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My memories of World War 2

On Sunday 3rd September 1939, I celebrated my 4th birthday by being brought home from The Carter’s Bequest Hospital where I was being treated for a TB hip resulting from falling on my bottom 2½ years earlier. I was being brought home, not so much for being cured, rather for the fact that the hospital was being evacuated to receive the expected war wounded and patients were to be moved much further away from my home town. In fact, I remained strapped to a surgical frame which permitted only head and arm movement for some considerable period after leaving the hospital.

Upon arriving home, which happened to be a public house (The Windmill Inn, Thornaby-on-Tees), I was put into bed upstairs in the sitting room while my parents went down to listen to Neville Chamberlain make his unforgettable speech regarding the outbreak of war with Germany. I remember that the weather was brilliant with sunshine, unlike the spirits of all who came to see me.

Teesside, where I lived, became a target for bombing with its steel and chemical works, its shipyards and its rail links. We had a Morrison Shelter in the house, but with my frame it was virtually impossible to get me in it. As a consequence, when the Air-Raid Siren sounded, I was carried across the road to the public shelter which for the most part comprised the beer cellar of a pub called The Sadlers Hotel. Getting me down the stairs of this shelter also proved difficult, however, and shortly afterwards the proprietors of the Sadlers invited us to share their private shelter (which was easier to access with me, by far).

As the war continued and raids became less frequent, we used the shelter less and less, preferring to gather in the kitchen of our own pub (where the Morrison Shelter was sited - but not used). We were in there when our only "near miss" happened. A land-mine which had been aimed at the railway station totally demolished another pub called The Unicorn about 300 yards away at the end of George Street. The explosion didn’t seem so much a bang as a "whoosh" which caused all the windows to fly in, and then out leaving no glass within the house, but all outside on the pavement. I dare say that the heavy black-out curtains which we had up at the windows made a distinct contribution to the fact that no one was at all hurt - but we all looked like coal miners coming off shift owing to the soot which came down the chimney.

Later still when I was no longer on the frame but in a plaster spiker which immobilised the hip (and consisted of a plaster cast all down one leg and around the midriff) but allowed me to walk (after a fashion), I used to look forward to when the ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ Guard and local forces performed exercises as our pub was frequently designated as a target for capture (surprise, surprise).

Because of my interest in aircraft recognition, I had all the Penguin Aircraft Recognition manuals that were published and avidly pored through them so that I knew every detail of the air forces of Britain, Germany, the USA and Italy (I can’t recall ever seeing one containing Japanese aircraft). My joy was to go round in the public bar and get customers to show me a silhouette or describe dimensions and power units and I would fill in all the missing details, even describing mark numbers and modifications.

I remember that on VE day, because of Double-Summertime, it remained light until almost 11 o’clock at night - and did we celebrate.

Barry Fletcher

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