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Chapter 2

1939-1942 War, Blitz and Evacuation

It was high summer, and August, and rumblings of discontent and rumours of an impending war with Germany was on everyone's lips. I was now eight years old, and of an age to begin to take notice of the behaviour of adults around me, there seemed to be a subtle change going round, in attitudes, much talk of "stiff upper lips", and "getting by", or "we'll manage". We still went to school each day, or played in the road outside till it was nearly dark, with my two sisters and brother Micky, born in 1937, who was just toddling at that age. Then, in September, 1939, on the 3rd, came one of the most fateful broadcasts of the century, from the then Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, to say that "this country was at war with Germany". From that moment forward, life was to be very
different from that previously experienced, although the immediate effect of the announcement of war was of great concern to all, not much happened to affect our daily lives. The house that we lived in at that time, 1 Hardy Road, was a three storey building, that is to say, there was an attic bedroom built in under the roof of the house, with a gable window which looked out over Farlington, towards Eastney and Farlington Marshes. This was occupied by a lodger that we had taken in, to help pay the bills, Charlie Parker by name. We were up in this room looking out of the window, across to the marshes, when
the sound of low-flying aircraft could be heard, rapidly getting nearer, and to our astonishment, three or four fighter planes suddenly appeared to our left, and roared
overhead, flying inland. Charlie spotted something about the planes which we had not seen, and that was the emblem of the Luftwaffe, on the wings and tailplane, and he
shouted to us to get down quick, upon which we all rushed downstairs, and told Mum what had just happened. As there was no gunfire or any kind of disturbance, it would appear that they were on a reconnaissance flight, probably taking a daring daylight chance of photography. It was the first of many such incursions into the sky over Portsmouth that would follow. At about this time, announcements had been made that everyone was to be equipped with an Anderson air-raid shelter, which would be erected by the men and families concerned, in their back gardens. A lorry duly arrived at our home, and dropped off the sections of this shelter, together with the nuts and bolts which would hold it all together.It was designed to be placed in a pit, dug out beforehand, and covered over the top with as much soil as was possible to pile on, with steps which led down to the entrance door. It was in the shape of an inverted "U", made of galvanised corrugated steel, and when erected, would be large enough to take eight bunk beds, and a small table. Dad and the neighbouring men had been busy digging out the holes in back gardens for some weeks previously, and had got down to around four feet. The shelter was some 6 feet 6 inches in height, with the doorway top about 5 feet from the base level, so for an adult, it was necessary to duck your head before entering. The work of assembly was quickly done, and the whole thing lowered into the prepared hole, then all the children were called into service, with buckets and spades, filling them up and tipping the contents over the top of the shelter, and down the sides, until the only part showing was the front doorway. Dad finished the top off by planting grass seed, which quickly germinated and covered the area above. (Strangely enough, in later years, when we returned after the war ended, the same hole, which had been filled in by the builders who had repaired the bomb damage to the house, was re-excavated, and a garden pond put in!!). there was then a lull in activity, called by historians, the "phoney war", when nothing much happened. The building opposite us in Hardy Road, the Sunshine Laundry, was taken over by the Ministry of Defence, and was to be fitted out as an assembly point for the wings of fighter aircraft, which in later years, we learned, were the famous Spitfires. This decision was to have far reaching effects on the Downer family and their neighbours, because it meant that our little backwater had now become a prime target for the German bombers.
The next big occasion was the issue of gas masks, and gas rattles, and the erection of gas warning signs in each road. The gas rattles were issued to Air Raid Wardens and Special Constables, to be used if a danger of gas bombs being dropped in the vicinity occurred, the Warden would go out into the surrounding streets, using the rattle to alert people to the danger, and to put on their gas masks. The rattle was very similar to the ones later used at football matches, (now no longer seen), and was a simple device consisting of a handle and a rotating arm which held a strip of wood, which would "rattle" against a star shaped wooden device fixed to the end of the handle.
Gas masks were issued to every person living in the country, with the first priority going to the large towns and cities, where the risk of attack was greater, and you were told never to go out without your gas mask, which was carried on a loop of string, attached to a small box , and hung around your neck, over one shoulder.There were several types made, the largest being for babes in arms, which was large enough for the baby to be placed inside, and operated by a handle pump on the outside, next there were the "junior" sizes, for children, generally up to 14 years old, then the adult model, which had a rubber nose stuck on the front in some cases, which vibrated when you breathed out
forcibly!! Many were the times when the gas masks were put on, and to this day, I can smell the rubbery scent of them, we would have "practice" raids when the sirens would sound, all would don their gas masks, and go into the nearest air raid shelter, until the local warden told you it was safe to come out, after the "all clear" siren had sounded. The gas signs, which were put up on corners of road junctions, consisted of a short post, with
a flat wooden plate mounted on the top, but at an angle, so that the face of the plate was visible, and this surface was painted with a substance which would react to the presence of gas in the air, and change colour, I think it was either green to yellow, or yellow to green.
Air raid shelters were also built at the ends of each road, usually brick constructions with a reinforced concrete roof, and sandbags piled up against the sides and around the door. If you were caught out in the open when the warning siren sounded, which was a wailing sound, changing in pitch, up and down, you made for the nearest shelter, which was signposted with A.R.P. (Air Raid Precautions) signs wherever you happened to be. Much training was given to people in the first six months of the war, both at the cinema, or over the radio, or by the local warden paying you a visit, or going to the local hall, in the use of gas masks and air raid shelters, until it became second nature to take your gas mask along with the house keys, whenever you went out. Then came July 1940, and the first horror of the blitz visited the City and people of Portsmouth. Some of the first raids over the city were centred on the Royal Dockyard and its surroundings, and the night sky would be lit up with the flashing of exploding bombs and the flare of incendiary devices, to be followed by the glare of fires set off by the raids. The attacks gradually spread outward from the city centre, as much of Old Portsmouth was flattened, and new information gave the enemy bombers new targets to attack. The night that Portsmouth gasworks, situated on the edge of what is now Portsmouth city airport, was attacked, was memorable in that you could stand at our front door, nearly 4 miles away, and read a paper by the glare of the fires which raged as a result. Then came the fateful night late in 1940 when, at high tide, the sea walls around
Langstone Harbour, which protected Farlington from flooding, were breached by the bombs, and coupled with a continuous downpour of rain, resulted in most of the Anderson shelters in our area being flooded out, and unusable. This then, added to the
terror facing us in those dark days, because the only alternative was then to lie beneath the large double bed which had been brought downstairs, and piled high with mattresses on top, or sit under the stairs, which was supposed to be the safest place short of a direct hit. The night inevitably came when the bombs started to fall around us in Farlington, targeting the Waterworks, which were up on Portsdown Hill above us, about half a mile away, and the factory opposite us. The night would be made hideous by the sound of screaming bombs falling toward you, the roar of explosions all around, and at about this time, an anti-aircraft gun was placed at the end of our road, and added it's pounding to the general bedlam. I can remember lying under the bed, and crying with fear, until the drink of warm milk, laced with rum, knocked you out, or the "all clear" sounded, and you were allowed out, tired and trembling, to the morning air. What devastation then met your eyes…………..great gaps where houses once stood, piles of rubble in all directions, huge craters in the roads and pavements, filled very often with oil, where the oil bomb had not properly exploded, and when you went to school, (as we still did for a while, until all the children were evacuated, and the school closed ) and tried to call at your chum's house, as you always did, you found that the house was no longer there, and your pal buried beneath tons of bricks and roof tiles, along with the rest of his family. They were very sad and traumatic times for everyone, but despite it all, people were drawing ever closer together, in a common bond, peculiar to the British, sharing rations, those who could make tea, did so for all and sundry, in fact, Mum was renowned by the local fire brigade, who had an engine stationed in our road, for her instant supplies of tea to them when they were on "standby" outside. Eventually, they gave her a supply of tea and milk, to keep their "peckers up", along with a Woodbine, or a Capstan Full Strength cigarette,when they were on "standby"!! It was becoming increasingly obvious that the children of the
City and its environs were at greater and greater risk, and so the evacuation procedures were put into place, children going out on buses and trains to the countryside, sometimes
not very far away, into North Hampshire and Berkshire. We were to follow them very soon. During the last days of going to Solent Road School, air raids were becoming quite commonplace, and we all knew where the nearest shelters were on our route to school. On this particular day, however, one which will remain in my memory until the end of my days, we had all arrived safely at the school playground, and the warning siren sounded………..before we could move, an enemy fighter aircraft roared in low across the school, with machine guns blazing, and the resultant carnage was terrible. We were all rushed into the shelter, and told to stay there, even if the "all clear" sounded, until the teachers said we could come out……….which was some hours later, after a clean-up had taken place, and then all sent home. This, then, was the reality of war, the horror and desperation which it generated, and the life-long mental anguish that it caused many children, subjected in their most impressionable years to agonies of spirit and mind beyond belief, to be then sent away from their homes and friends, to go to a totally alien place, where they were mocked by the local children for "running away from the Germans!!"
Shortly after this episode, decisions were taken to move us away from Farlington, Dad had a sister who lived in Mattingley, near Hook, in North Hampshire, Auntie Floss, she lived in a farm cottage next to what was the Flux's farm, and we were invited to go there as a temporary measure, until we could find somewhere else to live.
Trying to find a removals firm in those times was an impossible task, with fuel rationing and so many men called up and going into battle, until one day, Dad spoke to a neighbour who lived in Second Avenue, around the corner from us, who said that her husband had got a job as a van driver with Huntley and Palmers Biscuits in Reading, and happened to be there for the week-end, before going back to Reading with an empty van.
This then, was the way out for us, and before long, as much of our stuff that could be loaded into the small van, together with us, sitting on a sofa in the back of the van, was
crammed in, and we set off for Mattingley and Rotherwick, to Blue House, where Auntie Floss awaited us.

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