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WW 2 鈥� 1939 onward - The Thornton鈥檚 war Part One 鈥� Crisis.

In 1939 my father understanding the dangers of fascism enlisted and fought with Britain鈥檚 7th armoured division in North Africa, subsequently with the 8th army in Cyrenaica, Libya, Tripolitanaia and Tunisia, across the Mediterranean Sea and through Sicily to the mountains of Italy. The American 5th army joined in at Salerno (better late than never). Then came the battle of Normandy, each invasion followed by ferocious inland battles.

One parent Family

I was 8 months old when WW 2 commenced In September 1939. Soon Hitler commanded his bombers to obliterate the capitol of London. My sister Monica were born during the August 1940 Bombardment. I was just 20 months old in September 7th 1940 when the Blitz of London reached its climax causing my mother Kathleen, infant sister and I, to lose each of the dwellings found or allocated to us during the Blitz of New Cross Gate and Deptford, South-East London. Throughout this intense violence, German aircraft dropped cluster, incendiary bombs and land mines, seemingly at random.

During this time enemy aircraft, for whatever reason, machine-gunned the non combatant populace, and I were twice separated from my mother. On the first occasion a policeman thrust mum, clutching my sister into a Manze鈥檚, pie and eel shop, (a workers restaurant) adjacent to Deptford Church Street. They鈥檙e being no room for all of us; he fled carrying me into the men鈥檚 underground public loo, housed, as it were then, beneath the junction of Deptford road and high street. I was reunited with my mother following the welcome sound of the 鈥榓ll clear鈥� sirens later.

On the second occasion, my mother, aunt, infant sister and I were passing New-Cross Gate railway station, when the air-raid siren sounded. We had little time to seek shelter before aircraft machine-gunned the station and its populace. I understand three civilians were killed and a number injured. I became lost in the melee and was taken to a Salvation Army sanctuary.

I could recite my name but not my current address. We had been bombed out of two homes recently, therefore it took my mother to register that I was missing and the police description of the youngsters recently found before she were notified and, was able to collect me as I and other lost souls were earning our evening meal, stood, singing (much as at a Church meeting) for our supper in the dining room, it being (and possibly still is) the practice for waif - strays and vagabonds.

Bombing was never accurate during the war. When the aeroplanes were hit by a missile, be it fighter protection before bombardment commenced, or our AA or ack-ack (anti-aircraft) fire, their bombs would be jettisoned and fall over a wide area.

We were fortunate to survive the 57-day, incessant 24-hour blitz in 1940. History shows that in one day alone, 448 people died when the German bombers blitzed and set alight to nine miles, both sides of the river Thames, with West-Ham and Bermondsey being almost destroyed.

During this time nobody apart from the emergency services and air-raid wardens had the nerve to emerge from their shelters. Albeit wartime records show that Criminals didn鈥檛 baulk at seizing the 鈥� fresh opportunities 鈥� offered.

I understand that Londoners were relieved when our young pilot heroes beat the Germans at their own game in the summer of 1940 in what鈥檚 called the Battle of Britain. I use the word heroes, in the true meaning of brave persons, as apposed to the throwaway expression used nowadays.

During this time my mother, sister and I lived in high density housing, without a garden in which to accommodate a bombproof shelter. By August 1941, two of our residences, also a number of neighbours homes had been flattened or blown apart by enemy bombs and, suicide by people who had lost family etc were known.

Until 1942/3 when large bombproof shelters were built, whenever the air-raid sirens sounded it was possible to enter the sandbagged area built onto the front of most Banks, Hotels, and all governmental places.

It was thought safer by some who remained at home during the bombardment, to hide wherever possible. We knew of some neighbours who would shelter inside cupboards rather than leave the鈥� Safety鈥� of their homes, although one couldn鈥檛 stay at home forever.

In those days most mothers would remain at home as housewives to look after their husband and children, and it was considered a full time job. No home had a washing machine; water was boiled to perform the laundry. Refrigerators and automatic dishwashers were unknown, unless in the Hotel Trade. Those with a vacuum cleaner were also fortunate

Often we would visit an aunt at her home at New Cross, South-East London and, whenever warning sirens sounded we would take refuge in her dank Anderson Bomb Shelter provided by the state.

This shelter was a corrugated iron igloo, 2.4 metre by 2 metre and 2. 2 metres
tall, into it my grandfather built two double twin bunk - beds, there wasn鈥檛 a fitted door, for with the roof being curved, a skilled carpenter (which granddad wasn鈥檛) needed to be employed. Inside the shelter were room for little more than four small persons, the base being let into the earth for stability, and covered in soil for added protection.

After the 鈥楢ll 鈥� Clear鈥�, (a local siren indicating it was safe to emerge, as the enemy aeroplanes had left,) mum would walk home, I holding onto her skirt or coat and clutching my Gas- Mask in its cardboard container. Children鈥檚 masks were red, and known as Mickey Mouse鈥檚 due to the shape of their eyesight area and long nose.

Everyone was issued a gas mask prior to and throughout the war. Many people found dead in the bombed areas were still wearing their gas masks.

During this time mother didn鈥檛 use our perambulator (Pram) neither did countless other mothers, it occupying the space of three adults in a shelter and, was definitely a hindrance as one scrambled for cover into shops, restaurants etc.

On our way home following the bombing, it wasn鈥檛 unusual to find staggered rows of flattened houses, with people in tears as they attempted to remove neighbours and family members etc from the burning rubble of their homes, the victims trapped there having decided to remain at home during the bombing.

When the local siren sounded a warning of the approaching bombers, we had four choices, but little more than minutes to decide how we safeguarded ourselves.

1. If trapped outside whilst shopping etc, we might shelter in what鈥檚 called the Tube. This was London鈥檚 Underground Railway 鈥� usually safe, it being situated metres below ground and having a thick concrete ceiling. Mum had to purchase a ticket to gain entry, but once inside could stay forever if need be. Many a night we have sheltered here, having nowhere else to go or live.

2. Those having Anderson Shelters were usually safe unless it received a direct hit from a missile. None of our dwellings had a garden large enough to take an Anderson Shelter, we were therefore provided with an alternative.

3. This was a Morrison Shelter. A table usually kept in the living room or kitchen. It was 6鈥�. 6鈥欌�� (2mt) long and, 4ft (1.2mt) wide by 2鈥�. 6鈥欌�� (O.75mt) high. The tabletop was reinforced with metal plating, and the table, once assembled, took two adults to transport.

We had a Morrison Shelter and, when the air-raid warning siren sounded, mother would gather us as she crouched beneath this table, clutching my infant sister to her chest, and with me sitting between her legs, all of us wearing our gas masks, until the all-clear siren sounded, after the air raid. finished

4. Another way of protection from flying debris indoors were to shelter beneath the stairs, a table, a piano, or even hiding in the coal cupboard which many homes had built beneath the stairs. No real protection if the house received a direct hit by a bomb, but useful if the house suffered a near miss, whereupon imploding glass, falling ceilings etc would scatter about the room.

One evening whilst visiting my mother鈥檚 youngest sister, on the sound of the air-raid siren we sheltered beneath my aunts Morrison Shelter table. My aunt hid beneath her stairwell. During the air raid, I could see beams of light flashed across the sky as the searchlights tried to illuminate enemy aeroplanes. Following the 鈥橝ll 鈥� Clear鈥� siren, the adults made the obligatory pot of tea, milk or water for we kids.

An ARP (air-raid warden) having sheltered nearby visited us, carrying the obligatory stirrup pump (a metal cycle pump used to collect water from a bucket, and douse the flames). He borrowed a bucket of water and extinguished a small blaze nearby.

On confirming we were safe, albeit some windows were broken, he comforted an elderly gentleman sat upon the front door step crying, 鈥� They have hit the boozer the buggers.鈥� The warden advised us the public house, also two buildings nearby, had received direct hits from the bombs.

The warden seemed quite relived to find we were unhurt, It were he who advised us that our abode nearby, the third place we had lived in since my birth and bombed over the past five weeks, had been severely damaged and was ablaze.

Apart from the nuisance of loosing ones abode, all, or most of our possessions were destroyed. Everything 鈥� clothing and food, necessitated allotment by the government and, without ration books, one were unable (unless using the highly priced black market) to purchase food etc.

My mother were similar to most mothers pre-war, wishing to embrace home and children, unlike today鈥檚 supposedly money-obsessed brand- aware materialist young women, wishing, or having to be both parent and bread winner.

My mother鈥檚 income of two pounds a month was a percentage of my father鈥檚 military allowance, a weekly wage of seventeen shillings and sixpence, or almost 拢4 pounds monthly. Mother received this allowance monthly and collected it from the post office, as are today鈥檚 Pension or benefits.

Mother, then aged 25 were the oldest of three sisters. My aunts Molly aged 23, and Polly at 21 were also married, their husbands fighting abroad with the British army and air force, albeit neither Polly nor Molly had children at this time. Polly鈥檚 husband was taken prisoner at the Singapore debacle and died later of disease.

Aunt Molly was employed locally, thus able to help financially when mother had to restart building a nest for her family. Although we never starved, many times our two daily meals, a breakfast of milk, toast and dripping and, an evening meal of milk, bread and dripping, kept flesh upon our bones.

Dripping (rarely seen now days) was a spread made from the melted fat of a roasted joint of meat. When cold it was used much the same as Butter or margarine and cost pennies if purchased from a butcher, costing nothing for those having set aside the juice from the family joint of beef, lamb, or pork, roasted for the weekend lunch.

The first time we were 鈥� bombed out, 鈥� our dwelling in South Street, Greenwich and others collapsed, killing a number of residents. Luckily we were sheltering in the Tube, but lost everything apart from that we had with us. From then onwards, mother kept the identification card etc, needed to prove who we were and collect her monthly allowance, on her person.

Others awaiting replacement documentation weren鈥檛 so lucky, possibly suffering hunger for it wasn鈥檛 unusual to wait weeks for proxy documents. Wheels turn slowly in governmental departments, in checking claims were accurate. Also with the number of homes destroyed and the change of circumstance, many pets would starve to death, despite cats developing into excellent mousers.

Sickness.

With the constant sound of air-raid sirens, and anti-aircraft bombardment, screaming bombs, the dull menacing explosions and quivering reverberations, I at the age of two developed what鈥檚 diagnosed as Epileptic Fits.

These blackouts occurred as the air-raid sirens sounded. I would collapse - rigid with fear and loose consciousness. This paralysis would continue until well after the sound of the bombing ceased, whereupon, with nursing, I would regain awareness, sweating and confused, remembering little of the proceedings.

After this diagnosis, a midwife visited me following the violence to instruct my mother on how to immerse me in a bath, basin or kitchen sink of cold water, speedily reducing my temperature.

This was considered the suitable way of solving said problem in those days. These fits affected me until late 1942, when bombing in areas directly about me abated, albeit with considerably less air-raids, at times it seemed as if all hell were let loose.

Mum must have been superhuman? One morning whilst using the two-penny (less than one English penny nowadays) public transport tram, the air-raid siren sounded.

The driver leapt out, and disconnect the overhead electricity connections, immobilising said means of transport. We abandoned the vehicle; mum carrying my sister as I ran alongside them. On reaching a grassy bank of earth, I collapsed and fell into a fit.

With everyone and their dog scrambling for shelter, mum was in a quandary. With no-one to help, she wouldn鈥檛 have time to reach the shelter, leave my sister with a warden or whoever and, return to collect me as I lay rigid upon the grassy bank, before the shelter were full, or closed.

Luckily mum was able to accost a middle-aged dentist, as he was about to secure the entrance to his basement surgery situated below the grassy mound. The dentist refused to enter into the fray, therefore mum handed my infant sister to the woman dental assistant, and quickly left and gathered me, then returned carrying me into the dentistry.

I wonder what the dentist and his staff thought. Here stood a young woman, an infant and an unconscious two year old accompanied by screaming sirens warning that bombing were about to commence?

The dentist, retired to shelter within his surgery bunker and, throughout the air raid, we took refuge within the dentistry entrance. Mum took the opportunity to bathe my face with water from the dentist鈥檚 washbasin and, apparently I regained tranquillity soon after the 鈥榓ll clear 鈥� siren sounded.
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Crisis relocation

The potential invasions by Germany combined with their persistent bombing were causing problems not only to the London, but also to other Eastern Industrial areas and their residents.

Terror, confusion and anger at the unstoppable destructive power of the bombing were evident to the British coalition government, who decided to clear the blitz areas of non combatants, especially Britain鈥檚 lifeblood, its children, although at first no-one in authority seemed concerned about people in British towns and animals were left to fend for themselves.

The evacuation of some three million people to rural locations beyond the reach of German air attacks deeply affected the nation. This was the first time an official evacuation had ever been deemed necessary and the experience of mass evacuation - the biggest and most concentrated movement of people in British history was alarming most people.

The majority of people who were evacuated were children, and for that reason the operation was codenamed Pied Piper, ironically named after the rather menacing German folktale.

In March 1942 my mother was ordered to leave the London area, to be relocated (evacuated). We were classic escapees. With mother a married lone parent, an infant daughter, and son not old enough for school, keeping our family together proved to be impossible.

At this time, my aunts were employed at a Munitions Factory. Mother was able to join them as a 鈥楪ofer 鈥� (go for this, and collect that) and by necessity they had a cr猫che, therefore apart from the bombing and the severe lack of food lost through said problem, we were making do.

My mother and sister were evacuated two days after I. They travelled by train (courtesy of the state) to Wales. Here the Local Council had arranged for them to be billeted with a married, middle-aged, childless Welsh couple. Mother and my sister were issued with a blanket, but lacking a bed or mattress, they slept upon the stone floor of the scullery, adjacent to the kitchen.

My mother and sister received modest food, usually a broth. Mothers hosts wouldn鈥檛 allow her to help or prepare anything, she were also forbidden to remain in the house during daylight hours, therefore mother and baby daughter traipsed about seeking other billet鈥檚 during the day.

Mother could cope with the rough diamond, sharp tongued London people, but the civility of her Welsh hosts and far from polite neighbours also the fact that there were little chance of a relocated person finding employment, proved intolerable. Finding a further billet with so many people flooding into the area, proved impossible, therefore within a week, mother returned to the London hellhole and, settled in with her younger sister residing at Evelyn Street, Deptford, South London.

This return to the capitol was difficult as throughout the war travelling by the railway and bus public transport system were complicated with wartime regulations. There were a number of Lorries 鈥� mostly military, very few private motorcars and purchasing a road map was impossible and with the impending threat of bombing, little chance of hitching a ride home.
Continued

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