Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú

After the ‘war scare’ of 1938, we were plunged into war on Sep 3rd 1939. It was Sunday after dinner that Mr Chamberlain made the announcement, I heard it on radio and immediately the siren sounded, which was perhaps an error or testing. People hurried outside wondering what would happen or what we were to do, when the ‘all clear’ sounded. Everywhere gardens were being dug up and ‘Anderson’ shelters put in. We were lucky ours was a dry one, not all were. There were bunks put in for sleeping or sitting on.

We became aware war was getting into its stride. Raids were long and heavy. Most children were evacuated and schools were closed, often used be civil defence. One near us had a barrage balloon, which now and then broke away in high winds and damages roofs with the trailing wires and attachments.

When raids were lasting from 5.45pm ‘till 8.30am the next morning, it was difficult to get back from work and, of course, straight down to the shelter. It was frightening to hear the whistle of bombs, and when they dropped a ‘stick’ of them, the ground shook and trembled.

We used to listen when the siren sounded, you could hear the guns sounding as the bombers came gradually up the (Thames)estuary to the Barking Park guns, which were huge and covered with netting camouflage. I knew many people who died and was always sad to hear about them.

Rations were very small, you couldn’t help being hungry. Some people would buy off the ‘black market’, but it was all stolen stuff run by draught dodgers and spivs. My family never had anything to do with it. It was hard to make do all the time without enough coupons. Adults were already grown and had some clothes, but we were growing and things always had to be altered and lengthened. Knitting wool and every material was rationed, except hats!

The black-out was a night-mare. A torch battery was like gold-dust. No one who’s been through it could perceive how black nights without any lighting could be, feeling your way home by a wall, bending to feel if there was a kerbstone. When my torch failed one time, I could not find where I lived, until I heard footsteps and a man who lived close by guided me back. I had nearly arrived at my home — but I couldn’t find it! I was only just 14 years old when the war began and 20 when it finished.

Doris / East London

21 July 2005

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.