蜜芽传媒

My War by Jean Hampton (nee Wilson)

I was fourteen years old when World War Two broke out. There had been a build up to it over the preceding months. We all hoped that it could be avoided, because we had seen news films of the horrific scenes of the civil war in Spain and we could not contemplate those kinds of things happening in our country. A few months previously we had all been issued with gas masks and except for trying them on; laughing at the rude raspberry sounds we made and complaining of the smell of rubber, they had been put away and forgotten. Then two or three days prior to the start of hostilities things started to hot up. I was actually on holiday, staying with a great friend of my aunt in Midhurst. First of all, because she was a single woman living in a fairly large house, she was informed that she would have to take evacuees. This put her in a spin because, although she was a widow, she had never had children. So she immediately contacted a niece and persuaded her to come and live with her to help look after the two little boys that had been allocated to her. Then on September 1st we were told to use blackout at the windows and I remember that she showed a small chink at one of her bedroom windows and the warden shouted outside her house, 鈥淧ut that 鈥�.. light out鈥� The following day my aunt phoned up and said that she was coming down to take me home on the Sunday as my mother thought it right if there were going to be raids we should all be together as a family. After listening to the Prime Minister鈥檚 speech, telling us that we were at war we left Midhurst. On the train journey to Brighton we stopped for about half an hour along the line somewhere. We found out afterwards that was when there had been an air raid warning which turned out to be a false alarm.

Then of course there followed the 鈥榩honey war鈥� for several months. I went back to school (the Intermediate at York Place, opposite St Peter鈥檚 Church) and found that we could only go half day because at that time Brighton was considered a 鈥榮afe鈥� area鈥� and children were evacuated to the town, and a whole school was going to use our building for the other half of the day. I can鈥檛 remember exactly when this decision was revoked but I don鈥檛 think that it lasted very long before they either went home or were moved to another part of the country. It was quite an eventful year for me because I was made Head Prefect 鈥� a great surprise, especially as the teachers chose the prefects, but the girls voted for the one they wanted to be Head girl. I was quite a shy person and never felt that I was especially well known; perhaps they thought that I would be a soft touch!

I forgot to mention that my aunt in Canada offered to have me to stay for the duration. I was thrilled with this idea as I had always wanted to visit that country. However my mother stuck to her idea that we should all stay together and refused, much to my chagrin. Maybe it was meant to be because one of the ships that were sunk by the U boats had children on board. Also many years after, when I visited my cousin, he took me to see the house, which was just a very small wooden building, where my aunt and uncle must surely have had a bed settee in the small living room, the two boys definitely had a minute bedroom with just enough space for bunk beds. There was a kitchen with a trap door in the floor with a red lamp by it, to signify whether there was anyone on the toilet, which was in the basement. I know that I would have been mortified and I鈥檓 sure quite unhappy, at least at first. I don鈥檛 know where I would have slept. Perhaps as my uncle was a carpenter he would have just built a room onto accommodate me.

What with all the various exams, the year flew by and my greatest wish was to continue my education at college. However my mother had other ideas. She felt that she had paid for me long enough and it was time for me to earn my keep. So I was made to write off for jobs and I got the first one I applied for, which was to do the accounts at an insurance brokers , called J Ransome Bentley in the Phoenix Buildings in West St.

History books will tell when the Battle of Britain started; I seem to think that it was about August 1940. I think it really hit home to me when I was out in the town one day and I met one of my old school friends and she told me that one of the girls (Joan Cordier) in my class had been killed when the bomb hit the Odeon cinema at Kemp Town. Brighton was very lucky as regards air raids, compared to the big cities, but we had our share, mostly when the returning aircraft wanted to jettison their last bombs and also we would get odd aircraft dashing in and dropping a bomb or two and then disappearing quickly as the fighters went after them. We used to watch the dog fights in the sky, praying that our boys would shoot them down. I remember walking to work one day down Beaconsfield Villas and seeing an aircraft flying over in the direction of the Race Hill and seeing some bombs falling out of it.

People in Brighton weren鈥檛 issued with air raid shelters, although there were some public ones. I can remember at first my mother made my sister Rene, her daughter Ann and I sleep under our rather hefty dining table, but after a while we just used to go up to bed when the siren went. We always got the warning as the German planes flew over on their way to London and then the 鈥� all clear鈥� siren used to sound as we heard them returning, so we had some sleepless nights. However in time we got blas茅 about this and used to stay in bed but we didn鈥檛 often sleep until we knew that all the planes had gone over. Then of course incendiaries were also dropped as this helped the enemy to find their way back. Naturally, there was always the threat of invasion, especially living on the coast and I remember having a recurring dream of German soldiers running down our semi-area steps and me standing behind the door and stabbing them, through their thick uniforms with one of our kitchen knives which incidentally, were extremely blunt!

At the latter end of the war we had the V1s. They used to pass over Brighton regularly. I remember the first time we heard this rather unearthly sound going overhead and running out and seeing this strange looking aircraft with flames coming from the rear and wondering whatever it was. Later of course we learnt to listen and keep our fingers crossed that we wouldn鈥檛 hear the engine cut out. I can only remember this happening now and again but I think they always fell on countryside and did no damage to the town. In time our fighters became very adept at nudging the V1鈥檚 and turning them towards the sea so that they exploded over water. For years after when we used to drive up King George鈥檚 IV鈥檚 Avenue we could see a dent in the hills the shape of one of these rockets. The only time I can remember feeling very scared was when I was told about the V2s. These were the ones that you couldn鈥檛 hear, they just came over silently and dropped and exploded causing a great deal of damage, Brighton was lucky and never had to endure one of these monstrosities.

When I was 16 I decided that I wanted to do something towards the war effort, so I joined the A.R.P. as a messenger girl. I must admit that I was never sent out on any messages but used to regularly go to the post about twice a week. First of all, I was stationed at one of the big houses along the Preston Rd, then I was sent to the Varndean post and although I didn鈥檛 realise it at the time, the warden in charge was the Headmaster of that boys鈥� school. Then I was moved to Blaker鈥檚 Park but my mother found out that the man in charge of that post hadn鈥檛 a very good reputation as regards young girls and she put a swift stop to my war work! When I was seventeen and a half it would have been possible for me to join one of the forces and I dearly wanted to enrol in either the W.A.A.F or the W.R.E.N.S. but once again my mother put a stop to my aspirations as she had to sign a consent form and refused to do so. When I was eighteen it became compulsory for me to join up but at that time all entry to the forces were full and the only things available for me was factory work or domestic work in a hospital, neither of which I must admit, although very worthy, appealed to me. However, the man who was the administrative secretary at the office had been called up and I was the next in line by that time to take his place and I was given exemption because of this, which was allocated out at three months at a time. Nevertheless, I was called up for part time work and was detailed to join the Auxiliary Fire Service. I was stationed at a sub station at Withdean as a telephonist. I used to spend two nights a week there, although whilst I was on duty I must admit we had very few call outs, mainly haystack fires in the summer and once to Tommy Farr鈥檚 house (he was a boxer and lived along the London Rd, quite close to the station) to put out a fire in his wardrobe! I also used to work a couple of nights a week at the Canadian Canteen which was situated along East Street. I earned the reputation there as the best coffee maker, which I considered a compliment coming from men from that continent, and as at that time I don鈥檛 remember there being anything other than Camp coffee in our house. This was a rather repulsive bottle of brown liquid to which you added water and milk and which tasted very sweet so there was no reason to add sugar unless you had a sweet tooth.

Talking of sugar brings me to the subject of rationing. Actually I don鈥檛 think that many aspects of rationing really affected me very much. At that time I never ate meat. My father had three allotments and brought back plenty of vegetables and salad produce when it was in season. I didn鈥檛 mind bread without fat on it as we had a baker鈥檚 shop close to us so we could always have fresh bread. Cheese was a bit of a problem, but my sister worked for the local dairy 鈥� Holes and Davigdor 鈥� in one of their shops in Hove and very often one of her customer鈥檚 didn鈥檛 want to use some of their coupons for their rationed food and would offer them to her, so from time to time our supplies were supplemented by this. I suppose sugar and sweet rationing was the worst for me. Before the war I used to have 6 knobs of sugar in my tea and always had lots and lots of sweets. I managed to cut down to 2 knobs and of course had to do with an odd bar of chocolate now and again. Rationing went on to long past the war years and I can remember that I didn鈥檛 go without sugar in my tea at least until 1952, when my first child was born. Things did get a little harder towards the end of the war because nearly everything was rationed and we got used to things made with dried egg, eking out jam until the points came available and if I remember correctly, I think that near the end, both milk and bread became short but we seemed to get along reasonably well.

Fruit of course was in short supply, and there were absolutely no bananas, although I think that my niece received one banana fairly late in the war. I鈥檓 sure that we could get oranges now and again, presumably these came from South Africa and of course my dad grew strawberries, raspberries, gooseberries, red, black and white currants, so we had a plentiful supply of these when in season. Plums were available in the shops during the months of August / September and apples up to Christmas. Strangely I never remember my mother bottling any fruit and I didn鈥檛 know that this process was possible until I married and my mother-in-law showed me how to do this. Tinned fruit was always in short supply, because of the metal used but we did get allocated one now and again and this was used for special occasions and we were lucky because we had a food parcel sent to us from time to time from relations abroad.

Once the Americans came into the war Spam reared its ugly head but helped to make a change from the corned beef. Also peanut butter arrived on the scene and this was enjoyed by all our family. I can鈥檛 face Spam now but peanut butter is still a favourite of mine.

My mother always liked a little tipple and pre war had always had a bottle of port in the house and some milk stout for lunch on wash days. It became quite hard to obtain port wine and we had various replacements offered to us. The two that I remember particularly was a rather horrid Algerian wine that was so rough that I鈥檓 sure it didn鈥檛 do the linings of our stomach much good. Also there was an Australian wine called Tarragona, which was a little better but certainly it didn鈥檛 reach the quality of their wines today. The stout I think was fairly easy to obtain because we had a local brewery in the road at the back of St Peter鈥檚 Church. I remember when I was at school and it was warm enough to open the windows, the smell from the brewery used to make me feel sick. My drink when I got older was either gin and orange or gin and It (Italian Vermouth). I鈥檓 sure that it was well watered down because if I drank as much of it nowadays I would be under the table in no time.

I suppose the rationing that affected me the most was coupons for clothes or dress material. I have always been interested in having nice things to wear and had been taught to do needlework from a very early age. I can remember saving up my coupons until I had enough to buy material and getting up early Sunday morning, cutting out a frock and sitting up until the early hours to finish it and be able to wear it the next day. Also I often unpicked a suit or dress and then made it up again in another style. I had a favourite black dress, which each time I went to a dance I altered the trimming, adding lace, sequins or some other type of adornment

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