蜜芽传媒

A Town Under Attack

A life-long resident of Maidstone, the County town of Kent, I was three years old when WW2 started. I understand that Maidstone had the unenviable distinction of being subjected to a greater variety of attacks that any other town in the British Isles. Damage and casualties were caused by high explosive, incendiary and oil bombs; by crashing aircraft; by machine gun and cannon shell fire; by long-range shells; and by flying bombs (V.1s) and long-range rocket (V.2s).

Incidentally, early on, when Hitler made his threatening 鈥淟ast Appeal to Reason鈥� leaflet drop over this country, Maidstone鈥檚 consignment landed, most appropriately, in the grounds of the local mental hospital !

The following are some personal memories:

Air Battles

Kent being in the direct flight path between Nazi Germany and London, some of my earliest memories are of our Spitfires engaging German bombers in the skies over my old home during the Battle of Britain. I remember my father and our next-door neighbour often ignoring the air-raid sirens and standing in their respective back gardens, intently watching the drama overhead. 鈥淗ere come some of ours鈥� and 鈥淐ome on, get those 鈥楯erries鈥� over there鈥� were typical of their excited comments.

One day we discovered a sizeable piece of shrapnel in our back garden and kept this for some time as a memento of these crucial days.

One vivid memory is of an evening, after dark, and the sound of a very low- flying aircraft. The noise became more and more deafening and, as it passed overhead, the whole house seemed to shake and vibrate, whilst inside we cowered wherever we could, expecting the worst. Later we discovered it was a German bomber which had been shot down. The side wall of a house in the road behind ours bore a scrape mark left by the plane鈥檚 wing- tip, prior to it crashing on another house minutes later, killing the elderly occupant.

At 蜜芽传媒 and At School

I remember the 鈥榖lackout鈥� curtains or blinds having to be drawn at every window after dark, before we dared switch any light on, and the raucous bellow of the air-raid warden to 鈥淧ut that light out!鈥� if one dared to open the front door a mere crack without first remembering to extinguish all lights.

My own father was engaged in the 鈥楧ad鈥檚 Army鈥� of the day and one of the earliest phrases uttered by my younger brother was 鈥溍垩看� Guard 鈥� sore feet鈥�, bearing eloquent witness to some of their activities!

I recall, too, the old iron railings being removed from the low walls surrounding all our front gardens, together with our gates (for the 鈥榳ar effort鈥� we were told) and, in a strange way, we somehow felt more vulnerable with our iron 鈥榙efences鈥� stripped away, leaving only a few pathetic inches of metal protruding from the wall. Eventually, most of the railings were replaced by wooden fences and the old iron railing had disappeared for ever as a feature of our streets.

We all carried our gasmasks to school and, as we were in and out of the air-raid shelter as the sirens sounded, lessons were frequently disrupted

Travel and Food Restrictions

No unnecessary travel was allowed and certainly no seaside holiday. One treat was an isolated day trip to Gillingham Strand and, even then, we were kept well away from the actual water鈥檚 edge, whilst the sky above was dominated by the massive barrage balloons which formed part of wartime Britain鈥檚 defence system.

Many food items were in short supply or entirely absent. 蜜芽传媒 vegetable growing was encouraged and even front gardens were often so used. Oranges were a rare treat, only obtainable at Christmas, and I clearly recall my mother struggling to explain to me exactly what a banana tasted like! Saccharine tablets were often used in tea instead of sugar, whilst a 鈥榮weet-toothed鈥� family would readily buy sugar from a neighbour who needed the extra cash. Joints for Sunday lunch would be something cheap, such as breast of lamb, rabbit or even pigeon.

The V.1 Flying Bomb

One morning, during the summer of 1944, several of us children were stopped on the way to school by fellow-pupils on their way home. Excitedly, they explained 鈥淲e all have to go home for the day. There are pilotless planes coming over and no-one knows what they are!鈥� In reality, it was the start of months 鈥� it seemed more like years 鈥� of attack by the V.1 flying bomb (or 鈥榙oodle bugs鈥� as we soon called them).

From then on, we would frequently watch the cross-shaped rocket traverse the sky, London-bound, with its flaming exhaust and its own peculiar droning sound. That is, until the engine abruptly cut out and, in the eerie silence that followed, we would watch as it began to nose-dive and, if seemingly coming our way, would rush for cover and await the inevitable explosion. This would be accompanied by the shattering of windows over a wide area and many house at that time could be seen with individual panes boarded up. In fact, whenever I drew a house as a child, I remember I always included some blacked-out window panes!

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As children at that time, I don鈥檛 recall us ever feeling any fear. To us Hitler was an evil monster, whom we often ridiculed, and the prospect of beating him (and of this we had no doubts!) was all very exciting. I don鈥檛 think we ever gave a thought to the very real danger we were in but, instead, looked forward to the victory that we just knew was coming one day.

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