Some family recollections

Discussion in 'Prewar' started by Donnie, Jan 5, 2009.

  1. Donnie

    Donnie Remembering HHWH

    I was looking through a thick folder i have of the Oldfield side of the families memoirs and i thought a few bits might interest you all (all of which are 1914-1918 related in some way).

    "In August 1914, Dad and Mum took us to Southend On Sea. We would play with the buckets and spades or watch Punch and Judy on the beach or sometimes have a donkey ride. The donkeys would be lined up on the beach and each would have his name on. If mum wanted a swim, she would go down to one of the bathing huts lined up on the beach and shut the door, get undressed and the attendant would pull the shafts and take it near the water. Mum would then go out the back door straight into the water. When she was ready, she would go in again and dress. The attendant would pull the hut onto the dry beach again. Dad would wander up to the shops aand buy us sticks of pink rock with the name Southend on Sea that went right through it. He would also look at the coloured picture postcards in the front of shops. Fat and thin ladies, all sorts of comical cards. Sometimes we would have a dish of cockles or mussels from one of the stalls lined up along the front. I remember war was declared while we were there; some violence broke out amongst the crowd so dad took us back to London."


    "Dads other brothers were Frank, Tom, Charlie, Harry and a sister Anne who went to Canada. She married a Mr. Robbins and was the mother of Harold, Wilfred, Doris and Jessie. Harold was a Farrier during the 1914-1918 War and while he was overseas he had a Dear John letter from the girl he expected to marry. She married his brother, Wilfred."


    "I remember the 1914-1918 war. Boy Scouts went round on cycles calling out "Take Cover" and afterwards, "All Clear". I remember seeing a Zeppelin coming down in flames. There was no rationing then and all the children would go up to the shops to get what food they could. We used to get hard lumps of cocoa butter and melt it to put on our bread. Also maize meal made from corn on the cob; it was very filling. Sam got a job as a Telegraph Boy cycling round all day delivering telegrams."


    "Dad sent Mum and us children to Exeter when the Germans said they were going to shell London with a big gun called "Big Bertha"."


    "Dad was a professional musician and was highly regarded in the music world. He was a flutist with the London Symphony Orchestra and played alongside fellow musician Eric Coates who later went on to compose many famous concert peices and marches. Dad gave up a lot of his spare time to give concerts to some of the worst wounded soldiers of the 1914-1918 War. They were in St Dunstans Hospital. Some had no limbs and were blind but they loved to hear music. Bady maimed soldiers were a constant reminder of the Great War in those years. When they were very young boys, Charlie and Gus used sell papers to wounded soldiers in the hospital ward. Charlie did most of the selling while Gus trooped behind him, holding a bundle of newspapers. They were always particularly fascinated by one soldier patient who was literally a basket case, having lost both his arms and legs; howerer, he was always in good spirits and constantly played cards by picking up the cards with his teeth and laying them down. Many years later, when Gus was working as a Tradesman, he went into this hospital to install some new plumbing. A voice called out behind him, "Dont i remember you?". Gus turned around and there was the same limbless soldier still in his basket. "Yes", said the soldier, "I was right. You used to come in here with your older brother selling newspapers.". This story had a deep impact on Gus, who related the story many times in later years.".


    "In the late 1920's, Gus purchased his first second hand motor bike and after much work, got it in good running condition. He decided to take it for a trip up to the Midlands to visit his brother Charlie who was at an RAF Station up there. While standing around chatting with Charlie at the Aerodrome, a young Airman came up on a Brough Superior, the fastest and most powerful motorbike around at the time. He and Gus talked about motorbikes with great excitement for quite a while. When the Airman left, Gus asked Charlie who he was. "Oh, thats Aircraftsman Shaw", Charlie replied. "He was the one who was out in the Middle East during the War. You know, the one they called "Lawrence Of Arabia". It was on the very same motorbike some years later that T.E. Lawrence was killed when he swerved and crashed near Clouds Hill, Dorset.".


    Right then, hope you enjoyed the read. I think it gives an insight into life from a different perspective.....the general person on the street. I might add, that Charlie was my Grandfather and was Best freinds with T.E. Shaw until his death. They used to ride motorbikes together.

    Cheers, Donnie
     
  2. Owen

    Owen -- --- -.. MOD

    Enjoyed that, got any more?
    Chap who lost all his limbs, poor bugger, seems he kept his sense of humour though.
     
  3. Donnie

    Donnie Remembering HHWH

    Hi mate,

    Thanks, i have a full account of "Boyhood in Knatts Valley and Eynsford in the 1940's" written by a family member of his first hand accounts of the war which has 7 A4 pages dedicated to...German POW's, D-Day, The Home Guard, Air Raids, Army and RAF in the Valley, Unofficial Mascot for the RAF, Rumours of Invasion, The first V1, Gliders, The BBC in wartime, Barrage Baloons and VE day. It is alot of writing so i will scan in the pages if you are interested :D....

    Donnie
     
  4. Donnie

    Donnie Remembering HHWH

    Part 1......Enjoy! more to come! :D

    Written by Michael Oldfield

    I was born in Dulwich, South London in April of 1939. Five months later the country was engaged in the second Great War of this century. In the ensuing two years we moved to Peckham, Orpington, St Mary Cray and other London addresses as my father pursued his trade as a sheet metal worker. At the height of the Blitz we took refuge, along with many other families, in Chislehurst Caves, a cold and damp environment, which caused me to contract a serious case of Bronchitis. Finally, when my father secured work with an Aircraft manufacturer in Croydon, he moved us out of London and the threat of Nombs to Knatts Valley in Kent. There we settled into a bungalow called “Bluebird” and it is there that my earliest childhood memories begin.

    The Home Guard


    My major recollections of the war are centred around my father being in the Home Guard. He, along with all the other eligible men in Knatts Valley, was part of Sevenoaks Battalion of the Royal West Kent Regiment, Home Guard. I can well remember watching my father, neighbours Sam Weatherly, Mr Smith, Mr Ralph, Mr Fayne (who ran a fish and chip shop in South London), Bob Grant and Sid Drummel (the barber from West Kensington) all marching around the Golf Course and Woodlands in various formations or banging away with their Lee Enfield Rifles at paper targets in a gravel quarry near Wrotham as they learned the art of soldiering. One of their more illustrious members was Captain Pelham who had a large house and estate where Knatts Lane ran into Knatts Valley Road. He had been a decorated Officer in the First World War but because he was a quiet and modest gentleman he enlisted in the Home Guard as a Private. However, once his First World War record was discovered, he was quickly promoted back to his Officer rank. The drillings on the golf course had to be moved to other locations because the field was deliberately covered with old cars, old farm wagons, abandoned gypsy caravans and other obstacles to prevent the landing of German Aircraft in the field, should an invasion occur. Since our main road, the A20, ran from Dover to London, it was always assumed that our local Home Guard would have been in the thick of it, had the Germans invaded.
    It is worthwhile to point out that the real men of the Home Guard bore little resemblance to the old codgers portrayed in the television series “Dads Army”. They knew that they were involved in a deadly business and they had no illusions as to what should happen should they have to face a German Army that had overrun Europe and had driver the British Expeditionary Force to the beaches of Dunkirk. Their no-nonsense training was done in earnest; but it did have lighter moments. All of the Home Guards instructors were Regular Army; many were World War One veterans. One tough old sergeant was giving them instructions in hand-to-hand combat. One by one, the Home Guard types were ordered to rush at him with their bare hands; with a few deft Judo moves, the old sergeant would send them sprawling in all directions. He pointed to one very tall, quiet and shy recruit named Smith and ordered him to attack.

    “I’d rather not, Sergeant.” Smith said quietly.
    “I didn’t ask for your opinions!” the Sergeant bellowed, “I ordered you to attack!”
    “I don’t think that it’s a god idea, Sergeant.” Smith mumbled
    “Right!” said the old combat instructor, “ Then I’m coming at you!”

    And with that, he came roaring towards Smith; there was a flurry of arms and legs and, to the amazement and horror of all the other Home Guard recruits, the old sergeant went flying through the air and landed flat on his back in the dirt. He shook his head to clear away the ringing bells and bird whistles and eyed Smith with a suspicious look.

    “Where did you serve?” the old sergeant demanded.
    “I was in the Grenadier Guards, Sergeant.” Smith said, apologetically as he helped the instructor to his feet.
    “Right then.” Said the old sergeant as he dusted himself off. “You can help me train the other lads!”

    One of the main tasks of the local Home Guard, should an invasion have occurred, was to blow up the embankment on both sides of the A20 between West Kingsdown and Wrotham in order to block the main road to London and then to fortify and defend this position. One can only imagine what their chances would have been against a German Armoured column.
    Apart from drilling, weapons training and inspections, the local Home Guard was also engaging in realistic manoeuvres with regular army troops. One of these included the famous Green Howards Regiment from Yorkshire. The Green Howards went into a field near West Kingsdown and camouflaged themselves; it was then the job of the Home Guard to locate them and flush them out. After two hours of diligent searching, the Home Guard could find none of them and were convinced the field was empty and that they were the victims of a hoax. Whereupon, The Green Howards officer blew on his whistle and his men all stood up, only yards away from where the local Home Guard were and so completely covered in tufts of grass and branches that even the local rabbits hadn’t seen them!

    As the months rolled by, the Home Guard obtained better uniforms and proper weapons. It was a great thrill for me when my father came home one night with his newly acquired Sten Gun. This was much more fun than my cowboy six-shooters and I quickly adapted to this new exiting but unloaded weapon. I used to take great delight in sneaking up behind my much-despised old grandmother with the Sten Gun and shouting “rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!!” and sending her into absolute fits because she was convinced that it was loaded!


    Donnie
     
    Steve G likes this.
  5. militarycross

    militarycross Very Senior Member

    Donnie, the story about the Veteran's Hospital made me think of being in one with my Company Commander a long time ago. We had gone to the one in London, Ontario. I didn't understand at the time why we were to dress in kilt and not our normal battle dress until I saw the tears in the eyes of the guys as we walked the hall for a bit, visiting with guys for whom this place was home. Haven't thought of that in forever, but you brought it back with that story. Thanks.
    Keep them coming.
    phil
     
  6. Steve G

    Steve G Senior Member

    the field was deliberately covered with old cars, old farm wagons, abandoned gypsy caravans and other obstacles to prevent the landing of German Aircraft in the field, should an invasion occur.



    :huh: WT ....?! And they'd have been vardo's too! Oh, wow! I'm drooling!
     
  7. Donnie

    Donnie Remembering HHWH

    Part 2! :D



    Air Raids

    Anyone who remembers the war years can recall the ominous rising and falling of the air-raid sirens, which signalled that German bombers were on their way. Like most other families, we had installed an Anderson shelter in out backyard. Even with the threat of Bombers overhead, a nightly trip to the air-raid shelter was a big treat for me; sort of like camping out. My father had installed some old car seats in the shelter and we had a fuel stove for making for making tea and several paraffin lamps for lighting. These lamps would give off a great deal of smoke which stung my eyes but at least with the stove, we could have a cup of tea in the shelter as we listened to the distant thump of falling bombs. Anderson shelters were a good defence against enemy shrapnel but not the British weather. After two days of rain, we went into the shelter one night, when the alert sounded, and found it flooded and totally unusable.
    Luckily, there was nothing of strategic importance in the valley or the surrounding neighbourhoods so what we saw during air-raids were enemy bombers on their way to London. There were Search Light Batteries at West Kingsdown and an Anti-Aircraft Battery at Easthill, on top of the valley. I can well remember one very bad night-time raid when, because we couldn’t use our Anderson shelter because of the flooding, we trooped down the road to my Grandmothers house, “Holmewood”, which was of a stronger construction than ours and might survive better should a bomb land nearby. My father was carrying me on his shoulder and I can remember looking up at the tracer shells going up from Easthill and arcing slowly across the night sky and even though I was half asleep. I thought it was marvellous!

    Donnie
     
  8. Donnie

    Donnie Remembering HHWH

    Part 3 :D

    The Army and RAF in the Valley


    To youngsters like myself, the war was a very exciting time especially in a quiet place like Knatts Valley where very little changed from day to day. Thoughts of death and destruction simply did not enter our young minds. In the spring of 1944 the build up for D-Day began and suddenly there were all sorts of activities in the valley. My cousin came to fetch me early one morning and we rode on our bikes (his bicycle and my tricycle) down the road to a large open field where lorry-loads of soldiers were being dispersed to set up tents and training facilities. We did not know it at the time, but these were the men who were being trained for the D-Day landings. Later that week, at the opposite end of the valley on the golf course at Woodlands, the RAF set up a barrage balloon site. I had never seen a barrage balloon before and was absolutely intrigued by these great silver dirigibles with their elephant-like ears.

    Donnie
     
  9. Donnie

    Donnie Remembering HHWH

    Part 4 :D

    Unofficial Mascot


    At last I had a mission in life and everyday I would pedal down to the barrage balloon site on my three-wheeler to watch them put the great silver beast up into the air. The balloons were connected to winch on the back of a lorry by a stout steel cable and, once they had inflated, they were raised several thousand feet into the air and thus prevented low flying German aircraft from avoiding Anti-Aircraft fire. Should an aircraft strike the balloons supporting cable, its wings would have been torn off. Our site on the Woodlands golf course formed part of the third ring of barrage balloons which surrounded London.
    Within a couple of weeks, I had become the unofficial mascot for the RAF men who manned the balloon and it was quite common for them to see me while driving their lorry down Knatts Valley Road and to stop and put me and my three-wheeler bike in the back and take me to the balloon site for the day. There were occasional treats when the Salvation Army or YMCA vans would visit the site and dole out sweets or chocolates to the RAF personnel and some of it came my way.
    Regrettably, the only aircraft brought down by our balloon was not German, but British. The pilot was probably off-course and getting low on fuel and may have been trying to set his plane down in one of the nearby ploughed fields that night when his wing clipped the steel cable of our balloon and down he came. Luckily, he was able to pancake into the golf course and survive, but his aircraft collided with all the old cars and wagons that had been placed there and was a total wreck. Next day, dozens of people from the valley went up to the site to survey the wreckage and scavenge for bits and pieces. I can remember seeing two older boys rolling he planes tail-wheel down Knatts Valley Road as a souvenir.

    Donnie
     
  10. Owen

    Owen -- --- -.. MOD

    I liked this bit.

    “Where did you serve?” the old sergeant demanded.
    “I was in the Grenadier Guards, Sergeant.”
     

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