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CHILDHOOD MEMORIES by Elizabeth Pickering
I remember that Sunday well, to all appearances it was like any other Sunday of my childhood, but time proved differently. The events that happened on that momentous day and the years to follow would change history and peoples lives forever, in most parts of the world,

It was Sunday September 3rd 1939. My mother and I were alone, as my Father was working extra duties delivering air raid shelters in and around the district of Grimsby were we lived. The housework was finished and Sunday lunch cooking in the stove. Mother and I were having our mid morning snack. The radio was switched on when over the air came an announcement, something about a man called Chamberlain, and a place called Poland, and about not hearing any communications, so from that moment we were at war with Germany
Mothers face had turned very pale and she was crying, I thought, that what we had heard was very serious, we hugged one another tightly; I clung to her but was not aware why I felt afraid

The days that followed were a hive of activity. Anderson shelters were delivered to the houses and Father erected ours in the garden. Days before what had been a beautiful garden with beds of flowers, was now a big heap of soil and sandbags, with this corrugated tin object in the middle. Our front gates and palings were removed and taken away to make armaments. The park, which was quite near, also had its gates and railings removed. With no restrictions, we could enter the park anywhere through the trees. We children had great fun playing wild games, like hunting for Germans with our toy guns pursuing an invisible army. It was just as well; we were too young to realize the true horrors of the war.

In such a short time we all faced the reality of it with many disturbed nights spent in the air raid shelter. My Grandma had come to live with us and it was a problem getting her up when the siren had sounded, she would refuse to go into the tin shed, as she called it, and would sit in the cupboard under the stairs.
Many mornings we would come out of the shelter to find neighbours houses burning, or flattened to the ground. One morning it was our house that had been damaged, its windows and doors had been blown in. There was such a wonderful community spirit, nieghbours would rally round anyone in trouble, and despite the rationing someone would always produce a cup of tea.
I remember how we took in four of our neighbours children, there house had been been badly burned with incendiary bombs. It was heaven for me to act as a little mother, being the only child at home; my brother was working away on priority work. The children were all much younger than myself I helped, by putting them to bed and reading them stories. We played games and generally gave them much attention, it was a very sad day for me when their house was repaired and they returned back home.

We were not allowed to go to school until they had built air raid shelters. Each day we went to collect home -work, and take what we had done the previous day, to be marked. This was the situation that went on for several months, it did not help much with our education, as my age group was coming to the time to take our eleven plus. When we did eventually go to school on a regular basis, after assembly, we would have air raid drill, when we would troop down into the shelters in orderly lines. They were reinforced brick buildings with no windows like dark tunnels. How we all hated the feeling been shut inside.
When the siren did go, we would all go into the shelters, and sing community songs like ten green bottles, and one man and his dog. When the guns were going off we were told to sing louder. Although we lived at a port, day raids were very infrequent. The raids were mostly at night when they bombed the docks. Although the infant school I had attended from the age of five was flattened one night, nothing was left but a heap of rubble. I know it was naughty but as kids we hoped it had been our school.
My Mother was a piano teacher, and was a beautiful pianist, she organized a concert party, gathering together several of the towns singers, and musicians. They would visit hospitals and churches giving concerts, were, many troops waiting to go abroad, would be entertained.
They became quite famous for there entertainment. I was surprised to find what a great actress my mother was to become when they performed plays. It was sad that once the war was over the group was disbanded, and they only had occasional meetings. We had had some lovely evenings at home when they were doing their practicing. We also met three lovely wrens, which were stationed in Grimsby. They were feeling very lonely and lost in our town, so we invited them home. On their nights off they would visit and enjoy some of mother’s baking, and have long chats about their hometowns and boy friends. Edna was courting a navel officer we would sit and sew her truso on my sewing machine, She brought along an old parachute, and we made glamorous undies for her. She married her officer on one of his furlongs, they, both wore their uniforms. No white weddings in those times. Win, was a pretty dark little girl all bubbly and full of fun, she swore she would not marry until she had met a millionaire. The older girl of the three was rather plump and filled out her naval uniform, I always thought her brass buttons would pop at any time. We kept in touch with them all, years after the war. Win, did not marry a millionaire, but a boy she met in London. Edna had three sons, and lived in Nottingham.

Rationing was difficult, with only two ounces of butter and four ounces of marg each, but Mother produced some wonderful cakes, with the minimum of fat, if eaten quickly they never went dry. We made cream out of the tined dried milk we received from America. And some lovely peppermint sweets, they were such a luxury.
When there were oranges in the shops, news would be passed around, and we would rush to queue to get our one orange, which children of my age were allowed with a blue ration book? To get banana’s was a miracle, how good they tasted, we made a kind of spread from them to make them last.
My Father bought a piece of land a few miles from Grimsby, ready to build a bungalow after the war. The foundations were already started, so Dad established the garden. Setting fruit trees and bushes, and creating a large vegetable garden. Each Sunday we would all bike there to help out with the weeding and gathering fruits and vegetables.
This helped greatly with our intake off vitamins and kept us healthy working all day in the sunshine, we had some wonderful times there. Mother preserved the fruits for winter making Jams and pickles, and bottling fruit. We also had enough to supply the nieghbours with fruit and veg.
As a family we were very lucky, none of our relatives were killed in the War. My two cousins were both injured at Dunkirk, but escaped with only the horrors of their experiences to haunt them. My brother, but for a mastoid operation when he was thirteen, would have been killed with his friends on HMS Hood. They all joined up together, hoping to go into the navy but Reg failed his medical. He joined the Army instead and went through Italy and married an Italian girl he had met there. He brought her home with her lovely dowry of hand embroided linen, made, by her family since she was a small child, which is the custom in that country. She was to prove a very lovable and kind Sister- in- law, and wonderful with my parents as they got older.
Girls, at school, would arrive crying after hearing news about their Fathers or. Brothers captured or killed. It was a very sad time all round and I was pleased my own children did not have to experience such events. Although, it made us appreciate the good things in life, like our freedom, and the close community spirit we all shared. What wonderful celebrations we had on V.E. night.

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