth son joined the Army. One daughter had been adopted by my grandfather's brother. My mother took over No.8 when I was 5 years old.

When World War II came, my brother Bill went into the R.A.F. Brother Jim went into the Guards. When Dorothy was 14 years old she went to work in an office at "Siemens". I had, by then, started nursing.

An Anderson shelter was built in the garden and a surface shelter was built for the public opposite the house, by the wall of the pub which was called The Woodman. During the Christmas of 1939 the nurses were invited to a dance at the RA. Gun site 161 Heavy AA Battery on Woolwich Common. Six of us went from the Brook Hospital to this dance, and during the evening I met Bill Ewins (later to become my husband). Our first dance together was a "Boomps A daisy", not very romantic, but this was the first dance of hundreds we were to have together. After a two-year courtship we were married on the 18dI December 1941 by special licence at Greenwich Town Hall. I continued to work at the Brook Hospital, but just before we were married, I found a job with more money at Charlton Lane First Aid Post. We were having lots of raids by now. My friend Ursula married Robin Cork, who she also met at one of the dances. She did, however, know him previously, as he came from Hastings where she also lived. One night while on night duty there was a very bad raid. Bombs fell on the Brook Hotel and some large three-storey house next to the Hospital. When Ursula looked at the house next morning after coming off duty, the whole of the front of the house was down and she could see her bed on the third floor from the street. She came and stayed in my mother's house for a few weeks until she could find a flat. .

The First Aid Post where I worked was run by the medical staff of Charlton Football Club. Our boss was Jimmy Trotter who was England's football trainer. This was a different life from the hospital. I was in charge of the theatre and had to always make sure everything was ready for any emergency.

Now that I have retired, looking back on my 42 years of nursing, enormous changes have taken place, and the conditions when I started in 1938 were very different by the time I retired in 1980. Before 1940, if nurses married, they had to resign. We were not allowed to use Christian names to each other, and when we were very junior nurses we used to do all the cleaning of sluices, lavatories, light shades, walls, ceilings and metal beds etc. We only had carbolic and lysol as cleaning material, and had to soak our duster in this and dust everything in sight. Every morning when we were on early shift we had to pull every bed forward a few feet, the domestic would sweep and bumper the floor, then we would dust the back of the beds with our damp dusters and push the bed back. The beds had been made by the night staff. If you were not dusting or carbolizing (as we used to call it) we were making up the green soft soap for the enemas. The soft soap was dissolved in boiling water in a big white enamel jug. It was made every day ready to lay up the trolley, along with the jugs, rubber pipes and funnels. There was a special way to lay up every trolley for each different procedure.

We had to clean and polish the bedpans and urinals; they were enamel and stainless steel. We had all the horrid jobs and a few that I remember were washing the bandages made of flannelette which were used on splints and for various other things. Some of these bandages were very soiled and had to be soaked m Lysol then washed with hard white soap, hung up to dry, then rolled ready for use again.

Lots of the children brought into hospital had fleas and lice and we had a foul smelling oil to put on their hair, then we had to put a bandage made into a cap on their head, these bandages also had to be used again and again. Also, horror of horrors, cleaning the metal spittoons (I heave now at the thought of it.)

Another job was dragging screens about. They were heavy metal and had pretty cotton curtains on them. One screen did not cover half the bed, so it usually took three of these screens to completely hide it, leaving enough room for you and your trolley to do your work.

When sister arrived at the door at 8am - one hour after us - every bed would have been made, comers neatly pleated, castors of the beds turned in and the openings of the pillowcases away from the door. Sister had a table in the middle of the ward, and we used to gather round her with sleeves rolled down and cuffs on, ready for her to give us our instructions. We were not allowed to take notes then, everything she told us we had to remember.

Night duty was worse because you had to accompany the night sister when she did her round; this was about an hour after being on duty. You had to tell her the name and diagnosis of every patient) without notes of any kind. The first night on the ward was the worst, as you had to get to know every patient yourself. During the night we also had to fill drums with gauze. This had to be cut and folded in different sizes, roll cotton wool into balls and larger rolls of cotton wool. Before packing rubber gloves we had to wash and powder them. All this had to be done when I first started nursing, but as the years went on things became much easier with the invention of disposables (C.S.S.D.). These changes were due to the N.H.S. which started in 1948, the Salmon Report of 1966, and re-organisation in 1972. Each time I returned to work in hospitals over the years the changes were very much for the better and life was made much easier for the nurses. Earlier the prejudices and injustices that went on were terrible. One example was when I was going to become engaged to Bill Ewins. His mother had arranged a party for us and I had booked the weekend off well in advance, bearing in mind we were only allowed one weekend off per month. On the Friday morning, the day before my weekend off, I was told I could not have it as the "off duty" roster had to be re-organised owing to a senior nurse being off sick. I went home in tears to my mother and told her I could not go to my own engagement party. She said "You will go and you will take it. Don't worry, I will ring the hospital". So I took the weekend off. My mother had telephoned but on Monday morning I was sent for by Matron, and given a right ticking off. I told her the truth, and said I had requested and been granted the weekend off weeks before. She told me I was ridiculous to get engaged when there was a war on.

I had been at the Brook 2 years by this time, and had taken and passed my first examination. The upset regarding the weekend refusal made me very unhappy so I started looking for another job. Another nurse in my set called Molly O'Shea had gone to work on the First Aid Post and told me the money and off duty were much better. She let me know as soon as there was a vacancy going and when I applied for it I got it. It was so much easier, because I was living at home and Bill could come to see me when he was free. Life in London was pretty grim. Night after night the air raid sirens went off to warn us that enemy aircraft had been sighted. These raiders used to scatter a lot of incendiary bombs. These bombs were about 10 inches long, and filled with inflammatory substances, which caused fires. They were held in the plane in baskets and thrown out. They used to go through rooftops setting houses alight. This lit the way for the bombers that followed. Hundreds of these bombs were scattered over the Docks and along the riverside warehouses. The A.R.P, Wardens spent many a night fighting these fires, many working right through the night. Outside our toilet in the garden was a sort of Pagoda with trelliswork where mother had trained a very pretty Virginia Creeper to cover it. This also gave us a bit of protection from the rain when running out to the toilet. One night we were all in the shelter and an incendiary bomb fell right onto the trellis, which was made of wood, and set it alight. Luckily Mr. Ford, who was a fireman and lived next door, sat it and put the fire out, but it had destroyed the framework and it all had to come down and was never replaced.

Bill was stationed at several gun sites around London, Clapham Common, Bostal Heath, and Dulwich Common. In December 1941 he came home one day and told me he was being posted overseas and asked me if I would wait for him. I said I would not promise, as one never knew in wartime what would happen. He then asked me to marry him, and the following week he got a special licence.

We were married at Greenwich Town Hall. Sid Doze, an army friend of Bill's was our best man. Bill's parents, sister Pat and brother Harry, my mother and my grandmother along with several friends from the First Aid Post were present. Being a Thursday and at such short notice, most friends and relations could not make it. As food was on ration, I made arrangements to have a pub lunch for us all at the Marquis of Granby, New Cross. We were able to get a tram outside the Town Hall. After the ceremony the publican said he would make it near to closing time so that we could stay longer. They put a long table in the saloon bar and laid on a very good meal, and Bill's sister Pat played the piano. Afterwards we made our way home on the No.53 bus calling at Woodha11s, a photographer in Wellington Street, to have photographs taken. On arriving home my mum had prepared a lovely tea. Incidentally the wedding cake was chocolate covered. In the evening when Bill's parents had gone home we went to New Cross Empire to see a show and Vera Lynn was top of the bill.

Later that week Bill was kitted out to go overseas, and at the last minute it was cancelled because Singapore had fallen. That was where he should have gone. My mum made us a nice bed-sitting room in her house. At this particular time Bill was able to get home quite often. Between army gun-sites and home he had to get up very early to be on parade in the morning. In May he was sent to Leeds, a by then I was expecting a baby. I went up to Round Hay, Leeds, for a weekend before he was sent overseas. I was still working at the First Aid Post and did so until two weeks before my baby was born.

The air raids continued so I had to go to Paddock Wood as the British Hospital for mothers and babies had bought a large country mansion there. All the~ mums having their first babies were sent there to get away from the London bombing. I was taken there a couple of days before my baby was due. It was a lovely place with beautiful grounds in the Kent countryside. Nearly all of us were young wives, and most of our husbands were soldiers serving overseas. We, therefore, had quite a lot in common with one another.

It was October, the weather was perfect, when I woke on the 14th I said "my baby's due today" but I had no pains or feeling that it would be on it's way. In the morning I went to pick blackberries, and in the afternoon a crowd of us all walked into the village. On the way back my pains started. There were six of us all very heavy with pregnancy, and they were all laughing and saying I wouldn't make it. We had to pass a fire station and all the firemen started calling out 'would we like a lift?' "Yes please" I said, so six of us arrived back on the fire engine. The time was now 4.30pm. I was hungry and had my tea. William Kenneth, my first baby was born at 7 pm after a good, straightforward delivery. My reason for choosing this name was because I had been friendly with a soldier who was killed at Dunkirk - this was before I met Bill - his name was Kenneth Williams. As William was Bill's name I thought I would give him Kenneth as his second Christian name in memory of this lad. After two weeks I returned home to my mother's house, who let me have two rooms. I was able to look after my baby myself with the help of Dorothy my young sister and my mum.

My brother Bill had met and roamed a North Country lass and had a son ill the July. They lived ill Coventry so we did not see each other very often.

My mother was working in Woolwich Arsenal at this time doing special war work. I used to help in the house and do the shopping etc. We used to have our meals together to save rations, as food was not very plentiful.

We still got a lot of air raids. Sometimes the siren would go m the evening and the all clear the next morning, which meant the whole night spent m the shelter. We made it very comfortable m there, and used to put baby Bill to bed ill there to save disturbing him.

Later the doodlebugs started coming over during the day, and when the baby was 18 months old, I was already an Officer in The British Red Cross at Blackheath. I did odd duties in the evenings so I asked Miss Priday, who was in charge, if there was a nursery anywhere that I could work and have. My son with me, and of course away from London. It was a Monday morning when I asked her, and by the Thursday I was in Bournemouth. "The Knole" was a huge house belonging to Major General Lord Croft. He had let the Red Cross use it for children, otherwise it would have been used for troops and no doubt they would have ruined the teak floors.

There were 48 children from Greenwich and Deptford who had been evacuated. The children were aged between two and seven years. I was to be in charge of the sick children, but most of the time they were all fit and well. Billy, my son, was the youngest at 18 months and there were three others of two years. Billy shared the nursery with them. We had two dormitories, one for the girls and one for the boys. A night nurse would always be on duty while they slept. During the day we had lots of helpers and 'live in' staff. Matron was a woman called Miss Braine; the other nurses were from the Red Cross and St. John's. Teachers came during the morning to teach the older children. The house had beautiful playrooms, and all day various people would call in to see the children.

I had a 6-bedded sick bay and if any of the children were poorly I would take them and look after them until they could return to the other children. I had no serious illnesses while working there, just coughs and colds, etc., and none of them had to be isolated for more than a couple of days. We had children come to us with chicken pox, but by the time more than six had got it, I suggested we didn't isolate them, but let them be treated naturally, unless of course there were complications and within three weeks we were completely clear with no complications what-so-ever. The doctor came in a couple of times a week just to keep a check on them. We had a lovely time in Bournemouth. The troops opened up a small part of the beach by Boscombe Pier, and we were able to take the children to play on the sand. The beach was barb wired and the public were not admitted on it. We would take the children down to the beach on a nice sunny day, also go for walks in Boscombe gardens. We had beautiful lawns in the grounds of the house where we would have picnics.

Most of the large houses and hotels had been taken over by the troops, and of course, when they knew there was a children's nursery nearby they would bring sweets. Most of these troops were American and they also gave u money, which would be put with other funds provided, so we were able to buy the children shoes, overcoats and other items of clothing, which they needed. Each child returned home with a new rig- out. The cooks in the U.S. base opposite the house also made the children large slabs of cake. One day they had a signal to pack up and leave for active service, but before leaving they gave us all their stores of butter, jam, large tins of fruit, tea and sugar. There was so much food given to us that we never wanted for anything, and when I went home for a few days I was given plenty of rations to take with me. I stated in Bournemouth until I heard from Bill. He told me he would be coming home soon as his name had been picked out for early leave, so I returned home before the end of the war to get a place ready for him.

The war was ending and my mother was finishing work in Woolwich Arsenal, so I got work as a district nurse with the Queens District Nurses. I was standing doing my ironing one Sunday evening about 6.30pm. I was alone as mum and George had gone to a whist drive (they had married by this time), when Bill walked in. He had sent me a telegram to say he was on his way, but it didn't come until a couple of hours after his arrival. He looked so well, with a lovely bronze tan. His telegram arrived while he was having a bath in the big bungalow bath in the kitchen (no bathrooms yet).

His war service had taken him to Cape town, India, Ceylon, Egypt, Middle East, Tobruk, Beirut, Lebanon, Damascus, Ismalia, Jordan, Jerusalem and Amman. He had a few weeks leave and did not have to return overseas again. He was stationed at Market Harborough and eventually demobbed.

We moved down the road to No. 18 to rent a large house but I agreed to look after two elderly gentlemen living there. On 9th June 1947 our second son was born and we named him Jack. The house was very large and had a beautiful garden. I gave up work for a while. I found that looking after three men, two children and a large house was as much as I could cope with. I used to entertain a great deal. When Jack was two years old I returned to work at the hospital. I did night work for two nights a week, and my sister Dorothy used to sleep at my house while I worked so that she was with the children until I got home. Bill had to go to work at 7am and did not return until 4.45pm. He worked for The Post Office as a telephone engineer. The pay was not high but the job was good security and it was interesting.

My friend Ursula from Hastings had a son and named him Roger and she eventually moved to Dover, and of course we still keep m touch.

Brother Jim married and had a daughter named Barbara. My sister Dorothy married John MacLean and also had a daughter named Esme. We all had lots of fun with our sons and daughters.

When my sons were older I returned to district nursing. I changed houses with a daughter of one of the elderly gentlemen, she had a council house. That meant that Bill and I were at last m our own home. Billy went to school opposite the house, and Jack went to a nursery while I did my district rounds. I had a cycle with a seat on the back for him to site on and after dropping him off at the nursery I went on my rounds. Eventually I took driving lessons, passed my test and bought a small Standard 8 car. Life was much easier driving to my patients. In wet weather the bicycle was a nightmare, I had a peak cap and the rain would drip off the peak onto my face. At least travelling by car you were warm and dry. I was allowed a petrol allowance, which also helped. Many of my patients were elderly and bed-ridden, and very alone at Christmas time. I would take Billy and Jack m the car with me and they would sing carols to the old folk. Billy had a very good voice, like his Dad, and sang m St. Lukes church choir. Jack's voice was not as good, but he had a cheeky race and the old folk loved him. Sometimes they would slip them a shilling when I wasn't looking and when they got back to the car they would say, "look what the lady gave me mum. "

While Billy was attending choir practice in St. Lukes church one Friday evening, he came home early and said the choirmaster had sent them all home, as they would not sing. They kept hearing a cat crying and told the choirmaster, who would not take any notice of the boys or go to investigate the noise. He swore at them and sent them all home. Billy was so worried that early on Saturday morning he and another boy went back to the church and found the cat trapped in the back of the organ. It was in a terrible state, starved and bedraggled. They took it to the Blue Cross Kennels, which was in Shooters Hill Road, where they were thanked for their efforts. Photographs were taken of them and there was an account of it in the local paper, and it even made the Sunday 'News of the World'. We were sent a small cheque, which we gave to the Blue Cross Kennels. The poor cat didn't survive its ordeal. Incidentally Bill took great delight in telling the choir master hat he thought of him for swearing at the boys in church.