High Explosive Bomb at Durnsford Road

In 1938, as Chamberlain flew to Munich I was evacuated to Wiltshire together with two of cousins. We were to stay with my auntie's sister. However, the crisis passed and I was back in Earlsfield a week later. But in 1939 as it became obvious that war was inevitable I was sent again to Wiltshire. This time I stayed for 3 months but I came home for Christmas and stayed home.

I can't remember whether it was just before my first or second evacuation that I witnessed the Irish navvies in Earlsfield digging the foundations for the shelters. However, a lot of the shelters including ours at home flooded and had to have a concrete wall built around the inside which made them smaller.

My cousin Ruth who had been evacuated with me returned to London a little later and she began work at Arding and Hobbs Department Store at Clapham Junction. She witnessed one of the early bombings at the back of the Store. It was terrible and very frightening.

The bomb which affected me most was probably a small one. It damaged a wall at the back of the former Workhouse in Swaffield Street in Earlsfield. The vibration knocked over a broom by the back door and the noise seemed to go on through my head.

Where there is now a block of flats, between Dingwall and Inman Roads in Earlsfield, a time-bomb fell and went off at about 2.00 a.m. This was in the middle of the Blitz on London. At one stage
a mysterious hole appeared in Inman Road near the junction with Wilna Road. The whole area was roped off as far as Dingwall Road. I think this turned out to be a shell.

One of the worst incidents was a direct hit on an Anderson Shelter at the corner of Bassingham Road, almost opposite the School. My father and our immediate neighbour, (one of the old-time railway guards), and his son who was home on leave from the Air Force went to help the local Air Raid Wardens to dig people out but alas - all dead. I don't think the Wardens got enough recognition for their work during the War.

After tbis incident my father insisted that my mother and myself be evacuated and my father telegraphed to my aunt's cousin and all the country-folk were on standby to receive us. As we left there was a time-bomb in Brocklebank Road, where the block of flats and modern houses now stand. While we were away yet another bomb wiped out houses in Earlsfield Road between Brocklebank and Dingwall Roads, (where the flats now back onto Dingwall Road.)

When I was back in London, one of the most terrifying nights was when a German plane was hit by our guns and we could hear it getting lower and lower. It came down in Merton Park. The younger generation now would no doubt think first of the pilot and crew but our first thoughts were that it was one less 'B' to bomb us. My father knew someone in that direction and we acquired a piece of metal from the plane. We kept this with a lump of jagged metal(shrapnel(?)), which fell with a thump in our garden one night. Both were kept for many years in our hall-stand until they smelled and went mouldy. Sometimes, I wish I had kept them to show my great-nephews or to give to the Wandsworth Museum in Garratt Lane.

At one stage during the War I was attending night-school on West Hill. As we left one evening the sirens sounded. My cousin Ed was going to Cadets nearby. With a barrage of guns sounding, Jerry appeared to be coming for us from the Richmond direction. I flew down Wandsworth High Street, followed by my cousin until I saw the Warden and asked where was the nearest shelter. We found it and tumbled in. Ed said: " I never knew you could run like that!" - but that is what fear does.

I belonged to the girl's club at my church, (Congregational), at the foot of Earlsfield Road. As we left one evening a Raid was hotting up and at first we ran to one of the girl's houses in Algarve Road. I think it was the grandmother who opened the door, but understandably, she did not want the responsibility of all of us, so several of us made for the main road and for a time took shelter in Earlsfield Station but with Jerry overhead this was not a good place to be, so we took our chances with the shrapnel and raced to one of the basement shelters below the shops in Garratt Lane.

My father worked in the Sorting Office,then at the High Street end of St. Anne's Hill. He cycled to work on his old bike. One evening he reached as far as Swaffield School and the frame of his bike split and he came off, shedding all his pens and pencils needed for his work. This in the middle of a Raid and in the Blackout!

Between short raids at night everyone used to go up and down the road looking for incendiaries. There was a contraption the Germans used, known as a 'Molotov Bread Basket'. This shed hundreds of incendiaries as opposed to High Explosive Incendiaries, (H.E.S.) The Church was damaged by one of these.

The German planes sometimes dropped Verey Lights earlier than the main night raids. They lit up the area. The Garratt Lane area towards King George's Park was a big factory area and therefore a target. There was a quieter period after I started work, between 1942-43. However, in one of Jeffrey Archer's books about a London Store one would think the war had ended as far as air raids were concerned but this was not the case.

Alas, there were even more terrifying times to come. In 1944 came the Flying Bombs, V.I.S. or Doodle Bugs, ( a nickname which stuck). I believe that Wandsworth together with Croydon, Lewisham, New Cross and Catford had the highest rate of V.I.S. No one could forget the terrible rattling sound and the engine cutting out. One counted to ten and if you were still alive you knew someone else had 'copped it'.

As the raids went on the piles of debris in the streets mounted higher and higher. One night, together with a friend I arrived at our stop - Brocklebank Road at Garratt Lane on the 77 bus. As we dismounted we could feel the silence that came after a bad attack. We feared the worst and asked someone: "Where did it fall?" The reply: Wilna Road. Our road. Fearing the very worst, my friend and I joined hands and turned the corner. Thank God! Our houses and folk were safe but at the bottom of the road all we could see was a mass of white helmets as the Wardens dug for any survivors. The windows in our house were all blown out but as I recall later replaced by the Royal Navy (?). My mother who had been at home at the time the bomb fell and who hated the Anderson Shelter had taken cover under the stairs. Her friend, Mrs Dell had just left the house when the raid started and only just made into her own home in Vanderbilt Road. I shall never forget that homecoming.

There was a big incident in Clapham Junction when a 77 bus was blown to bits. My father, then Assistant Head Postman at the West Central Post Office just missed catching this bus but caught the one behind and narrowly missed being killed himself. Apart from the bus and its passengers the bomb also destroyed Battersea Sorting Office at Lavender Hill and I believe, a gas main. My father said he would never forget it as long as he lived. He was asked to return to work - at the Lavender Hill Sorting Office and was back on duty even bfore they had finished clearing away the bodies - some of them no doubt his former colleagues.

Later during a lull and when I was working in the basement of the Music Shop in Holborn, I was about to go laden with the post to the Post Office further down High Holborn. I got as far as the foot of the stairs of the shop (all shop basements were shelters as well), when a V2 rocket landed further down the street. It blew in the windows of the shop. I was helping my manageress clear the window when my father came rushing along to see if I was safe, having heard where the incident was. I think it actually landed on an already bombed site. I remember going to the Post Office later that day,(life had to go on), and passing someone bleeding and in state of shock.

It was a good job that the Germans did not have those weapons at the time of Dunkirk, which the younger of my two brothers survived - just. He was missing for a few days. My elder brother, who had not passsed the forces medical tests acted as fire warden at the White Horse Whiskey premises underneath Waterloo Station, and Dad at Store Street Post Office, off Tottenham Court Road.

I feel my experiences of the War at Home are few compared to those of my sister-in-law and her sister. They used to travel from Peckham to Perivale,( a bomb alley), every day to the Hoover factory for war work all through the Blitz and the blackout. People talk about stress nowadays but I think those who worked in London or any big city during the War certainly had their fair share of it!

Before the bombing began the Council had been trying to move people if there was severe overcrowding in the house. A friend, one of a family of 10 was moved to then new Henry Prince Estate off Garratt Lane. He was killed in India on the last day of the War. He was training to be a fighter pilot.

Eileen Bicknell
Silver Circle Reading Group
Wandsworth Libraries

During the war I worked as a lift boy at a large block of flats about 100 yards away from the sea and my boss was an ex army man, a quarter master sergeant in the rifle brigade.

He called me down to the flat on the Sunday when I was on duty and said ‘listen lad, this is very important’ and the message came through from Neville Chamberlain that we had started the war against the Germans. The first thing that happened was within the hour the sirens warning went off and there was an aircraft heard. We heard the aircraft around but obviously they were just flying around and I’m sure it was a German aircraft. It was seen over St Leonards, very close. It didn’t take long really, the all clear went and then he got on to explain what could happen. In this block of flats they were a very reserved type of people there and they were back to back. There was a boiler house there and they said ‘look the first thing we are going to do’ he said ‘is we are going to breed some rabbits, so if food is short, we’ve got rabbits’. I didn’t live here at the flats at that time but that was his first thoughts on how we were going to eat when the rationing would come.

It was very shortly afterwards, within a couple of months that we were invaded by young children from London, the evacuees. They arrived one morning by train, the residents were asked to take the children in and give them a home. So we, my mother and my grandfather who we were living with, decided that we had a spare room and that we would take two children. We had two girls who came along. They were about 13, they came from Greenwich in London and it was for me, the 16 year old, great fun to have someone share the house, and someone to play around. It was really good to have someone else in the house but it wasn’t for long because as there was no activity in London. There were no expected air raids, their parents decided — most of them did this — at Christmas instead of just going home for Christmas, they didn’t come back. But of course we all know it wasn’t that long after that things started to hot up all round.

The next major thing happened that I remember is the boats coming over from Dunkirk and landing our troops back in this country who’d been serving in France. That is the first time that really things showed that there was something going on. The troops after landing, were in Bexhill, where the regiment were stationed. They stayed in some of the big hotels. Also some of the RAF came to do their training as pilots and aircrew. By the autumn there were notices up in the town that, (I think it was in mid-summer) that people, if they would like, they were encouraged to be evacuated themselves. My mother and grandfather went up and finished up near Trowbridge, away from the coastline. I didn’t want to go, so my boss said you can stay in the flats. We’ll fix up a couple of rooms down in the cellar, which was quite clear, nothing much in it. So we (his wife who died shortly before), so we both stayed down in the cellar in case of air raids. Mr Thatcher being an ex army man, he decided that he would invite some of the army boys on their evenings out or what not to come down into the flat we made in the cellar and play darts and cards and he would give them tea and coffee. So we had plenty of company. Most of the tenants had then gone and they just moved away keeping the flat on but they moved away to various areas in which they thought were safe in the country. One morning there were four or five of us, the postman had called in, Mr Thatcher and one or two of these lads and we were standing in the main hall, the siren went off and before we had time to move there was a terrific bang. Well it was never discovered exactly what had happened. Obviously there was a bomb dropped but it hadn’t hit anything. It had exploded before it reached the ground or it might have landed in the sea, but no crater was ever found. But it broke many of the plate glass windows in the flats and most of them were on the seaside of the building, so it could have been a blast bomb. But it meant a lot of tidying up for us to do to clear the glass away. That was a very fortunate thing for us, because it could have been very near. We often had hit and run raiders come in. They would fly in and by the time the sirens had gone they’d circle in on their way out so it didn’t give our aircraft, the Spitfires, time to get down from their airfield to keep them away before that, bombs had been dropped across the town. We had quite a few on the coast, Eastbourne, Hove, Hastings and I remember one particular occasion Bexhill had two or three bombs, one hit a local chemist shop and also one of the cleaners that were in the town. One of my friends who were at school with us, he worked in this dry cleaners and it was a direct hit so he was killed on that occasion. Blackey Barker we called him, he was quite a dark lad and it was a great shame. There were several other times hit and run raiders came in. One afternoon we had a Messerschmitt, the warning was on and we were down in the cellar and this Messerschmitt came in, or came through, obviously escorting some bombers and they were shooting their machine guns and I know I went up from the cellar and looked out and I was really torn off a strip for going out and having a look because later on when the all clear had gone we found some of the spent bullet shells and holes in the wall so I was very lucky. But my boss didn’t appreciate what I’d done and he really gave me the dressing down.

Another occasion, a little later on, I had to be home, to see if everything was o.k. and stayed the night and on the way back, there was an aircraft, a warning and an aircraft. We saw it was a clear morning, a clear moon up in the sky, it was quite early and I stopped and spoke to the milkman as I was going to work. We saw this aircraft circle round the moon and as we thought it was going away we both said ‘oh well it’s not dropped anything…’ we can hear bombs coming down. Well the nearest landed, to us, landed about 400 yards away and they dropped 13 bombs across the town. So it did quite a bit of damage. It just missed the town hall, there was quite a bit of damage there. There was several occasions when we had working in the town and living by the sea in this building that stood out, it was right next to the De La Warr Pavilion so several occasions that we had near misses around there.

One day there was a big fire next to the De La Warr Pavilion, the other side of where our flats were and it was the Metropole Hotel, which the air force had taken over. I still have pictures (small photos) of the fire at the Metropole but no one ever knew how it caught light. Whether it was carelessness by the forces or some kind of bomb but we never found out what caused it.

Of course being 17 there were several of us young lads who used to get around the place and I remember one evening, there were two of us just walking along the sea front and we came to the end, past the clock tower and to where what was called the flag staff where they put a siren up on the scaffolding. So in devilment we decided to climb the scaffolding not realising the problems we could have caused. As we were coming down the air raid warden was waiting for us. It was a very good job he knew us because he said we cold be blamed for trying to sabotage the siren that was up there so we got a good dressing down for that. He went up and had a look to make sure everything was working all right and I imagined it was working. It went off a few days later but when you’re young you do silly things and not realise what you’ve just done.

As I was then 17 ½ and not available, or not possible to go into the army or the forces because my eyes were not so good, I decided I would go to London to an engineering course and work in munitions so my boss wrote a letter to the minister for labour saying that I’d tried and nothing happened so he wrote to Aneurin Bevin and said that I wanted to serve my king and country and so within a week I was called to the labour exchange and fixed up to go on this course. I would be highly qualified to go into engineering. Well this I did and by November I went to Waddon training centre near Croydon and spent the next 3 months at this centre earning very little, just enough to pay some lodgings money. A lady and man that had this big house, there were about 20 people there lodging and most of the money that we earnt went to pay out for our digs. After going through the course, I got a good job in the company Phillips which was a big electrical engineering company and I thing it’s still going now, Phillips. That was only 3 or 4 miles cycle away from Waddon to Hatbridge, near Mitcham. I managed to get a job as an improver in their tool room, which was something well worth doing because I spent the rest of my life in engineering and doing tool grinding and tool making. So for me it was very good to do that but I still had one or two near misses when I was staying in Croydon.

I remember one day going to the cinema. I was on nights and going to the cinema on a Monday afternoon and my friend who had to work asked me if I could take his girlfriend to the pictures because he’s promised her that she would see this film and it was at the Davis Theatre in Croydon. In the middle of the film there was a terrific explosion, the siren had gone but nobody used to worry because we were inside. We didn’t think we would be any safer outside, the terrific explosion was in the front and fortunately for me I was fairly well back in the stalls and a bomb had gone through the roof down into the stalls but it didn’t explode but several people were killed on that occasion and I fell that, that was another life that I had had. I’ve been well looked after by someone above. So when I went out afterwards I realised that one of my friends daughters worked there as an usherette, so I looked around for her and found her and I went afterwards to see her father, saying that she was alright. But by the time I got back to the lodgings there had been a call for me from the Home Guard, which I had to join a few months before. This was to call me up into town with the rest and to patrol because there had been other bombs dropped and a certain amount of looting. I had quite a busy day that day. I didn’t go to work that night; well we were called out all night so we didn’t get away until the following morning.

One or two things I remember about being at Phillips. The first thing was that there was no proper air raid shelter in the actual company and not enough for everybody. So there were quite a few, it was all men in the department I was in and we used to go into one part where we thought it was reasonably safe when the siren had gone off. I was amazed all the young lads, most of them fairly young or less than 30’s anyway and we used to go down to this place and all the time that there was a warning on they would sing and it was really great friendship. It was good to hear all these men singing the popular songs of the day and some of the older songs such as Roses Are Blooming In Piccaddy and that type of thing as well as the popular shows at that time and the Holy City is another one that I remember. Another thing that I recall of the men in the tool room, on a Saturday before Christmas we always had the day off and we would go to Morden station but we all had to wear bowler hats which was great fun and travel up to London where we would see a show. Well before that we would go and have a meal and see a show and all the way up in the tube we would sing carols and it’s something to hear at that time anyway. We might have been noisy but we weren’t a rousy crew and people used to listen and laugh with us, then after seeing the show we would have something else to eat then go back to Wimbledon. Wimbledon Palais to a dance and that was an annual event that happened every year but of course some of the boys they lost their bowler hats. I know coming back and spending the day and not being used to hats like that many of them had to buy a bowler hat for the person that lent them their bowler hat.

After working at Phillips I had to do quite a bit of night work. So I decided a couple of times to cycle back down to Bexhill. Well it was quite a long journey, especially on a cycle without any extra gears or anything but the worst thing, I got lost several times because all the road signs were taken down because of the threat of invasion so it was very difficult unless you got to know the roads. You could easily turn off especially over the Ashdown Forest or somewhere like that but I know I was lost twice. The second time coming back I went on a slightly different road it was the weekend which they called the Big Fire in London and quite a few fire engines had gone up from the coast to help. The London Fire Brigade and on my way back on the Monday morning I met quite a few of them coming back towards the coast and it took me quite a while to get back and of course I had to go back to work in the evening so I made an early start getting back early afternoon and then going onto work about 7 o’clock.

Another memory I have of Croydon and the war. My landlady woke us up one night and said the sirens had gone and there were several aircraft about. While we were talking about it there was the sound of an aircraft as we thought and it suddenly went quiet and I remember saying ‘it’s alright it’s landed at Croydon Airport’ and then there was an explosion. What it was, it was the first night we had discovered that it was the fly bomb or Doodlebugs as they were called so I remember that first night and the bomb had only just landed 2 or 3 roads away. Shortly after that I remember particularly cycling home from work after doing just a Saturday morning and watching this fly bomb come over and what they did, when they cut out, it normally did a half circle turn back and then drop onto the ground. I remember this one flying across and praying that it wouldn’t cut out until it got past. Of course someone else would have got it and I was terribly worried at that moment that it could have done exactly the same and it would have been very much nearer.

One other very important thing happened quite late in the war. I met a girl at Phillips when I was working and she was working there and she later became my wife in 1946 and we were married for over 30 years before she died. So that practically concludes my wartime experience and I would like to say that VE Day or rather the day war finished, I spent at Phillips social club jollying it up with some friends. I went up to London and waved my flag and there were thousands of other people at VE Day and also I saw the big victory parade which they had after and when the generals of all the regiments paraded through the streets of London which was quite an exciting thing but that was a couple of years after the war.

There is just one other thing I have just remembered. It was while I was a Bexhill, it was about two years after the war had started. The first big raid by Germans on Croydon. I was going to see my friends at Sidley and the warning went and we could see in the clear sky it was a beautiful summers evening we could see clearly squadrons of German aircraft. The bombers flying in formation through to London we thought, well that was the beginning of the big bombing raids in London. They went in formation, they came back in formation but the only things we saw and know afterwards there were one or two of the fighters shot down not far from the coast. One near Catsfield so we know at least two were shot down and they still came back in that formation flight as they went out. I just remembered that when I saw it and I think that’s about all I can remember about the war.

Born in 1930, I was not really conscious of the events leading up to the Second World War but my memories of the war itself are very vivid. However I do clearly remember my father making a crude air raid shelter in our garden in Wimbledon in 1938. The shelter consisted of a deep trench (I can still see the yellow clay my father had to dig out to get sufficient depth) lined with wooden planks and covered with corrugated iron and a pile of earth on top. He made a small ladder for access. We were all issued with gas masks in cardboard boxes with a string loop on them so that they could be hung round our necks.
My first real war memory was being piled into our 1927 Austin 7 on the evening of September 1st.1939 and driven down to my grandparents at Didlington in Norfolk where my grandfather was the butler at the Hall. The car had no luggage rack so the back seat was removed to make space for the luggage and my brother and I sat on a suitcase together with our dog.
On the day war was declared there was an air raid warning at Didlington and I can remember standing on the front step with my grandfather looking for aircraft and brandishing my toy pistol.
For a few days it was just like being on our usual summer holiday but after a short time an elementary school from the east end of London arrived and was billeted in the villages and farms around Didlington. Some of the children were allocated to local village schools but in addition a two class school was set up in the unused tack room and the grooms' room in the stableyard at Didlington. My brother and I were allowed to attend this Didlington school along with the grandson of the head gamekeeper who had also been privately evacuated. He and I were the eldest boys in the school and we had interesting jobs like fetching a large container of hot water each morning break from the Hall kitchen to be used for making chocolate Horlicks which appeared to be issued by the government. Whatever happened to chocolate Horlicks ?- it was delicious! We also had to fetch bundles of kindling wood and help get the fires going in the two rooms. Apart from missing our father we really had a wonderful time. School seemed easy and I loved the country life. As a reward for collecting barrels full of acorns for feeding the estate's pigs, the owner of the Hall, a Colonel Smith, had a couple of swings and a seesaw made for the school. The winter of 1939/40 was particularly hard and we had several feet of snow which was great for the children. The lake in the Hall grounds froze over and we were allowed in once or twice to slide on the ice -nobody had skates.
I made my first contribution to the war effort that winter. I think it was the Women's Institute in the area which encouraged people to knit mittens for the North Sea trawlermen. My Grandfather and I took this up with help from my Grandmother and Mother and I produced 8 or 9 pairs of mittens and eventually graduated to socks. My Grandfather established some sort of record with his knitting and received an official commendation.
A few weeks after the birth of our youngest brother, my Mother went back to Wimbledon as there had been no air raids and the war was very quiet. My other brother and I were left at Didlington to avoid another change of school especially as I had to take the so-called Scholarship exams that summer.
Despite the fall of France and the very real prospect of a German invasion, we returned to Wimbledon, sometime in late June. I imagine it was a relief for our grandparents as they were 72 and 64 and it can't have been easy for them to look after us for that length of time. A large number of children evacuated in September 1939 had drifted back to London by the summer of 1940 .Many of my school mates from Wimbledon Park had been evacuated to Arundel in Sussex and it was probably as well that they had returned as much of the Battle of Britain was fought over Kent and East Sussex.
Before the new school year started (around the beginning of September), my new secondary School (Rutlish, of later John Major fame) was hit by a German bomb but only a small area was damaged and school started on time. This was the time of the Battle of Britain and we were frequently in the air raid shelters. At school these were brick constructions with thick concrete roofs set in the school yards. At home we had an Anderson shelter named after the Home Secretary of the Chamberlain government. This was like an igloo made of heavy corrugated iron though the floor shape was rectangular. It was intended to be half sunk in the ground. My Father excavated where our rockery had been and replaced the rockery on top to provide extra protection to the roof. Many people covered the roof with sand bags. He also built a sort of porch on ours to stop the rain coming in when the door was opened. Soon night bombing started so he made bunks for us in the shelter and we just went to bed there. My parents were very strict about our being in the shelter during air raids but I remember the day Croydon aerodrome was attacked and my father took me up to the top balcony of the block of flats close to our house to watch the dogfights over Croydon. In fact all I saw were a few black and silver dots milling around as it was all happening 7 or 8 miles away .
We soon learned to judge how close the raids were to us from the sound of the anti- aircraft guns. A particularly noisy one was mounted on a railway truck and used to move along the line which ran about 80 metres from our house.
The intensity of the night bombing increased through September and October. Locally a public air raid shelter received a direct hit causing many casualties. In October the government organised another evacuation. Although my brother and I were now at different schools it was customary for siblings to be evacuated together so one morning we found ourselves on a railway platform (probably at Wimbledon but I'm not sure) with hundreds of other children. On our backs were small khaki-coloured rucksacks which my Mother had made for us and hung round our necks were our gas masks and a name tag. I can't remember whether we had any other luggage but later when travelling from our place of evacuation to my grandparents in Norfolk I certainly remember struggling with a (to me) large suitcase across Peterborough en route from one station to another.
Neither we nor our parents had any idea where we were going but my Mother had given me a stamped, addressed postcard to be sent as soon as we had our new address. Sometime that afternoon we arrived at a small station and were told to leave the train. There were probably 15 to 20 of us but only one other Rutlish cap to be seen. I didn't know the boy ,who was about three years older than I was. He also had a small brother in tow. A party of ladies, some in WVS uniforms, greeted us and gradually, one by one, the children disappeared. We and the other pair seemed to be the last to be selected but eventually someone said they would have us and we were taken off .
Our foster home was with a teacher and his wife in Glapthorn road, Oundle, Northants. The husband taught German and I think, French, at the Oundle public school. The house seemed quite large and we had a bedroom on the ground floor in a sort of extension which also contained a bathroom. The family had a small daughter about 2 years old who was looked after by a nanny. We and the daughter always ate in the kitchen supervised by the nanny and rarely saw the parents. We never ate with them and never went into their sitting room.It was very different from the loving family surroundings we were used to and I'm sure my 6 year old brother was pretty unhappy. We weren't treated badly by them apart from one occasion when the mother beat my brother with the handle of the bathroom brush because he hadn't cleaned the bath properly. Thereafter I had to make sure it was cleaned. It was during this period that the habit of writing home once a week was established and it remained with me until my mother died in1972.
My brother went to a local elementary school and I went to Laxton Grammar school which predated the public school but now shared some of the staff and facilities and had the same official headmaster . Having many of the advantages of the public school was a great plus in my parents' eyes and I think that was why they left me there for three years.
My Father came to visit us before Christmas (1940) and decided that my brother shouldn't stay. I can't remember whether he took him away there and then but he certainly didn't return after Christmas which we spent at Didlington. By this time my Mother and baby brother were living at Didlington again.
Whether it was just before or just after Christmas I can't be certain but the family I was billeted with were expecting another child and decided they couldn't cope with an evacuee as well. I was billeted temporarily with the manager of the local gasworks. This was a very kind and welcoming family and I was sorry the arrangement only lasted about three weeks. The house was lit with gas lamps which was a novelty for me. I remember being taught to play 'Bezique' by the family.
My next billet was in the centre of town with the manager of one of the main banks. The house was alongside and over the top of the bank with three stories so it was quite large. Close by was a large wooden ‘thermometer’ which recorded the town’s savings contributions towards paying for new Spitfires which I believe were reputed to cost £55,000 each.
This family treated me very well and despite a significant 'class' difference I was fairly happy with them. I was regarded as part of the family and received Christmas and birthday presents from them. They had three children, one already in the army, the second(17 in 1941) at the public school 'Blundell's' in Somerset and a daughter (about 13) who was at a boarding school a couple of hours journey from Oundle. I was given the 'boys' bedroom which had bunk beds and shared it with the second boy when he was at home. I got on well with him and looked up to him. I copied his habit of always washing in cold water in the morning and I still do. I can remember his scorn when he found that I wore my vest (woollen in winter) in bed and I immediately stopped ! He went into the RAF to train as a pilot whilst I was there and I can still see him flying over Oundle in a Tiger Moth and waggling the wings at the time he passed the first stage of training.
During the week I had my tea in the kitchen on my own or with the daughter if she was at home as the Laughtons had dinner in the evening but on Sundays we all ate together at midday. I only had two real complaints .One was that I had to use a bathroom on the top floor that was always freezing cold and the second was that I never had my butter ration and had to make do with margarine. For some reason it was decreed that the parents needed the butter - the children lost their ration too.
The bank manager was in charge of the local Observer Corps unit. These units were made up of civilians operating part-time who were trained in aircraft recognition. They manned posts all over the country and formed part of the air defence system. I was mad keen on aircraft and sometimes I was taken to the observer post. Eventually I passed the Air Spotter exam but was too young to join the corps.
I stayed with this family for two years except for school holidays when I went to my grandparents at Didlington. The journey there was an adventure for an 11/12 year old. Oundle station is some distance from the town and buses were few and far between so it was a struggle to get there with a largish suitcase. From there the train took me to Peterborough where there was another struggle with the suitcase as I had to change stations (about a mile apart) for the train to Brandon which is 9 miles from Didlington. The last bit was a great relief as I was driven in style by the Smiths' chauffeur.
During the Easter and summer holidays I worked on a farm on Didlington estate and received the special farmworker’s food ration which included extra cheese! Most of the work was pretty boring, singling sugar beet plants in the spring and hoeing out the weeds in the summer. However, harvesting the corn was much better. Mostly, it was stooking the sheaves dropped by the 'binder' but when a field was almost cut, there was the great fun of chasing the rabbits which had gathered in the centre. The farmer had a greyhound which caught most of them but I and the farmer's son usually got one or two. My weapon was one of my Grandfather’s walking sticks. Sometimes we were disappointed when men turned up with guns.
Sometime in 1941/42 the Army took over part of the Hall and estate as headquarters of Eastern Command and part of the 52nd (Lowland) division was stationed there in Nissen huts in the woods. My grandparents had a Major billeted with them. There was a Naafi hut and local people, including me occasionally, served chocolate and drinks in the evenings.
Overall, my time at Laxton school was fairly easy and enjoyable although in retrospect the education I received left much to be desired. For some reason the first form was called the third and I started there but after a couple of weeks I and another evacuee were promoted to the fourth form. This was good for the ego but bad because we were much younger than the rest of the form. The school was small with just four forms( 3rd., 4th., 5B, & 5A) and four or five 6th. formers who took all their lessons in the public school.The school plan was to get pupils to School Certificate (equivalent of "o" levels) in 8 subjects in 4 years and then for further subjects to be taken along with the chosen 'Higher Certificate' subjects in the public school. This was fine for pupils who stayed at Laxton but caused problems for those like me who changed schools .
Two of our teachers we understood to have been invalided out of the army with shell-shock. They were clearly disturbed , had no control of the classes and spent much of the time gazing out the window. I don't think it was coincidence that the two subjects (Physics & Applied Maths) I failed in my School Certificate were taught by one of these masters..
We had school six days a week and 'town ' boys had supervised 'prep' in the evenings except on Saturdays. Wednesday and Saturday afternoons were for compulsory games. Although we were associated with the public school we were very much second class citizens. We couldn't use their playing fields or games coaches and played soccer not rugger. We weren't part of the 'house' system and never played with or against them. As a consequence of this and the absence of most able-bodied teachers in the forces we had no coaching unless we were naturally good enough for the school team which the Laxton headmaster struggled manfully to help. The one concession we did have was one hour a week's use of the open air, unheated, swimming pool. Once the water temperature reached 52F we were expected to go swimming.
One exciting event for the small boys of Oundle was the arrival of the American Army setting up an air base near the village of Barnwell (I think). They seemed generous lot and for many years I cherished a baseball thrown to me from a passing truck.
Laxton school ran a small Scout troop which I joined and enjoyed very much. It was run by the English master who was quite young and had been invalided out of the forces but we never knew the reason. Under him a few of us became 'Firewatchers'. Once a month (I think) two of us plus the master spent the night in a room near the top of the highest building in Oundle and had there been an air raid warning we would have stood on the roof to watch out for fires. Of course there never was an air raid but it was fun for us to stay up late, play cards and drink cocoa. At the end of 1942 the bank manager and his wife decided they could no longer keep me (I never heard the reason) and I went back to the teacher and his wife.. There was a live in nanny to look after the two little girls and I resumed my life with them in the kitchen. To be fair I did have a reasonable bedroom to myself.I was well looked after but again saw almost nothing of the parents. I stayed with them until the summer of 1943 and then returned home to Wimbledon after taking the School certificate exams. I had failed Physics and Advanced Maths, the two subjects 'taught' by a shell-shocked teacher, but the remaining six subjects were enough to give me my 'Matriculation' which was essential for eventual entry to University.
I now went back to Rutlish school.I suppose I wasn't really happy with this first year back at Rutlish. I didn't know anyone there, all my class-mates were one to two years older than I and I was a small fish in a much bigger pond than at Laxton. Sport was a problem too because I'd missed the forms where one had general coaching and hadn't the natural talent to get into a school team without. Another problem for me was that my father refused to let me join the school Army Corps in which most of my class mates were active. My father’s expressed reason was that with Scouts and the Church Youth club which I Joined when I was 14, provided plenty to fill my time.
The consequence of all this was that I found my friends, recreation and sport largely through old Wimbledon Park contacts who either went to other schools or were two years behind me at Rutlish.
By the end of 1943 the tide of the war was gradually moving our way, at least in the west. There were very few air raids but on one occasion during that winter the Germans made a short but fierce night incendiary bomb raid on London during which a "stick" of bombs fell near us. Most of them fell harmlessly in the cemetery next door but one hit our wooden garage and set it on fire. We, apart from my father, were in our Anderson shelter in the garden and our main concern was for our dog who was in the garage with a litter of puppies. There was no car in it as petrol was only available for ‘essential purposes’ and my father had sold the Austin 7 for £11! My father was captain of the street 'fire-fighting team' and they held their practices in our garden because it was the largest in the street. This meant they knew where everything was and were able to tackle the blaze quickly and put it out without too much damage. My father had dived in at the beginning and thrown the box of puppies into the garden. I was very frustrated at being kept in the shelter and missing all the excitement. Apart from a hole in the garage roof the main damage was to our bikes. Father's was a write-off as it had a direct hit. My Mother and I lost our celluloid mudguards and saddle-bags and I had a jagged hole in the rim of my rear wheel caused by an anti-personnel bullet which fired out of the fin of that particular type of bomb. That was my trophy of war for several years - it didn't affect the running of the bike.
1944 was, of course, the year of the D-Day landings in Normandy and like many other boys I had a large map of the area on my bedroom wall and moved little flags on it as the battles progressed. However the more immediate event for us was the start of the 'Doodle -Bug' ( V1or Flying- bomb) attacks on London and the south-east of England early in the summer. I can remember the first day absolutely clearly as it was one of the two occasions during the war on which I was really frightened. It must have been a weekend as I was on Wimbledon Common with two friends when the sirens went . We didn't take much notice as there hadn't been a daylight raid for literally years and we thought it must be a false alarm. Then we heard a very odd aircraft engine noise and suddenly all hell was let loose. By this time London had enormous numbers of anti-aircraft gun and rocket batteries all over it, including a naval gun turret on the Common a few hundred yards from where we were. It seemed as though every gun and rocket in London was firing at this 'attacker' but the really frightening thing was the sound of the shrapnel from the spent anti-aircraft shells hissing through the air all round us. We dived into a ditch and lay there with our hands over our heads for what seemed ages. The strange engine noise became louder and then suddenly stopped. We looked up in time to see an odd looking plane dive into the ground a mile or so away with a huge explosion. We heard on the news that night that large numbers of people had been injured by shrapnel - many more than by the bomb. It was soon realised that it was no good trying to shoot the V1s down over London as they'd explode when they crashed anyway, so very rapidly all the moveable guns were taken to the south coast to try to catch them over the sea. The situation in London then seemed eerie when a V1 got through as we just had to listen for the engine to cut out and guess where it would crash and no-one could do anything about it. My second moment of terror was one evening when a friend and I were out on our bikes . We heard a doodle bug and set off towards the nearest public shelter. Just before we got there the engine cut and we were certain it was right overhead. We hurled ourselves through the door of the shelter on to the floor followed by a man with the same conviction. Fortunately for us the V1 fell about half a mile away and we were only shaken. Two V1s fell fairly near our house and both times we had cracked window panes and some roof tiles displaced.
Shortly after the second of these came my third evacuation and my brother Michael and I were once again shipped off to our grandparents who were now living at Abergavenny in Monmouthshire where the Smiths had rented a house following the total requisitioning of Didlington by the army in1943. (It had become the headquarters for the 2nd Army in the lead up to D-Day in Normandy). This gave us a three month summer holiday in idyllic surroundings and I was particularly pleased not to be with my class mates who were sitting in the school air raid shelters taking their School Certificate exams.
During the school summer holiday the Science block and junior form rooms at Rutlish were hit by a V1 and completely demolished and most of the windows in the rest of the school were blown out. There was no glass available to replace them and as a consequence we had to wear overcoats and gloves in the classrooms for much of the winter. We also had to share the science labs of the Technical School a few hundred yards away.
By this time the launching area for the V1s had been over run by our troops and the only danger to Londoners now was from the V2 rockets which arrived without warning and caused great devastation but were too few in number to have a serious effect on the population as a whole
The last wartime excitements were the VE day celebrations, especially the fireworks, though my personal memory of that day was dominated by a severe bicycle accident which nearly prevented my participation in any of the revelries.
My lasting impressions of the war are of exciting events. Even as fifteen year old in 1945, the horror of war didn’t strike home and none of our family or friends were bereaved or suffered serious injury.

.

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Anne Tester. She fully understands the site's terms and conditions

Memories of the second world war through the eyes of an 8 -14 year old.

Southfields, London. 1939.

As an eight year old, growing up in London, I was first aware that something was threatening our serene life at home in Southfields, when our local park, Wimbledon Park, was suddenly dug up and an underground air raid shelter, complete with sandbags, was built in the middle of the grass. At the same time a battery of search lights was placed at the entrance to the drive to our school, Riversdale School in Southfields and barrage balloons appeared in the sky overhead. We were all issued with gas masks in brown cardboard boxes and I can remember the tinge of resentment because my sister was young enough to have a Micky Mouse one!
There was then real concern in the family (as carefully hidden from my sister and me as possible) when a letter from school informed my parents that we were to be evacuated to Guildford to live with a family there. With this letter came a list of requirements we had to take including a grey blanket (always a puzzle to me as I had never seen one) My sister was five years old and therefore my mother was allowed to accompany us to Guilford but of course leaving my father on his own in London. As he had served in the first world war he was just too old to be ‘called up’ for this war.
Unknown to me, and never really discovered because my mother never liked talking about those years, arrangements were made for my sister and me to go and stay with my aunt and uncle in Countesthorpe just until the threat of war had subsided (as was the common feeling at that time).

Countesthorpe, Leicestershire July 1939.

We were driven in another uncle’s car up to Countesthorpe, leaving my parents in London and I can well remember feeling very car sick and missing my teddybear which had been left behind in London. It was later sent to me by post after I had written a forlorn letter to my parents to say I wanted to come back to them. (I still have that letter which was saved by my mother and will stay in the family archives). It was also the first time I had seen a level crossing, probably the one in Station Road in Countesthorpe and also fields and cows other than from a train.
Apparently we were quite a curiosity in the village as we spoke with a London accent and because we had arrived before any of the real evacuees, very few people had met any strangers. A little girl, called Iris, came as an evacuee to the house next door some time afterwards and I expect other children were evacuated to the village later but I was not made aware of them.

The start of the war

The war did break out and we had to continue to stay with my aunt, uncle, cousin and grandparents in the house, called St Donats, in Willoughby Road, opposite Clark’s Farm. We had such a lot of freedom compared with our life in London and were able to walk around at will and enjoy such things as viewing the steam train as it left Countesthorpe station with its smoke billowing out. The trick was to wait until the engine disappeared under the bridge then rush to the other side in time to see it emerge. The fun was to be quick enough to be engulfed by all the smoke!
In the spring the embankment was covered with cowslips which we used to pick and on the lawns of some of the houses built along the line those cowslips still appear. Another event that occurred in the spring was the annual mass movement of frogs to and from the old brick quarry next to the railway line. I think they must have moved across to the farm pond in the Cottage Homes farm and in the process many were squashed on the road. It proved how many more frogs there were in those days.
As we were so near to the farm we were also given the freedom to wander round and look at the animals. We learnt to take the cows round to the fields in the lane, feed the calves and hens, milk the cows and join in the haymaking. Herbert Clark, the farmer, had an old white horse which was used for all the farm work including the haymaking when he pulled a mechanical rake to gather the hay. The rake was curved and operated with a long handled lever. We were allowed to ride on this piece of machinery and pull up the handle when instructed. Of special interest to us as children was the history of the horse, called Bob, because he had survived the first world war and still had shrapnel showing below his skin! He had previously worked at Western Park in Leicester, so we were told. Being close to animals with fields to roam in, muck heaps to slide down and dens to build I am sure helped to take away the pain of separation from our parents.
But I was very homesick and constantly worrying, as I picked up bits of news from the conversation around us but I did not know enough to be able to ask questions. Children accepted that adults had a world of their own and were not told too much for fear of upsetting them.
As well as the strain of being away from our parents there were some bewildering things happening around us which must have caused some anxiety too. We saw Spitfires fly low overhead and were told that the brother of our neighbour was the pilot of one of them which was a thrill but for a couple of children who had probably never seen a plane so close before also very strange.
Those same neighbours turned their tennis court into a chicken run (such was the need to produce food) and we were always having to apologise to them when our fox terrier, Buster, chased and sometimes caught one of their hens. We were on a constant state of alert to make sure he did not get out, not only for the sake of the hens but because he and the collie in the farm opposite were on deadly fighting terms. Such were the lengths to which they would go to establish their superiority that an arrangement was made for the farm dog to be out in the morning and for our dog to be out in the afternoon. How peaceful our dogs are these days, taken for walks and quite content to stay in their gardens. Maybe the owners are more responsible these days or was it part of the upheaval of the war?
Other strange activities included the strengthening the garage with extra wooden beams, the windows covered with strips of tape to prevent the shattering of glass and the curtains lined with blackout material. We had to be very strict about letting lights shine from the windows at night.
With the increasing threat of bombing my uncle set about building an air raid shelter inside the house and the dining room floor was dug up. The shelter was built with bricks and concrete with a reinforced roof and steps down into the inside. I think it was called a Morrison shelter. It was a great place to play both inside and on top as it was about 4ft. high and 2ft. deep but I don’t remember ever having to use it as an air raid shelter.
We had a game based around our doll’s house which had been made by my father from wooden boxes, decorated and furnished by my mother and carried by them both on the train up from London on the first Christmas of the war. It had lights powered by batteries (double ones with a 2 inch piece of connecting metal on the side) and curtains that could be drawn across the windows. With it we played out all the wartime activities that were part of our ordinary lives and the games always featured an irate warden(always played by my cousin), who would shout at us to ‘put those lights out!’
We also played with armies of tin soldiers and guns that fired match sticks, a game instigated by my cousin who was slightly older than us. He had a ready audience in the two of us and these games and the knowledge he had of the countryside (I learned the names of many birds, trees and flowers) added a lot of interest to our disrupted lives. I could point out to this day the spot along Banbury Lane where we used to set out the battle scenes in the ditch. These would be left there overnight and then we would return next day to continue our game.
I learned to climb trees and on achieving a certain height was allowed to carve my initials on the tree. A particular willow on the bend in the lane leading to Cheney’s farm proved too difficult for me to climb because it had no lower branches and was the sole province of my cousin and some of his friends.
All these exploits were, I think, only in the early days of the war because as the war progressed, there was greater threat of attack and we had to keep nearer to home. We were also restricted as to where we could walk and we were not allowed to go beyond the crossroads of the two lanes in Willoughby Road without a pass. At the junction of the lanes in the field to the left of Willoughby Road there was a searchlight station which may have been why Willoughby was ‘out of bounds’. The city of Leicester did receive some daytime bombing but I only remember hearing an air raid warning during the day on one occasion when we had to go into the garage. I still hate to hear that noise.

Going to school

Our school was a County school, on the corner of Foston Road, Countesthorpe. It had a large room for the 5-7 year olds and two other rooms divided by a wood and glass partition for the older children up to the age of 11 years. There was a tarmac playground in the front of the building and another at the back and brick lavatories outside near the neighbouring house. I have a recollection of them being cold and dark and wet!
I remember little of our lessons except using slate boards to write on and the horrible noise they made as you scraped away. We did have handwriting classes and my memory has been jogged by childhood feelings of embarrassment. The teacher would write on the blackboard a letter of the alphabet and to illustrate how your writing should ‘flow’, she would say ‘your writing should go on and on and on’. As my name at that time was Anne Donne, this always made the class giggle.
The desks were made for two children to sit at with the seat attached to the desk and it had ink wells which were not used and lift-up lids. I always liked to tidy out my desk, a task I seem to remember was left until Friday afternoon. I have vague memories, too of P.T. in the playground which consisted of very formal exercises involving the arms and legs all moving in a uniform fashion and I remember my difficulty in trying to keep up with all the others.
I remember, too, taking a contribution each Monday morning for my National Savings Certificates, of games in the playground such as Oranges and Lemons and hating to get caught and of funerals passing by on the way to the cemetery when we all had to stand still and the boys took off their caps.
Typical of childhood memories, always focussed on food, I remember having to walk home to Willoughby Road for lunch and then walk back again for afternoon school. When winter arrived and it was not suitable to walk all that way (we were probably further away than most children) we brought an egg and bread and our kind teacher cooked us scramble egg on the top of the tortoise stove in our classroom.(the only form of heat) Later a kitchen was built onto the school and I was very impressed with the chocolate pudding that was included in the introductory menu we had to take home! I never did have a meal from that kitchen as I was then old enough to go to the secondary school but my sister did.

Re-united with our parents

When my parents left London they came to live with us until they found a house to rent. Houses to rent were in short supply especially as my parents were looking for something in the area of Countesthorpe with a garden and it was only by luck that they spotted a house in Winchester Road as they went by on the bus. The house had been rented out before and was in good condition by the standards of those days. It had a bathroom and indoor toilet and three bedrooms and a lovely long garden backing onto open fields which stretched across to the village. There were open fields to the front too and still are.
I loved the garden and so did my father who set about growing all the vegetables he could to give us some variety in our diets. Everything that could not be eaten was composted and he saved his own seed. He only bought the odd plant from such places as Woolsworths as there were no garden centres and nurseries were expensive as well as being inaccessible unless within cycling distance. The government booklet ’Dig for Victory’ urged everyone to grow their own vegetables and flower borders were sacrificed to provide food. We did not, for some reason have hens, unlike many other people, and I can only think that neither parent would have been able to face killing them when the time came.
My father was so good at economising, using up any pieces of wood to make little cupboards, stools and toys or repairs to the house. He repaired our shoes and cut our hair, collected stones from the garden to make a terrace and path down the garden so that my mother could hang out the washing and saved all the spare pieces of grass to make a lawn.
My mother also liked gardening but the burden of coping with household tasks took up most of her time. Washing the clothes consisted of boiling them in a galvanised boiler in the corner of the kitchen which was heated by gas. They were then lifted into the sink for rinsing and put through a mangle which had to be anchored to the edge of the sink. It was exhausting and time consuming, filled the non-centrally heated house with steam and because there was a need to use everything to its utmost, was followed by extensive cleaning to use up the valuable hot, soapy water. Condensation in the house was always a problem and the airing of clothes and beds a constant priority with glazed pottery hot water bottles very much in use.
Coal fires created dust and had to be cleaned out, wooden and tiled floors had to be mopped or scrubbed and rugs shaken in the garden as there was no such thing in our household as a vacuum cleaner. I remember having to step onto newspaper when the floor had been scrubbed in order to keep it clean as long as possible and certainly until it was dry as so much energy had gone into the cleaning of it. Incidentally, coal fires created dirt everywhere and after visiting the town, our feet would be quite black with the dirt we had picked up.
Economising was a way of life for everyone and of course was entirely accepted by us, as children. There were not the goods in the shops to tempt us and we rarely visited Leicester although there was a regular bus service.
We made our own decorations for Christmas out of pieces of coloured paper, used up any fabric which we could find for rugs for the floor, unpicked knitted garments and re- knitted them. Except for school uniform, our clothes were all home made using a treadle sewing machine, very often from used material and nothing was wasted. This has had an everlasting influence on me and I still see possibilities for a use in all sorts of objects and materials. All this was widely accepted during the war and continued long afterwards as well when supplies of materials were almost nonexistent.

The following is an actual account of my mothers introduction into military service in WW2. She had been writing this for some years before she passed away in 1997 and therefore sadly never managed to finish her lifes work. It was all hand written and I put it onto computer last year (at an average of 15 wpm!). It basically tells her story of her military service up to when she was promoted to a cook. Apart from using Molly as her name all other people mentioned have their real names or nicknames used.
It starts at chapter 11 when her mum Jesse finds out she, Molly, has joined up in Wandsworth, England.

Chapter 11

Jessies Shock

Mollys friend Lily a perky faced sixteen years old all of 4ft 10in in her stockingd feet found themselves turning in the entrance to a new building. High on a board there was a poster with a young woman blowing a bugle with a banner underneath displayed on the banner was a cross in red. This is it said Lil. They climbed the steps and pushed open the main door.This must be the entrance hall, said Lil. The walls were covered in posters and there were several doors leading off the entrance hall. Lily timidly pushed one door open, withdrew and whispered No one there. Molly crept to the next one, Not there, said Lil look it says gents. Molly looked up and squinted Oh yes with a giggle said,lets try here she pushed a pair of double doors open, Nothing in there only a ruddy great dance hall. Wheres that go, Lil pointed to a staircase. That must be it, look that notice first floor enrolment room the nurses must be up there.
With bated breath, they straightened their hats, forged ahead to the unknown. Molly timidly tapped on the door, a voice called out Come in As the door opened the brightness of the room startled her. She and Lily had been expecting rolls of bandages and stretchers slings but these were nowhere to be seen. The room contained a highly polished desk. Sitting at the desk underneath a powerful electric light bulb sat a woman of huge proportions. She was dressed in a kind of uniform which her brothers had worn when on leave but this persons outfit was obviously of much grander material. Upon her left breast there were some decorations and upon her shoulders and down the front of her jacket there were some of the brightest brass buttons one had ever seen, enhanced more so by the dazzling light. So sorry, weve come to the wrong room stammered Molly trying to hide her embarrassment. Come in my dears come in and let me help you said the company commander as Molly was to find out before long. Have you come to join us my dears The C.C. opened her arms wide and with a smile almost as wide urged them both to take a seat in front of the desk.
Well we came looking for the place where you learn first aid said Lil. Then you have come to the right place answered the most charming creature behind the desk. Molly recalled the woman certainly knew how to put one at ones ease. Molly in latter years looking back could almost visualise that officers thoughts of how shed got a right couple of nannas here to deal with. We do weekly sessions of first aid, a most valuable asset as you'll agree. Later on you will be issued with a uniform once we have got your measurements. The shoes are easier my assistant will show you into room 6 where you can both collect a pair after you have signed the forms. Shoes gasped Molly and Lil. We have no money to pay for shoes, just a little weve saved to join the club. Not a thing to pay for dears everything is free. Molly glanced at Lil (exchanged glances) whatever next, this must be a lovely club to belong to. Just sign on the dotted line my dears repeat after me and you will be doing your king and country a wonderful service! Dazed by all this goodwill and being accepted so warmly almost hypnotised Molly and Lil, they automatically signed the papers and sat back to here the date of the first meeting. Friday evenings at seven o'clock prompt, now collect your shoes from room 6, you will meet lots more Territorials.
Still dazzled by all the brightness and good will Molly and Lil were shown by her aide to room 6. Here they were issued with a pair of heavy leather lace up shoes. They will be rather hard to get used to at first, but here is a tin of dubbin to rub well into them as often as you can. This will help to soften the leather, said the person issuing the shoes.
Goodbye, see you with the rest of the new recruits on Friday at 7 o'clock prompt the door was opened for them on that occasion as if they were two VIPs and they both beat a hasty retreat clutching their shoes.
After they had gone several paces down the road towards home both deep in thought, Molly and Lil came suddenly to a complete halt and said as though in one voice TERRITORIALS! Never heard of them, I haven't said Lil Nor me replied Molly. Should'nt it have been Red Cross Territorials asked Lil. Well I can remember her saying something about volunteer auxiliaries and that we will be taught first aid and that it was now under another name replied Molly. Didn't expect to get any shoes did you Lil? No bit clumpy aint they, but I suppose this stuffle work. What was that bit about softening them up for marching. Do nurses march?
Well we had money to join but we never expected to get a Bob and a pair of shoes er boots more like it said Lil. No it can't be such a bad club to belong to then, said Molly eh? They arrived outside the entrance to Mollys flats. Coming in Lil, No, I'd better get back and show my mum my shoes, Ta-ra for now, see you in the morning then we can talk on the way to work. Molly wished her cheerio then and made her way to her front door. In answer to her knock her mother opened the door. Broad smiles were exchanged between them. How'd you get on luv said mum. Then she saw the box holding the shoes. What's this? You'll never guess mum, we've joined a right good club. They paid us a Bob and gave us a pair of shoes, aint that grand, and whats more we are going to get a smart uniform later on when they've had time to make them.
Molly's voice froze in her mouth at the look on her mothers face. For what seemed like several minutes but could have been no more than seconds there was complete silence in the room. Jesses hand had flown to her face covering her mouth. Her brows were knitting together in a deep frown of perplexity. She looked across at Bert, Molly&'s gaze followed her and she saw her father sitting bolt upright in his chair by the fire. Whats this all about? said he stopping dead in his tracks with his Woodbine dog-end halfway to his lips. My gawd, Bert what've they been and gorn and done, the silly bitches! Red Cross, I told you Red Cross first aid, you remember up at the hall, like Mrs Murphy said they wanted? Well mum, and here Molly swallowed deeply, she had the foreboding all hadn't got according to her mothers plan. The only room there with anyone in was this lady. She hadn't a nurses uniform on but it did look nice and shiny, like a soldiers only better. She was so nice really. She said we would be quite good enough. Lily is a bit small and I am not sixteen yet but she said that she could make that OK and let us join. Let you join be buggered, her mother said now beginning to get her temper up. What did you say it was called Auxiliary Volunteer Service, we've got to meet the new Territorial recruits next Friday. Thats it then gel they've joined the Terriers by the sounds of it, said Bert, Shes under sixteen, lets get her out, said Jess anxiously to Bert.
Oh no, said Molly, turning to Lil after all, Lil's me mate and she is just sixteen and I did say we'd go together. Well, said Jess, It is peacetime anyway and its true it will be somewhere for you and Lil to go every Friday and you can learn first aid. She nodded and winked at Bert. Now that her mother had got over the initial shock Molly recalled the fact that they had been told there were many other duties that they would find very interesting. In fact Molly and Lil began to look forward to the following Friday night.
Friday night came and with some intrepidation Molly and Lil wended there way along to the hall to find out what this first aid business was all about. They arrived to find several other girls and women of all different age groups gathered in the hall. As weeks went by Molly found she was the youngest of the squad. The evening passed all too quickly. They were told they would be instructed in discipline, marching, first aid, and various duties, including rifle drill. Rifle drill! Molly and Lil looked at each other. Cor thats a bit stong eh, unless you shot em first, then applied the first aid. Whatever the were in for it certainly would be an interesting Friday evening and as mum said Oh Chamberlain has signed the peace pact now, it will be somewhere for her to go Bert instead of getting left on the shelf reading a book eh?. The weeks went by smoothly enough. In Molly's household the world news was rarely discussed in depth, as indeed it wasn't in most working class households where they were going at the weekend, if they could afford to go to the flicks or even a trip occasionally to the local dance hall seemed to bb the extent of the conversation for the less well educated teenagers. Molly and Lil had been promoted to machines in the laundry. Lil worked a heated machine, which as she put it ironed mens dickeys. That was a nickname given to the front of a mans shirt unattached to a white shirt. This front was heavily starched. Placed whilst still very damp on a flat machine. Then by pressing a pedal the cover was dropped down to stiffen the dickey. Molly ironed the collars. Her machine slid from side to side giving the collars a high polish. One set of collars Molly ironed she noticed had the name Ribbentrop printed inside the band.
One Friday evening the members of the Auxiliary T.S. were given instructions on what to do if they received their enlistment telegrams. Molly recalled how there was a mixed reaction to the announcement from the commandant. She realised (in later years) the less well educated of the women's squad were taken aback more so than the better educated. Several of the women came from well to do homes, where world affairs were discussed over dinner table and in the office. The news came as no surprise to them. Others such herself and Lily whose parents were struggling to make a living, never bothered to read the newspaper to the extent to suspect anything between the lines. The football pools results and bits of scandal were as far as they got.
The recruits had been selected who were going to be given a rank. They were about fifty women of various ages. They appointed four sergeants, four corporals and four lance corporals. They had been the first to receive their uniforms. The rest were informed their uniforms were coming along shortly, to compensate for using their own civvies they would each receive a few pence army pay.
Low and behold the very next week the telegram arrived instructing Molly she must report to the hall ready to depart to an unknown destination. Molly's life had been very hum-drum and although the last thing she wanted to happen was a war she felt fluttering of nervous butterflies in the pit of her stomach but at the same time nervous excitement at the prospects of being transported to a far off land.
A frantic tapping of the knocker, Molly opened the door to Lil. Have you got what I got? She said in a breathless voice. Haven't lost much time have they? Said Jess, covering her eyes with he apron.