Memories of Wartime 鈥 Don Lane
Birmingham, 11 o鈥檆lock, September 3rd 1939. I was aged 7 and threequarters and was listening to Neville Chamberlain鈥檚 speech on the 鈥榳ireless鈥 telling us that we were now at war with Germany for the second time in 25 years. I grabbed my wooden rifle and went outside to shoot at the Barrage Balloons. The 鈥榩honey war鈥 had started as nothing much happened for some months and our Standard 9, jointly owned by my father and maternal grandmother was sold for 拢12 instead of being laid up for the duration of the war. However, I spent several hours watching the RAF deploy a barrage balloon in the local park. Some of my extended family evacuated themselves to Kinver, Worcestershire, but my parents refused to let me go, and later they also refused to let me go to relatives in the USA, which was fortuitous as the boat on which I would have most likely been travelling was sunk by enemy action.
In the previous year I remember that there was much family discussion of Chamberlain鈥檚 performance in negotiations with Hitler. The discussion was at the extended family鈥檚 weekly get together to play small table snooker and billiards. My parent鈥檚 generation were very much against Chamberlain but maternal grandma finished the discussion when she said that 鈥渋f anything more is said about Mr Chamberlain I will leave the room!鈥 Of course, Chamberlain was a former Lord Mayor of Birmingham before he went into National Politics.
The Council Schools closed 鈥 hooray! But I did not get away with it and was sent to a private school that happened to be very near. My school was evacuated for a short time and shared a building with a country school each meeting for half a day. I continued at the private school. My parents, my 4 months old brother and myself lived with gran behind a bakery chain shop 鈥 she was the manageress. Gran was struck down with a stroke and was unable to work anymore, which meant that we had to leave our home. We moved in May 1940 to another part of the city. It was a new house which we rented. The day we moved coincided with the first air-raid on Birmingham, August 9th 1940. Although Birmingham became the most blasted city after London it was never mentioned by name on the wireless 鈥 it was just a 鈥渕idland town鈥. Brummies could not really understand this and I remember feeling quite put-out that Coventry was always mentioned but never Birmingham. The explanation given since was that Birmingham was the centre of the industrial powerhouse behind the war effort. I am unable to see the logic behind this reasoning, as presumably the Germans knew where they were bombing and Coventry was also part of the industrial clout of the west midlands and it was not hidden.
My father did not waste any time in obtaining an Anderson Shelter. With the assistance of a family friend (and a little bit my myself) it was erected at the bottom of the garden and covered with sandbags and soil which later had large vegetable marrows grown on it. Bunks were built in the shelter. My family tried using the Anderson shelter for some time but it was very damp and they had great difficulty in getting me to stay out of bed in the house when I was woken! They eventually decided to take their chances and not to use the Shelter. I remember vividly the whaling of the sirens and my paternal grandmother had a wonderful time when this happened as she lived directly under one that was mounted on the police station next to her house. The droning of the bombers above, the lighter faster sound of the fighters, the search-lights and the crash of the anti-aircraft guns in the local park also come to mind. When the guns fired it was like daylight. A house not far away received a direct hit leaving a large crater and my father in his tin hat was out dealing with incendiary bombs with sand and/or a stirrup pump. The shrapnel sometimes showered down. There was a tip behind our house which received tons of rubble cleared up from air raid damage. There were lots of things on that tip to interest small boys even though they were forbidden to go on it. It also produced a lot of flies in summer.
Although my father worked ridiculous hours as a machine-shop foreman, did fire-watching with the ARP and then then joined the weaponless 蜜芽传媒guard 鈥 I think it had just been renamed after starting life as the LDV 鈥 and I remember lying in bed at night while the band practised their favourite piece (perhaps their only piece!) of music 鈥楳arching Through Georgia鈥. As father had so many irons in the fire this led to the issue of three kinds of gasmask 鈥 heavy duty for the ARP, service type for the 蜜芽传媒guard in addition to the normal civilian issue. Dad also managed to 鈥楧ig for Victory鈥. When he had cultivated the virgin soil in our garden he then started on the field alongside 鈥 during the war you were allowed to cultivate any piece of ground that you liked, to help to swell the Country鈥檚 food store. I was sent out to collect the horse manure from the road as horse and carts were much in evidence, for example, for milk and coal deliveries. My little brother insisted on helping collect the horse droppings although he did not quite have the idea; instead of shovelling up the precious material and putting it in the bucket, he picked up the stuff with his hands and put it on the shovel before transferring it to the bucket!
By the time we moved to the new house the Council Schools had re-opened and I went to another school which was a walk and a bus ride away. Public transport always managed to keep going although some single deck buses were carrying flat balloon-like structures full of coal-gas (?) to fuel their engines and later on some double decker buses towed small trailers which had water-gas plants manufacturing fuel as they ran.
One of the male teachers joined the RAF and wrote an amusing letter to the school about his 鈥榮quare.bashing鈥 in the mud. The headmistress (Miss Fry) had a nephew who was a Fighter Pilot and she brought him to the school to tell us about his experiences. We were very impressed especially about the eight guns of his Spitfire (Hurricane?) forming a six feet diameter wall of fire.
For handwork we used to bring bits of wood and tools from home to make models of aeroplanes and warships. Our physical education consisted of 鈥榙rill鈥 and rounders in the playground. We were provided with 1/3 pint of milk each day which often froze in winter and was thawed on the central heating radiators. Away from school concentrated orange juice and codliver oil (ugh!) were provided for children by the local office of the Ministry of Food.
We had air raid practices at school and trouped out to the brick shelters in the playground. I guess that they would have given very little protection except from falling masonry. We also had gas-mask sessions practicing putting them on and off. My baby brother had a mask which was rather like a crib with a transparent top which covered him completely except for his legs, and was provided with an air pump which his carers had to hand operate. When he was a little older he was given a 鈥楳ickey Mouse鈥 mask instead.
Institutions, including schools, were asked to raise money for the war effort and they could say what they wanted to contribute the money to, and name their purchase. As it was highly unlikely that we could have raised the money for a Spitfire (拢5000?) it was decided to try for a Barrage Balloon (拢900?). Most of us also took money every week for National Savings Certificates.
My 9 month old brother managed to get infantile paralysis (poliomyelitis). I believe he caught it from me as I had the same symptoms but the paralysis did not develop in me. My poor mother had to take him to the Children鈥檚 Hospital two/three times a week for electrical treatment. She had to catch two buses and pick her way through the hosepipes and debris from the previous night鈥檚 air raids carrying my brother in her arms with his right arm elevated in an aluminium splint. In the school holidays I went with her and the physiotherapists allowed me to control the current for several children undergoing treatment, but for the older children I tended to give slightly more current than I was supposed to as I thought that would get them better more quickly; this caused some complaint! I think I fell a little bit in love with one of the physiotherapists (Miss Smith who got married but was still called Smith) 鈥 I think they were called masseuses in those days.
Picture Houses and Theatres opened again and I remember going to see George Robey in pantomime 鈥 my gran had ordered a taxi as a treat to take us through the snow but it never arrived, so we had to rush for the bus and missed some of the performance. My dad took me to see a film starring the comedian Harold Lloyd (one of his favourites) at the newly opened Gaumont cinema in central Birmingham. I would have rather seen Disney鈥檚 鈥楩antasia鈥 which I saw was showing at another picture house, as we walked over the hosepipes still dealing with the fires caused by the previous night鈥檚 air raids. We went to the 11 am matinee and dad had taken dripping sandwiches for my dinner 鈥 I soon got hungry and asked for my sandwiches. I was told to wait. I asked in a louder voice and eventually at such a volume that every one in the theatre could hear. My father nearly sank through the floor!
He also took me to see a bomb disposal crew steaming out the high explosive from an unexploded bomb. This was right in the centre of Birmingham near to the Hall of memory. Wartime football at Villa Park (Football League North and Northern Cup Football) was also on the visiting list and later when we moved to Burnley we sometimes went to Turf Moor. In those days footballers often did not play for their own clubs but for the nearest club to where they were stationed. I remember that Blackpool had an seemingly unending supply of stars posted to their area.
I also kept myself occupied by building dens either from stuff deposited on the tip or by digging holes in the sandy soil. This was highly dangerous as they were liable to collapse. I was a big fan of radio and especially Tommy Handley (who my parents thought was just plain daft), 鈥業n Town To-Night鈥, 鈥楳onday Night at Eight鈥, Harry Hemsley and his imagined children, 鈥楳usic While You Work鈥 and 鈥楤and-Wagon鈥. Comics were still available but on a fortnightly basis instead of weekly. I used to get 鈥楻adio Fun鈥 and sometimes 鈥楩ilm Fun鈥 (if I could persuade my mother) and as I grew older 鈥楾he Hotspur鈥 and just occasionally 鈥楾he Wizard鈥 or 鈥楢dventure鈥.
My father was sent to South Wales to start up a Lucas factory there and eventually the family followed him moving into a prefabricated asbestos house. My youngest brother was born here. I went to another Council Junior School before being transferred to a Secondary School as I had passed the 11+ in Birmingham. Neither was a very happy experience due to me having a very strange accent to display in South Wales.
My father was then transferred to Burnley to set up another production line. We joined him there in a very large rented terraced house, in which some actors (including Tyrone Guthrie) had lived when the Old Vic was evacuated to Burnley for a time at the beginning of the war. I had to go through another difficult time at Burnley Grammar School because of my strange accent.
One Sunday dad took me to his works; the other workers had the day off while he got the machines set up. He allowed me to operate one of the lathes to try to produce a machined part but I managed to scrap it. This particular line was producing gun-turrets for bombers and/or Bolton Paul 鈥楧efiants鈥 and I was allowed to test one out.
My sister made her appearance in Burnley after the end of the war. At the end of the war in Europe the news was sent around the school to the sound of general cheering.
Although food and clothes rationing was quite strict I never remember being hungry or short of clothes 鈥 necessity being the mother of invention. Clothing was recycled, for example, woollen clothing was pulled apart and re-knitted 鈥 not the most pleasant material to use evidently. The 鈥楤lack Market鈥 flourished in major and minor ways and I can remember some school friends who thought that we were a very peculiar family because we would not pay 6d for black market egg. Friends of ours in Wales kept pigs and commited the sin of killing one of them without informing the authorities. It is a fact that besides (or because of ) the shortages the general health of the Nation improved.
Our American relatives were quite convinced that we were starving and occasionally sent us a food parcel wrapped in 鈥楲ife鈥 magazines. Thoughts about food bring memories of queuing. If any little extras came into the shops a queue formed and there is more than a grain of truth in the joke that during the war if anyone saw a queue they joined it without knowing what they were queuing for. The hours I spent with mother or grandma standing in line has left its mark even today as I avoid a queue like the plague.
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