WAR EXPERIENCES

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Win Hilling. Stories for my Grandchildren

WAR EXPERIENCES

We were in Chiswick, London, England when war was declared and Sylvia was a few months’ old. Mothers were given the opportunity to allow their children to be taken to live in country areas. I would not agree to this altho some of my friends did go with their children. Bus loads were evacuated this way. My parents were concerned for me and my child.

We all got so very tired because night after night the sirens sounded and we had to scramble into our raid shelters that were in our garden. They were so cold and camp and we could only sit up as there was no room to lie down. The house we had was 3 storey and there were people living in 2 flats and we had the ground floor. One night I felt so exhausted that I decided to have Sylvia close to me, stay in bed and take the chance of a bomb falling on us. However when I failed to go to the shelter the neighbours came crashing into my bedroom and made us go to the shelter. People were so concerned for each other during the war. My husband was an accountant in the Hammersmith Town Hall and had to go underground somewhere to work during the raids. Our french windows and most of the other windows had been blown out by bombs. My father managed to purchase some land in the middle of fields at Effingham, Surrey. We were lucky to be able to purchase a small hut (which we enlarged) to put on the land, so we eventually left London and lived much more peacefully for a while. Then the bombing started all around our little hut.

One night when oil bombs had been dropped the fields around us were alight. They were corn fields just ready to be cut – very dry. An air raid warden came and told us to get out and follow him. We had never seen an air raid warden before because we were living so far from a road, so we were very surprised.

My sister had a hut nearby and she also had a small baby. We wrapped the babies in blankets and tried to follow the man but it was difficult because the blankets got caught on blackberry bushes. My sister ran ahead of me and then I heard her call out “Don’t come to the left because I have fallen down a crater.” I carefully went to the right and I also fell into a crater. We were unable to climb out because the earth was so loose and caused us to go further down with every movement. After a while we heard the air raid warden calling us. We were so scared he hadn’t waited for us but tore on ahead.

It took time to get us out and then we proceeded to the shelter that he was taking us to. A large hole had been dug and the frame of an iron bedstead had been put over the top and earth had been piled on to it. Once inside I could see the edges of the bedstead were only overlapping the top of the hole by an inch or two and looked most unsafe. The walls were wet and we sat on a plank. As soon as it was daylight I insisted on returning to our hut. A nearby chicken farm with hundreds of chickens had received a direct hit and there were no chickens to be seen – they had all been buried. What a night! I called to see how the lady who ran the chicken farm was and I found several women with their heads under the kitchen table and their bottoms sticking out! They couldn’t get under any further. Well I just stood and laughed and we all laughed and that released the tension.

We learned later that a large number of Canadian forces and their machine guns were stationed in nearby woods and the Germans evidently were trying to bomb them. We didn’t know they were there, but the Germans knew!!

Very soon after this we were told to pack a small bag and have it ready at all times because we were the second line of defence and should the sea area be attacked we would be collected in an army truck and taken somewhere safer. Fortunately this didn’t happen.

Life in the hut was very basic. We had no water or electricity and cooked on a primus stove. The toilet was away from the hut and we had a rope leading from our hut to the toilet and nearby shelter in case we needed it on a dark night. Water was available from a stand water pipe quite a distance away at the edge of the chicken farm. It really wasn’t too bad and because everybody had problems, nobody seemed to grumble. Food was a problem. We had coupons for ten pence worth of meat and 2oz butter and tea, etc. The locals were always served first so we sometimes were unlucky but we managed. I was able to exchange my sugar coupons for tea or butter sometimes, with my friends who had a very sweet tooth.

My parents had a hut nearby and my mother had very bad asthma and bronchitis. Living in the hut was not good for her so I went round the village begging people for a room for her, with no success. Later I did manage to get a small empty shop with a room and toilet/shower. We all moved into that. Mum and Dad had the room and Sylvia and I had the shop. The floor near by the shop door had been worn away and there was a huge gap that made the little shop very cold.

From the library I obtained a copy of “Gone with the Wind” and sat up in bed at night reading it with a torch. This helped to take my mind off our situation. Soon after than I went shopping with Sylvia and became so ill that I sat on the curb of the road and couldn’t go any further.

Fortunately we were close to home and I sent Sylvia who was 4 or 5 years to fetch my father. I got to bed and was very ill with pneumonia. My parents were very worried because b husband was in India with the R.A.F.

The doctor said we must have better accommodation, but how could we find it? I had spent many days and weeks searching but couldn’t find any anywhere. A lady in the village came and told us she had found a small house for us. Maybe the doctor contacted her – I don’t remember.

The house had to be heated before they attempted to move and Dad lit the fires and really got the house warm – in fact hot! I was put into bed and the lady who found the house for us, called to see how I was.

It was she who told me I had and my crisis would occur during that night. A walking stick was put beside the bed by my Dad and I was told to knock on the floor if I needed help.

Gradually I recovered, much to my parents’ relief. Never shall I forget “Gone with the Wind”, the book that was so absorbing that I nearly lost my life.