蜜芽传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Trish Hayes on behalf of the author Anne Stone, and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

THE WAR YEARS
In 1939 when I was seven, two events were very prominent in my life. On May 27th Ivy (The author's sister - T.H.) and Wilf were married at St. At Michael鈥檚 Church in Stonebridge Park. This meant that the eldest child of the family had left the family home leaving just ten of us. The most significant part for me was that I had slightly more room in the bed! ...The second happening to have the most profound effect on me was the war between Britain and Germany which was declared on September 3, 1939. The whole country was plunged into darkness immediately. Every building in the land was ordered to blackout their windows so that no enemy aircraft could pinpoint any targets for bombing. Chris (The author's sister - T.H.)and I were among the first children to be evacuated. We all had to be given gas masks and were ordered to carry them everywhere at all times. Also, we were allowed just one small pack which we had to carry on our backs with our immediate belongings. As a small seven year old I obviously couldn鈥檛 carry much. Not that it would have made much difference as I never had very much.
We were taken by train to Northampton along with thousands of other children on the first Sunday of the war. Miss Callon, one of our teachers, accompanied us on the train. She was quite elderly to have to look after so many children, but she managed us all marvellously. She really was so kind to us all.
It was very late at night when we reached Northampton. Most of the host parents didn鈥檛 want two children, and as our mother had requested that we were to kept together we were the last two to be allocated to parents. Oh! What a disaster. We were never happy for a long time after that. The elderly couple that took us already had three daughters. Two were adult and the youngest (Maureen) was a bit younger than Chris. We had to share her room, and she made it very cbvious that she hated us. Her mother, who we had to call Auntie Minnie, didn鈥檛 really want us either. She had only taken us as a last resort. Apparently she only wanted one child to share with Maureen. The husband was a small henpecked man, but they must have been a lot better off then we were financially because at that time he was the only man we knew who had a car. As for Auntie Minnie, she can only be remembered as downright cruel. Our Northampton address, along with our National Identity Number, was drummed into us at school every day. I still have my old Identity Card at the time of writing, and I am now sixty years old.
We had to share the school with the local children. That meant we only went mornings one week and afternoons the next: of course the locals did likewise. Miss Callon had stayed as our teacher and would take us for nature studies in the park or to the museum on the periods we weren鈥檛 in school. The park in Northampton was the one thing there that as good. I remember it was beautifully landscaped and had two lakes with wildfowl. Also the museum was in the grounds. The bad part was that the winter was bitter, the worst I had so far encountered and I actually cried with the pain of being so cold. Chris did her best to comfort me at that time, but really our clothing was so inadequate for that time of year that we were both freezing.

Years later (I think it was 1978) Ken took me to visit the park and to my joy it was still there and still beautifully kept.
When we arrived at Auntie Minnie鈥檚 each day we were then made to sit on stools and either knit or read. On a dry day we could play for a short while in the backyard or in the playloft above the garage. There was a flight of external wooden steps leading to the playloft: one day Chris had a very nasty accident and fell on the concrete ground right from the top step. She was really hurt and her hands were badly bruised as was her head. Auntie Minnie was furious and instead of looking after her promptly made her use the most painful right hand to write and eat with.
I also had a different kind of accident one day. I came home from school with a very upset stomach. When I got home
I couldn鈥檛 get in and consequently soiled my pants. How I cried. I was still only seven years old and that horrible old
woman wouldn鈥檛 let me inside the house until I had washed my clothes in a bucket of ice cold water. I think we cried
ourselves to sleep every night.
During this time various things were happening back home in Twybridge Way. The first brother to go into the army was Fred. He enlisted in January 1940 and as we were away Chris and I never saw him again for a long time after that.
We were allowed home for a visit at Easter in 1940. I remember us both pleading and crying to be allowed to stay home, and what joy when mum said we could. The rest of the war years were spent with our friends and family in Twybridge Way.
The next brother to go in the army was Tom and finally Charlie. Albert wasn鈥檛 in good enough health so he had to do essential war work. Ivy and Flo were both working in a dry cleaning factory where they did contract work cleaning servicemen鈥檚 uniforms. Mum used to have to iron all the gas mask tapes for reuse and Chris and I sat for hours taking safety pins out of them before they were ironed. Everybody was doing whatever they could to help the war effort, so Chris and I used to fix ten safety pins on a card and go around the streets selling them for ld. each. The money was then sent off to the Red Cross to help buy food parcels for our Prisoners of War.
We also kept up our dancing classes and gave little concerts in our mother鈥檚 back room. Mum was great at helping us out. She let us use two bedspreads as stage curtains and despite the rationing would make cakes and lemonade for our 鈥渁udience鈥� of school friends to buy in the interval. The children paid ld. to come in and another ld. for refreshments. Again, all the money was sent to the Red Cross. It was also great fun for us to help in this way, especially when we used to have a queue of kids form the back door out to the front gate waiting to come in.
The summer of 1940 was the start of 鈥楾he Battle of Britain鈥�. Most of the time in those days was spent in air raid shelters. We were allocated a shelter in the street immediately outside our house.
Dad was detailed at this time to be Fire Watch Sector Captain as our house was in the centre of the street. This meant he had to organize all the available adult neighbours to keep a lookout during the night in case any incendiary bombs dropped. They had to do two hourly shifts and patrol in pairs until the next two took over their shift. Dad kept a register that they had to sign on before going on duty. This meant, of course, that there were always people coming and going at the house. It also meant that Chris and I were detailed to do all the running about with any paperwork that had to be delivered. There was no way that he was going to be put out of his armchair.
There was no such thing as television in those days, so evenings were spent listening to the radio or playing cards, dominoes or board games, or for us girls it meant knitting or sewing.
Everything was rationed. We were allocated one egg each a week and two ounces of butter. I think it was four ounces of sugar and the same for cheese. Meat was very hard to come by and only one shilling and sixpence worth for each person. Thank goodness for our own vegetables and fruit or we would have been on the verge of starving. At this time dad decided to keep a few chickens for eggs and also to able to have an occasional chicken for dinner. That was a great idea but unfortunately it didn鈥檛 work out quite like that. We had the eggs alright, but the chickens were treated like family pets and were allowed in the house as well so no one had the heart to kill them and eat them.
I must now return to the matter of the air raid shelters.
It was at about this time that Flo was called up to go in the Land Army. Ivy was living in her own flat in Carlyle Avenue. Wilf was also now in the army and Albert was away on vital war work. This left just mum, dad and us three younger children.
The air raid shelters were pretty cramped with just a very narrow bench to sit on along one side and six bunks (two sets
of three), along the other. They were just a wooden structure with webbing straps and hessian tacked across to sleep
on, They were also extremely uncomfortable. There were no windows and the only light permissible was a candle hidden under a big flower pot so that no lights could be seen from the air.
The air raids were by this time raging every night, so instead of having to leave our beds every night we automatically
started going straight to the shelter. Ivy didn鈥檛 want to stay on her own so she came to our shelter every night, along with my Auntie Lou - what a character me she was! She was one of dad鈥檚 sisters and was left a widow some years previously. I don鈥檛 think we had ever laughed old so much in all our lives as we did with Auntie Lou.
As I have mentioned the shelters were made for six people. With the arrival of Ivy and Auntie Lou that obviously made seven. Ever resourceful, dad managed to 鈥渃ommandeer鈥� a bunk from someone else鈥檚 shelter and had this in the narrow gap between the bunks and bench. You certainly couldn鈥檛 be fat to move about in that place. Anyway sleeping arrangements were as follows:
Bunk 3: ME Bunk 6: George

Bunk 2: Ivy Bunk 5: Mum

Bunk 1: Aunt Lou Bunk 4: Chris

On The Floor: Dad

As you can imagine, not much sleep could be obtained in such circumstances. Most of the night someone would be snoring or somebody would want to go to the toilet. This meant opening the shelter door and going all the way back in the house. You had to have an overcoat and umbrella with you because it was cold and could also be pouring with rain.
I should mention here that if we came out and looked up when the rockets (V2鈥檚) were being targeted on London it was quite possible to see whereabouts they were likely to land. Also, at night times, of course, the explosion could be felt and the fires seen for miles around.
It was with alarming regularity every night that after we had all finally managed to get to sleep there was a thud and a yell of 鈥淲hat the hell?鈥� from dad. George would fall off the top bunk onto dad and wake him up. Dad would then pick him up and put him back on the top bunk and he didn鈥檛 even wake up - we all certainly did! It amazes me now to remember that it took them about nine months to realise that if they swapped him over Chris on the bottom bunk he wouldn鈥檛 have to fall. Another incident that stays in my mind is that as the war went on we were obliged to spend more and more time in the shelters. I distinctly remember being in there with mum one day when an air raid warden popped his head round our door and said 鈥淎re you alright ma?鈥� then laughed his head off! There was mum, with a bowl of water on the floor with her feet in it giving them a good soak, and another bowl on her lap in which she was peeling the potatoes for dinner. During all the war years only once did all our brothers manage to get leave together. What a ding dong party that turned out to be. Nobody bothered with the shelters that night. We had almost forgotten what our beds were like. After that Fred was sent to India and Burma. Flo was now courting a chap called George Griffin and he took me to Rye in Sussex one weekend to visit her at her Land Army hostel. Also I was to appear with her and a few others in a couple of concerts in Rye and Hastings that were being organised for refugees. I remember enjoying the concerts, but I can鈥檛 recall where the refugees came from. Christmas 1940 was a meagre affair. The war still raged on the continent and life was still a struggle. Aunt Lou still came to sleep in the shelter and it must have been during these times that I learned all Aunt Lou鈥檚 comical saucy songs. How we used to have such a laugh every night singing to keep our spirits up. Heaven only knows what the neighbours thought. They must have heard us all down the street. At the same time there was always the very real serious side of life. Bombs were falling all over London. People were maimed and killed and, of course, so many were made homeless. By this time I must have been about nine years old and fully understood all the terrible grief a war can bring. After a while, and due mainly to our wonderful fighter pilots getting the better of the German air force, the air raids faded out for a while. It was at this point that we were all able to back indoors to sleep. Mum and dad slept upstairs, but Ivy, Chris and I had beds in the downstairs back room. This room now had heavy shutters on the windows so that if a bomb did explode anywhere we wouldn鈥檛 get cut if the glass shattered. Wilf did manage to get leave once while we were in that room. He and Ivy shared a double bed, while Chris and I slept one each end of a bed chair. Christmas 1942 came and went and life carried on in much the same way. Ivy had moved back in her own flat in Carlyle Avenue where she gave birth to a lovely baby girl. Wilf was overseas at the time (I think) but poor Ivy had a dreadful time and was put in the morgue at the hospital as they thought she had died. However, she must have come round on her own and was struggling to uncover herself from the sheet they had covered her with when she heard a scream. Apparently a nurse was going through the morgue with a tray of instruments and Ivy moving frightened the life out of her. She dropped the tray and ran quickly to get a doctor. After that she was taken back to the ward and given everything possible to warm her up. Sadly poor Ivy鈥檚 joy was short lived, for the baby died when she was just three months old. By now it was February 1942 and I had reached the grand old age of 10. I was very good at school work, my dancing and singing lessons were improving, and along with the rest of the class I was giving concerts in aid of war charities at various places around London. One night about twenty-four of us had to perform in Wembley at St. Joseph鈥檚 Hall or 鈥淗oly Joe鈥檚鈥� as it was affectionately called. It was pitch black outside and we had to walk home all together about one and half miles. The pavement outside Wembley Stadium is broken in numerous places for car entrances, but fortunately it is also very wide. So two dozen of us linked arms and singing at
the top of our voices started for home. Oh dear! Being so dark we couldn鈥檛 see the kerbstones and had to feel our way with our feet. Consequently, when one fell down, we all fell down. It caused such hilarious laughter among us all. Heaven only knows what a state we were in when we arrived home. Our clothes were filthy and torn and as we had also had to carry our stage costumes they weren鈥檛 in much better condition either. I must remind readers at this point that by now all the brothers who were in the army were all at various places overseas. Poor mum was constantly looking for letters and news. We only had radio in those days, so every news bulletin was listened to very intently.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.