Doodlebugs, Air-raid shelters, Gas-masks

Before my time! (Just)

I'm sure my mother made enormous sacrifices to keep us - my father (police, which was a reserved occupation) and two growing boys fed. I sometimes wonder how, and if, today's housewives and mothers would have coped...

It has certainly taken me back in time reading all your interesting accounts of WW1"
I was born in1932 and remember running down our street when some playmates told me the Germans were coming, not sure what the Germans were but I thought I had better hide.
We had a shelter in our backyard and my Mum Sister and Brother would go there when the sirens went (my Dad died when I was eighteen months) Mum had her hands full trying to stop my brother dashing out to collect shrapnel when the bombs fell near, all his friends had a competition going to see who could collect the most.
If the warning siren went after midnight we didn't have to go to school until after lunch so my first thought was "what time is it"
I recall that there wasn't any street lights and we had to have blackout curtains up at the windows, the street wardens were very strict about that and they would rap on your door if they saw the merest chink of light.
Food was rationed of course and it was extremely difficult to manage with the small amount that you were allowed, when I go to the supermarkets now I cant believe the choices we have today and of course most people take it for granted that we have such a vast choice,understandably as they have never known what it was like to have so little and I hope they never have to.
My mother used to say to us :eat your dinner I will have mine later: which I suspect she didn't. I could write a book about my memories of the war but I suspect I won't

And it certainly was the Hawker Hurricane that 'won the Battle of Britain' - accounting for 60% of enemy aircraft destroyed, while the remaining 40% were shared between all other aircraft AND the ground defences!

I was six years old when WW2 started,and ten when it finished. So I didn't see all that much of the dreaded Hun. Quite a bit of his bombs and doodlebugs,but not a lot of him.
I did have one encounter though that I'm sure must be pretty unique.And as I'm the only left alive now that knows about it,I thought I'd jot it down
In 1940 I was seven years old and living in Enfield,just to the north of London. The summer of 1940 was one of those rare,hot summers with not a cloud in the blue,blue sky for days and weeks.
We didn't see much of the German Air Force that early in the war.They were all too busy trying to bomb Southern airfields into oblivion.There was just the occasional dog fight high up in the clear sky -too high for us to distinguish which of the specks were ours and which the enemy. So when we spotted one spiralling clumsily down to its doom we cheered automatically, convinced it could not be one of our invincible RAF boys.
Then,one quiet sunny afternoon we were sitting in the living room – we didn't have lounges back then – my father sorting out some more greyhounds to lose his money on,and my mother and me reading. Quite abruptly – no warning at all - we were overwhelmed by a tremendous roaring of engines, seemingly coming from directly outside the window.
For a long moment we stared at one another in shock. Then we rushed out to see what was going on.
And were confronted by a real- life dogfight,spitfires versus messerchmitts, almost at ground level.
If you have ever attended an air display and watched as a brace of fighters racing along the runway at very nearly zero feet – that is the level of the dogfight that confronted us. To this day I do not understand why several of the diving,zooming,twisting aircraft did not end buried in the ground.
Apparently the Germans,convinced the RAF were fully committed to the south of London, had decided on a sneak attack against the industrial plants to the north. But Goering had made one of his many errors,and the RAF had kept most of their spitfires in reserve,on airfields out of bombing range.( Leaving the hurricane fighter to win the Battle of Britain ) Thus the sneaky messerschmitts were 'bounced' and had to fight for their lives.
Of course,as I stood,seven years of age, with my parents on the garden path watching the unexpected display I was aware of none of this.
Nor was I ,or apparently my mother and father, aware of the danger we were in.We watched as if we might have watched some marvellous 3- dimensional film.
Then a plane appeared,flying slow and level over the roof of our house. So low it's wing tip just missed slicing off the chimey. The cockpit canopy was open,which I knew was a universal signal that this pilot was no longer in the fight – out of ammo,out of fuel,damaged -and was seeking a place to land. He flew the length of our garden,then the garden behind, and finally disappeared from view beyond the roofs in the next street.
We saw the pilot quite clearly. And he saw us. Looking round he smiled at us – we could make out the white of his teeth – and waved.
Naturally we all waved back,and cheered. Then my mother gave a nervous giggle. 'He's a German!' she said.
I looked and saw the swastica on his fuselage.,and we all laughed at ourselves for cheering a hun.
So that was my little adventure. The day when,in the middle of a deadly aerial combat,one of the enemy found time to smile and wave at me. I of course never new what happened to him after. But I hope he landed safely,spent the remainder of the war in comfortable confinement,and eventually returned home to his country. Where perhaps he had a boy of his own,waiting for him.

An only child. The return of my father from the war and my consequent demotion at the age of eleven from being my mother's 'little man and sharer of the many problems' back to 'the child' is my worst memory.

I was three years old, we were at Grans house and someone had given me a toy machine gun, you turned a handle that clicked on a bit of tin and it made a ratatatat noise. We heard the doodle bug coming towards us, I went to the front door of the house and pointed my gun at the doodlebug and "fired". The doodlebug engine stopped and it fell into a nearby field. For years and years (I still believe it) I shot it down.

I was born in 1940 and at the time lived in Harlington on the northern edge of what is now Heathrow. My father worked on radar at EMI in Hayes - reserved occupation. Heathrow was an RAF station - my mother told the story of how she was carrying me as a baby a few weeks old across to see my grandmother who lived behind us and as she was walking through the pathway between the gardens she heard a plane, looked up and saw a swastika and the face of the pilot! When she got to my grandmother's she and my aunt went mad - my mother had failed to hear the siren - must have been me crying!
In 1943 we moved from the maisonette to a house in Bedfont - the other side of the airport which they bought and my parents lived there for the rest of their lives. We had a Morrison shelter in the dining room with the mattress from my parents bed on the floor and the mattress from the cot slung on its base at their feet. My father as well as working long hours was a seargent in the Home Guard and also did fire watch in the area.
Before we had the shelter we used to go into the under stairs cupboard when the sirens went and of course one night got locked in - Dad had a toolbox in there and was able to take the latch off from the inside.
When we visited my other grandmother in London for years after the war the scenes of devastation were dreadful as we went from the Tube station on the bus. Whilst travelling on the tube on one of these journeys an American soldier came and sat next to me and opened what to me seemed an absolutely HUGE box of sweets and offered them to me. I was so astounded I could do nothing - my mother realising took a couple and thanked him and said that was plenty for me.
The anti aircraft guns were sited on what in later years became the school playing field and I remember seeing the searchlights going up into the sky. Ican remember the VE day party and going in the fancy dress parade as United Nations - just being formed I think - I had a skirt made of blackout fabric and my father stencilled the names of all the countries over it. The top was made form a couple of flags - I still have those and also my fathers home guard helmet etc plus photos of him and my uncles digging out for my grandmothers Anderson shelter.
For some years after the war we could walk across what is now Heathrow to get to my grandmother's in Harlington - at that time Hatton Road, which now stops at the junction with the Great SW road went all the way to Harlington Corner.
It must have been shortly after the war and we had POW working building prefabs - we had to walk past them to get to the shops - my mother never went out without wearing a hat and they were always lovely - I can remember being annoyed when one started calling out to her as we went past - I thought it was very inappropriate ( must have been all of 5) but it made me look at her again and I can remember thinking how great she looked in her hat! I can also remember very indignatly telling my father when he came home. We thought the prefabs were wonderful because they had a fridge!
I can remember walking to the local shops when sweets came off ration and seeing queues snaking along the street outside all the shops which sold sweets and chocolate.
Since retiring I have gone back into schools a few times and taken all the bits and pieces - helmet, gas mask and bag with the tubes of cream in, photos etc -and talked to classes of children who had WWII as their history topic.
I think it is lovely how they still have service of remembrance at the cenotaph in France on 8 May after a service in the local church and whole villages turn out including many children and they all lay flowers.

Lived in London throughout the second world war, not evacuated like most of my friends, but when they were home we enjoyed playing the in the bombed out buildings, collecting shrapnel, and doing all sorts of things that would be OH! so anti 'elf and safety. We were bombed out, and we have a friend who was staying with his aunt and his home was blown out of the ground, with his mum and dad. He had absolutely nothing to left remind him of them, or his childhood, because he was too young to remember too much, which I found very sad.

Mmmm.

Yep! A few of us Oldies still alive and kicking (just about!!)
I was born at a very early age. in 1932 - still not got over it!!

Hi Dorsetpennt,

Some mems of my evcuation!
We were lucky, because our Mum had a baby , my younger bro. and I , we were kept together as a family group.
We had to meet , with others ,to get on a coach, to be taken to a main line London station - can't remember which one, but it went from Kennington, and crossed the river. That part of London was all warehouses on the waterfront. The fires and smoke were still very evident from the previous night's air raid. A few weeks later the whole area was subjected to intense fire bombing. The East End was almost obliterated in places!

The train was loading with children and adults, all with cardboard identity labels attached. Blinds had been drawn over the windows, presumably to stop us seeing the destruction all around!
A little girl in our carriage trapped her fingers when the door was slammed shut. Arriving at Cambridge we were met by officials who took charge of the "chaos". Every child was given an injection against TB, which was quite common then.-
I fainted!! Next, something like a cattle /slave market. We stood and local people came and chose who to have!
Again ,we were lucky. Being a family of four, made it difficult to accomadate us all. We went to an elderly gentleman who lived alone in a two bedroom house. It turned out to be a very good billet. He was a retired RSPCC oficer, and he gave us the freedom of the house. apart from his own rooms.
Mum was taken ill, and had to go to Hospital. Our old befriender had died a few weeks earlier. After family discussion we moved in with family friends in Feltham. Again we were lucky,as a short while after leaving Feltham, their house got a direct hit and all were killed!
What memories!

Iwas born in 1944 so no war time memories other then the ones my parents told me. We left the country in 1946 and returned in 1953. I remember my grandparents picking us up from Euston Station, our boat came in at Liverpool, and they drove us in two cars due to all the luggage, to their home in Uxbridge. I do remember driving through London and seeing large gaps between the buildings which I later learnt was due to bomb damage. My grandparents' air raid shelter in the garden had been turned into a potting shed. My brother and I loved to play in it and called it 'our hut', but my mother couldn't bear to go inside it brought back to many bad memories of the Blitz - being near an airfield didn't help during the war.JessM sort of resent your remarks about the English twiddling their thumbs until the Americans arrived. I think my late father who would have something to say about that. I'm sure you made your remarks in jest but do be careful not to offend. I'm sure there are a number of Gransnetters lost their fathers or have quite strong memories of the war.

I was born in 1932.
Our family were on holiday at Brighton in 1939 and I remember Chamberlin, the PM, announcing that we were at war with Germany.
The coast was immediately made out of bounds and masses of barbed wire suddenly appeared on the beaches.
I was 7 and we were told to sign in at the local School.
This meant that the Schools were overcrowded, So we had half days, alternately!
After a few weeks nothing seemed to be happening, so we returned to London.
We stayed as the Blitz started. London being heavily bombed in 1940-41, we were evacuated to Cambridge! (Where I studied, of course!) Hence my posh accent - I am from the" Lambeff Walk" area of "Sarf Lunnun" - innit?

Our evacuation is another story, but a few days later, our air raid shelter, which was a communal one, dug out from the central green space, known as "The Square", got a bomb on the corner which was where we had our sleeping space.! There are so many memories! Our house, opposite the shelter, was badly damaged, while the houses other side were totally destroyed..

I could write a book ab out my "adventures! I once saw a V2 rocket explode in the sky. We counted from the flash in the sky to the "rumble" and estimated it about 10-15 miles high! We were playing at throwing the ball high to each other, when we saw the flash and first puff of smoke!

That's all for now folks!!

I dunno -- a lot of Utility (CC41) babies here! (I used to tease my brother by saying that he was just a 'Utility' baby - he did get cross!)

I was born in 1960. My dad was called up in ww2, he will not talk about what happened, and most from that generation will not, main reason too painful.

I was born in 1946 but ration books are still part of my childhood memories. The sirens were still being tested weekly and we still had the Anderson shelter in the garden.

I am post war, I'm afraid. Just! Part of the boom.

Yes, Hunt I realised that about 10 seconds after I had posted - should have previewed it first. I rescinded at once.

We did not have a posh Morrison shelter - we had a chunky dining-room table.

Elegran , what you describe so well was an Anderson shelter. The Morrison shelters were posh ones that were inside the house and were like a cage with a steel top and struts and mesh sides .They were as high as a table and had a door in the side so that you could crawl in.And, yes ,Jessm, there certainly are some GNs who are over eighty!

For many years after the war, our fire station used the air-raid siren to alert fire-fighters to the fact that they were needed. It could be heard all over the town and beyond. It always made my hair stand on end.

I was 4 when the Battle of Britain began. I remember being out for a walk with my mother and seeing formation after formation of planes going overhead. Somebody picked me up and ran with me - I remember seeing the leafy stony path as a blur under me as I was carried along. We went to the nearest house, down into their shelter. I remember, years later, being in the bath and hearing a doodlebug approaching and going down to where my brother and I slept, under the stairs. Another doodlebug fell in the village, in the night, killing an old lady. The village was also hit by a V2 rocket - I heard the explosion on my way to school, 7 miles away. My father went on 5 North Atlantic convoys to Russia, on an aircraft carrier. I learnt to distinguish the sound of 'our' aircraft from German aircraft. I heard a recording of an air-raid warning siren recently - still brought a feeling of panic. My parents separated soon after the war and later divorced.

I was just going to add to the thread when I had genuine déja vu. I had already contributed!

I wasn't born! Not til dec 44

Pleased to say I was born just 3yrs after that. I remember my mum with ration books though still up to the coronation and lots of bombsites around well into wth 50s though.