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Born 1934, an only child,I was just six at the outbreak of war and my earliest recollections were of the sudden changes to our way of life,the blackout,noise and my chums Dads suddenly apearing in uniform and then disapearing from time to time,but not my Dad.He was in a reserved occupation and at that time not many people understud what that was so we did get some funny looks for a time.
The first poinient memory was EVACUATION Mum told me all the children were going to the seaside to get away from the bombs and
most children did,but not me,Accrinton is were I found myself.The jokes have been endless over the years from has it got a pier as long as Wigan`s to I must have got on the wrong train.However my memories of Accrinton were all happy ones I lived with a nice lady,who was on her own,in a long road with a hill at the end that had stone canons on top.Since then I have had an affinity with the place and I am fan of Accrinton Stanley football team and a member of the Supporters Club,(membership no)
About six weeks later I found myself back home,not the same home I had left,but a new home in Prestwich just outside Saiford,because it was a safe place! don`t you believe it,it was now the real fun began.
This so-called safe place just happened to be on the Germans bombing run to bomb the Exide Battery factory and the Pilkington Glass factory both of which made parts for aircraft.These fatories were located on the West bank of the river Erwell about two miles away across open contry from our street,which was the last street on the estate,probably built in the 20s/30s and was mainly back-to-back terraced housing.
Interestingly, as far as I know,not one bomb ever fell on these two factories.
Our bombing started soon after I returned home.I say our bombing because Manchester had already been heavily bombed whilst I was away in Accrington and the place where my Mother worked had been wiped of the map.
The first responce to our bombing was the building of a communial air raid shelter and that was when the fun started,that shalter became,for me and my chums, a major
part of our lives,we spent more time in it when there was`nt an air raid than ever we did when there was,but more about that later.
The bombs dropped on us were phosphorous bombs,(incendiary bombs)about 18ins long,including the fin,designed to start fires.I know this because they did`nt all go off and they used to drop hundreds of them at a time.
Before we had the big shelter at the end of our street we had been told by the authorities,that when the sirens went off,to either get under a table or go under the stairs.However now we had to walk 150yds to the shelter and by the time the siren went off the bombs were already falling the anti-aircraft guns were banging away,shrapnel was falling like rain and and we were running up the street under an umbrella and me holding a tin plate over my head.For me,now aged about 7/8 and although it was`nt fun at first it soon did become fun because it happened so often.
The aftermath of these raids became a bit of a ritual.When the all-clear sounded we all rushed home to see if our houses were
alight and if not,to put out the bombs that had gone off and were lying around.These 'duds' were picked up by the ARPs next day and I never rember any serious damage to the properties around us.
My only sad moment of the whole war happened at this time.The people had been told how deal with these incendiary bombs,never use water to put them out,it only makes them burn more fercly.They must be smothered with soil or sand.Returning from the big shelter on night we found an incendiary bomb alight just outside the back door which my Father promtly put out using a small bucket of sand from the coal shed.That bucket of sand I had brough back from Blackpool in the Summer of 1939 and I cried myself to sleep that night not being able to understand why,when we had a garden full of muck,he had to use my sand.
The mornings after these raids we kids were out in the streets,long before it was time to go to school,collecting the shrapnell in buckets to be recycled.The authorities had already taken all the iron railings,spare pots and pans and whatever for the war effort.Nothing went to waste,bins were put in the street for the people to put waste food in to be made into 'pig swill'and they did`nt half stink.
There were for us so many ironies,non more so than the eventual delivery of the Anderson shelter.these were small family shelters to be erected half buried in the back garden,if you had a garden.We eventually received one of these shelters
made from corrugated iron,dug a hole,bolted it together,put it in the hole,covered it with the soil from the hole and waited for the next air raid,which never came.We did spend a lot of time baling out the water each time it filed up as it did with monotonous regularity.Eventually Dad said if we have an air raid remember to put your wellies on because we`er not baling it out again.I can`nt remember what eventualy happened to it.
Lets now go back to the communial shelter.At the time of the bombing I was fairly young and the shelter was taken very seriously by the adults,but not by us kids.It became a kind of youth club.It was about 25ft long x 5ft wide made of pre-fabricated concrete on a concrete base,with a wooden bench along each side and about two thirds below ground.The entrance was L shaped,down steps to stop the blast from near misses.there were`nt any lights.
Close to the shelter was a set of
swings and my first recolection of shelter play,as I call it,was conneceted to those swings.For some fortunate reason most of the girls in our group were older than the boys.A game evolved whereby the boys on the swings were Spitfire pilots who got shot down and parashooted off the swings,the girls were the nurses who took us wonded pilots to the hospital,(the SHELTER).to tend to our wonds.
Now you don`nt have to be a rocket scientist
to know that girls reach pubity up to 2 years before boys,but in those days there were`nt any rocket scientists about,(at least not on our side),and as we all got older the games got better, even though the boys were a bit puzzaled at first,non more so than me but I do know that the shelter became more popular than the swings.
Whilst all this was going on many other things were happening.
All our houses were fueled by coal which was in short supply.Coal deliveries had long since disapeared and families had to colloct coal fom the nearest coalyard which was the railway sidings.Fortunately there was one at Prestwich station,unfortunately coal was a rearity there.Now just think for a moment,no one a car,the next best thing is a wheelbarrow,not a lot of them about,so what what did we do? we made `boggies`. these consisted of four pram wheels a plank and a box,the front axel made to turn and steer the thing.The word that a coal train had turnd up spread like wild fire and to see the ensuing parade of manual transport making it`s way to and from the station was a sight I shall never forget.Although it was a rush to get there there was never any conflict. Children went to help with the physical effort necessary to haul the coal home,but for me it was fun,the community sprit was always there.This reminds me of some of the things we did to make the coal go further.Tee leaves,only after we had An used them 2/3 times,were saved till we had a lot then made wet again and used to damp the coal fire down to make it burn more slowly,we did the same with potatoe and other root vegitable peelings.Coal was our only form of heating.
There were quite a lot of allotments not far from us and as many of the men who had them were away at the front they all became used by those left behind.One annual fun event,which continued long after the war,as did food rationing,was collecting leaves for composting.This was an event that most of us children took part,collecting leaves was fun.
After the bombing had more or less stoped we aquired a BARRARGE BALLON in the field
at the back of our row of houses.I asume everyone knows what one of these things is,there big fat with three fins at one end designed to bring down enemy aircraft,What most people do not know is that they were looked after by women,the women of the Royal Airforce.
When the ballon is on the ground it is fixed to a to a large winch via a pully located in the middle of a large sheet of concrete.The operating of this ballon began to draw crowds, paticularly when it got windy ond it was UP.We soon dicovered that in these conditions if the ballon was wound in too fast it began to rotate in ever INCREASING circles with the cable swinging as low as 30 degrees from the horizontal.One night when a gale sprang up this happened and the cable knocked all the chimney pots off the adjacent houses.
As time went by and we all got older the air-raid shelter at the end of the street was put good use and perhaps, no we did grow-up more quickly than we might otherwise have done.
Yes for me the war was fun but sadly I was in a minority.
Finally, I like to dedicate these memories to one chum who sadly died whilst doing National Service in Germany in the early 1950s age 19 driving a Land Rover. He was John Kerly an only child.
Goodbye from John Conroy Evacuated from 2 Noris Street Salford and returning to 37 Leach Street Prestwich, where most of the above took place

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