- Contributed by
- ballysan
- People in story:
- Barry Lowden
- Location of story:
- Hastings, East Sussex
- Article ID:
- A2024993
- Contributed on:
- 12 November 2003
As a “war-baby”, I do not really remember a great deal about the war years, but certain things and events do stick in my mind, which I am happy to share here.
The single most prominent thing that has remained in my mind from wartime, is the wailing sound of the air-raid siren. Even today, when I hear it (eg. on a TV documentary or drama), the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and a shiver runs down my back.
I can see clearly in my mind’s eye, the 18 inch thick brick wall my dad built outside the french windows at the back of our house. Together with my two brothers, we eat, played and slept in the room that had been protected by this “anti-bomb-blast wall” and felt kind of safe, knowing that our dad had built it. Whether the wall would have actually saved us from death or injury we would never know and now thankfully it was never put to the test. In that downstairs room where we spent so much time during the war, I remember too, the massively substantial iron double bunk bed where my two brothers slept, whilst I slept in a wooden cot (later, after the war we kept the cot for visiting cousins and I can still vividly see the “famous” black Utility logo stamped on the side of the cot). As far my brothers’ iron bunk bed was concerned, it was also used as a kind of in-house bomb shelter… whenever we heard ‘planes or doodle-bugs (V1 rocket bombs) flying overhead…. We then all huddled together: me, my two brothers and my mum, all waiting for the drone-sounds to pass whilst casting nasty aspersions about Hitler.
Another safety feature my dad installed, before he went off to fight in Normandy, was an enormously thick tree trunk (bearing in mind the perception of a three-to-four year old at the time). This was buried into the ground below the floorboards and propped-up the ceiling. I don’t quite remember but neighbours (some time after the war) confirmed that the tree took root in the ground and even started to sprout shoots in the lounge-dining room!
I remember too, being looked after in hospital when my mum was taken ill with pneumonia. I remember like it was yesterday, my dad in soldier’s uniform holding me up to see out of the window… what I didn’t know then, was that my dad was there because he had jumped camp one night to get to see my mum who was ill. The Military Police came after him but he hid from them and managed to get back to camp before they did! This was during the south-coast manoeuvres prior to the Normandy invasion.
Being so young, I remember little else during those years until the day my dad came home from the war. Mum must have known he was on his way because she told me to look out the front-room window. And I saw him, again in his soldier’s uniform walking up the road to the house carrying his kit bag over his shoulder. That kit bag came in use for years after and was kept hung-up in the garden shed.
For me, the announcement of the war’s ending became apparent when the Town Crier came round all the streets, wearing his regalia and ringing his bell, before making the announcement that war was over and that peace has come at last. Then, the street party… we were all fancy-dressed up but I have forgoten what I was dressed as. Some lunatics (presumably the worst for wear) let out some cattle from a nearby farmer’s field (perhaps the “lunatic” was the farmer himself?) and a cow came trotting down the street to join the party as well… starting with the food table! Being only a four-year old at the time, I was a bit frightened by this event.
One piece of apparel that I wore from time-to-time (and sometimes for play) was the Government-issue gas mask. Mine, of course, was a child’s one but I can’t quite recall whether it was supposed to be “Mickey-mouse” or “Donald-duck”; probably as told me by one of my elder brothers… a butt of numerous jokes by them, I’m sure.
Maybe, now I’ve started on this trip down memory lane, other memories may come flooding back… so, please watch this space… For now, I’ll leave with these two well-known phrases, which sadly seem to be as applicable today as they were then: “Careless Talk Cost Lives” and “Walls Have Ears”.
From: Ballysan
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