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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Lin Freeman of Radio Derby CSV on behalf of Mr Omar Fowler and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

1940
By Omar Fowler
(9 years old at the time and living
in Aldershot, Hampshire)

I woke up suddenly, the air raid sirens were wailing their warning once again. I quickly got out of bed, put on my coat over my pyjamas and trudged with my mother through the night and into one of the community air raid shelters just around the corner on 鈥楾he Green鈥�. We would probably have to stay there for the rest of the night as the sirens were now sounding more frequently and there seemed little point in returning home until the morning.
In the distance, we could hear the sound of 鈥榗rump鈥�,鈥榗rump鈥� and the sound of the 鈥楢A鈥� guns firing into the night. We had seen the searchlights scanning the night sky as we walked through the darkness to the shelters. The noise of explosions seemed to be getting nearer, they seemed to be only a few miles away. It was then that there was a buzz of conversation around the shelter 鈥淭hey鈥檙e bombing Tongham station!鈥�. There was a general movement towards the entrance of the shelter and then outside into the night.
We lived on a hill and 鈥楾he Green鈥� where the shelters were situated, overlooked the rooftops. Once outside we could clearly see fires and explosions in the distance. Tongham was only about 3 miles away and unknown to us at the time, an ammunition train had pulled into the tiny station for the night.
The German intelligence had been pretty good and their navigation had been spot-on! Unknown to the British at the time, their accurate navigation was due mainly to the German Lorenz beam system, transmitting precise co-ordinates over the target area. In addition to this they had a spy situated high up in the 鈥楬ogs Back Hotel鈥�, only a mile or so from Tongham station! The spies signal light had been spotted by a Home Guard outpost, also positioned on high ground a few miles to the south.
The bombing continued for some time and the explosions vibrated through the darkness.
Finally the drone of the bombers moved away into the distance, leaving flickering fires and few explosions at the scene of the smoking station. It was later revealed that a brave railway worker had uncoupled one of the blazing ammunition wagons from the rest of the train, thus preventing a major disaster. An heroic act for which he was awarded the George Cross!
The German spy was caught at the Hogs Back Hotel and later taken to London where he was tried and subsequently executed.

The town of Aldershot was now packed with troops, mainly Canadians, with a few other nationalities such as Dutch and Poles etc. The troops far outnumbered the civilian population, although at the week-end 鈥榞irls鈥� came down from London in droves, to be entertained in the town, the parks the countryside...anywhere!
We had all been issued with gas masks a year before and had to carry these around in their little cardboard boxes usually positioned over the shoulder on a pieces of string. It was an evil trick of the ARP (Air Raid Precautions) Wardens to release a cloud of tear gas in the middle of the town on a crowded Saturday afternoon. People who had not bothered to carry their gas masks suffered the consequence of painful streaming eyes!

Tear gas was not the only problem to contend with during a walk around the town, there was the war as well! I remember walking around Marks & Spencer's with my friend, the 鈥榓lert鈥� had already been sounded, but the town of Aldershot was rarely bothered. 鈥淚t was in a hollow and they couldn鈥檛 find us easily鈥� was the myth!
On this particular occasion we carried on walking around the store, when suddenly a warden could be heard shouting from a nearby stairway 鈥渉ostile aircraft overhead!鈥� There was widespread activity as some people headed for the doors, but my friend and I quickly dived under one of the counters with a young shop assistant keeping us company. Luckily Aldershot was not the target and after another shout informing us that the enemy aircraft had passed over, we ran out into the street just in time to see the black shapes of enemy aircraft heading north, towards London!

Life continued more or less in the same vein, with frequent air raid sirens sounding. 鈥楾he Alert Has Sounded鈥�, would be splashed onto the cinema screen over the moving figure of Humphrey Bogart or some other screen idol. It was then up to you to decide whether to head for the nearest shelter, or to sit it out until the 鈥楢ll Clear鈥� was flashed onto the screen.
After 鈥榞oing to the pictures鈥� it was time to head for home, either by walking or by catching a bus. As the blackout was enforced, the nights were pitch black, except for the dim light of torches. Batteries for the torches were a problem, they were in great demand and many shops ran out of supplies. 鈥楴o number 8鈥檚鈥� was the sign scribbled on a piece of cardboard and stuck on the counter. The 鈥榥umber 8鈥� was the popular battery size and no number 8鈥檚 meant that you would probably have to walk home in the dark. Alternatively you could catch a bus and then sitting on the wooden slatted seats, be carried towards your home through the pitch black night.
Luckily we still had our bicycles and my friends and I would cycle for miles around Ash, Seale, Frensham (the ponds had been drained to prevent German aircraft using them as a navigation aid), Tongham and along the 鈥楬ogs Back鈥� (A31).
It was on one of these forays that we witnessed a memorable event. The 鈥楬ogs Back鈥� (part of the North Downs) commanded an excellent view for miles around. There was usually something of interest to see from that vantage point. On one occasion we came across a Wellington bomber that had crash landed. The pilot had been forced to carry out a 鈥榖elly landing鈥� across two fields sloping up towards the crest of the Downs, finishing up only a few feet away from the main A31 road.
It is only reflecting in later years that one now realises what a superb piece of flying saved the aircraft and crew from disaster! The landing site was a gradual uphill slope, the width only of two small fields.

It was on the 13th August 1940 that we pedalled our way along the A31 with its excellent view overlooking the distant landscape. In the distance we heard the sirens sounding, it was yet another air raid warning, but we were reasonably safe where we were. We could quickly dive into a nearby ditch if anything came in sight. It was then, that in the distance, we saw the small dark shapes of aircraft heading towards the ground in a shallow dive. There was the faint 鈥榗rump鈥� 鈥榗rump鈥� of explosions and a smoky haze rising from what we rightly judged to be Farnborough Airfield (the Royal Aircraft Establishment, Farnborough).

It was only years later that I learned the facts. On that day, Farnborough was bombed by a flight of Junkers 88 A-1鈥檚 from the KG54 squadron .

I was now getting alarmed as my mother had been working at Farnborough for some months, working with a party of women concreting and extending the Farnborough runway. This was the time when women were being called up to carry out work of national importance, rather than being allowed to sit at home and 鈥榣ook after the kids鈥�.

My mother had told me various stories about amusing incidents that happened while she was working at Farnborough. I remember one incident when an approaching Lancaster bomber passed very low over their heads, causing them all to scatter. A little while later 鈥渁 very young man鈥� came up to the female working party and apologised for being so low on his landing approach. The 鈥榶oung man鈥� was the pilot鈥�.I wonder if he survived the war?
Now that runway might well have been blown to bits and where was my mother?
We all decided to cycle back to Aldershot. Eventually I arrived home and waited. My mother usually arrived home about five thirty, but on this day the hours ticked by and she eventually arrived home about eight o鈥檆lock that night.
Because of the bombing the workers had been kept in their air raid shelters for several hours, while the casualties and damage to the airfield was being cleared. Then eventually, the workers were put on buses and by a long round-about route, driven back to Aldershot town.
(German interest in the Royal Aircraft Establishment continued, although there was never another air raid.)
German aircraft could often be seen flying around in the airfield circuit, but with British markings, for this is where captured or 鈥榙owned鈥� German aircraft were flown and evaluated by the 鈥榖offins鈥�.
After the air raid on Farnborough, every time the 鈥榓lert鈥� sounded and there were enemy aircraft in the vicinity, a protective fighter cover of three aircraft in a 鈥榁鈥� formation would fly around in the airfield circuit (passing over our house). This consisted of a Hurricane, leading two Gloster Gladiator biplanes, one on either side.
They did see some action, as I recollect a rain of cartridge cases falling on Holly Road, from the conflict above the clouds.
We were lucky, as apart from the odd blast effects shattering a few windows, no bombs fell in the town in 1940. However there was a time when we sat rigid in our seats, listening to a screaming bomb hurtling downwards, after a lonely German aircraft had decided to jettison it鈥檚 remaining bomb load over the town. The bomb landed in Weybourne (opposite the Running Stream鈥� pub), killing a horse and blowing the roof off my old 鈥楿ncle Herb鈥檚鈥� lonely cottage. He was a WW1 veteran and subsequently refused to move from the shattered building, where he lived for the rest of his life.

They were dark days in 1940, with an imminent fear of air raids and invasion. As boys we amused ourselves by collecting shrapnel, (usually from the AA shellfire). Things did not improve as the year wore on and as Christmas approached the winter seemed colder and darker than usual.
The snow fell more heavily in those days and at East End School (Aldershot) the prefects struggled into the classroom carrying a crate of milk bottles. They were the small, third of a pint bottles and it was so cold, the milk had burst open the cardboard disc tops and it stood above each bottle in a column of frothy white ice.

The crate was placed down on the floor, next to the old black tortoise stove. This old fire probably dated back to the early Victorian era, the same date as the school.
The town had been swelled by the arrival of Canadian troops. They had arrived to help out the 鈥極ld Country鈥� after the disaster in France. The garrison now numbered some 22,000 troops of all allied nations.
As Christmas approached, the Canadian soldiers went out of their way to try and make our lot a little happier. They would pull up in an army lorry next to the school playground and the soldiers would throw out small gifts to the eager waiting crowd of youngsters. Sometimes it was balloons, maybe some sweets and sticks of gum if we were lucky.

Although sweets were on ration, very few of the shops ever had any! As soon as a shop received its small delivery, the word would swoop around the school like wildfire and there would be a rush to buy a few sweets while there was still a chance.
The teachers and pupils did what they could to brighten up the school for the Christmas party. For days we would be pasting little coloured strips of coloured paper together into rings and joining them until finally we had produced a decoration that stretched across the classroom.
Hopefully there wouldn鈥檛 be any air raids until after Christmas. When the sirens sounded, we had to leave our desks, form up into two鈥檚 and with our gasmasks hanging over our shoulder, march around to the back of the school and into the underground shelters. They were dark and damp with only the odd torchlight illuminating the darkness. Sometimes the sirens sounded three or four times a day and we had to drop our pencils and pens once again and move off quickly to our underground retreat.
Finally the time arrived for the Christmas party. The decorations were hung across the school assembly room , lit by the few solitary electric lights. We all had to make the best of things and a few bottles of 鈥榩op鈥� and some homemade cakes helped to brighten things up. The school echoed to the sound of 鈥楪ood King Wenceslas鈥� and other well known carols. This was followed by the Nativity play bringing the message 鈥楶eace on Earth鈥�. We sat and watched, wondering if we would ever see it鈥�..
Little did we realise that many years of war still lay ahead of us, with continued air raid alarms and the arrival of the 鈥楧oodle Bugs鈥欌��.if you heard the engine stop, then duck!
But that was another time and another year to come!

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