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Watching the Dunkirk documentaries on the ��ѿ��ý recently brought back all sorts of memories of the war years. I was at school in Boscombe and news bulletins were a regular part of life at home. My Father was in Shanghai and persuaded my Mother to book passages for the three of us (herself, my brother and me) to take ship to Canada and thence to China where we had lived until 1939. Passages were booked but owing to some delay the tickets did not arrive, and the ship - “City of Benares” sailed without us. She was torpedoed in mid-Atlantic and sank with the loss of many lives. Mother then decided that we should remain in England. Had we gone back to China, we would have been interned as my Father was, and we did not see him again until 1946.
When the Dunkirk evacuation took place, many French troops came to Boscombe to King’s Park Football ground. My Mother was bilingual and so was able to interpret as many of the French did not speak English. The troops were in a bad way as they had been marching for many days and had to have their boots cut off their feet. They were so grateful to their English ‘hosts’ but all they wanted was to get back to France and fight to liberate their country.
I was able to give one of them a beret which he was anxious to acquire. He put the beret on immediately and was so thrilled. His beaming smile was a reward for an eleven year-old. He gave be a holy medal which I still have. My brother and I made ourselves useful running errands and helping to serve food. My autograph book contains many messages and signatures.
We used to go to north Dorset during the holidays, usually cycling over via Wimborne and Badbury Rings. The beech tree avenue was a favourite resting place on a hot summer day. One day we found the entire avenue occupied by army vehicles and were moved on by Military Police. When we returned by the same route a few days later they were all gone, as the D-Day invasion had happened.
The hotels in Boscombe and Bournemouth were used as billets for troops, frequently Americans. Helpers were recruited from the local Red Cross, ��ѿ��ýguard and others. My brother and I went along with our Mother to help with washing up and serving meals, using the food the Americans had brought over - oh the treats we enjoyed - chocolate, candies and peanut butter! We never went hungry and had a good, varied diet, thanks to Mother’s care and inventiveness but when the Americans went and left behind some of their food, we could share between the helpers it added variety for a while.
The Battle of Britain was an exciting time as many dogfights took place off the coast, and we used to see them as we walked or cycled if there was no air raid siren to warn us to go to the shelter. One day we were out for a picnic in the New Forest and heard planes coming in low. The sound was different and so we guessed — correctly - that they were enemy aircraft. We threw ourselves down in the shelter of bracken and low bushes - never mind the adders The Square in Bournemouth was hit by bombs that day.
On another occasion we were picking blackberries out near Hum when a damaged plane couldn’t quite manage to land at the airport - a very tiny area at that time - and crashed into a hedge the other side of the field killing the pilot, but the rear gunner was rescued.
VE Day was most exciting and we went with crowds of people to the centre of Bournemouth and the Gardens where the fairy lights were ajoy after the gloom of the blackout. But of course for us and many others whose loved ones were in the Far East, VJ Day was truly wonderful!

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