Friday 9 November 2012

INTRODUCTION

I was born in 1934, so in 1940 I would have been about 6 years old when the first enemy activity was recalled. I was too young to keep a diary, and whilst I do remember quite a lot, I am unable to put a positive date to all of these recollections. They are not necessarily recorded in any particular order, nor can I guarantee that they are all 100% accurate.  However Kent County Council Archives have hand written reports from various local ARP Wardens on record, which put a date and time to many of the incidents that Ted recalls; which (he says) proves that he didn't make it all up!

66 years on (2005)

     Once one gets into committing one's memories to paper, the old brain is stimulated, stirring up more and more recollections, which come to the surface - however, some of these memories are now rather vague. The same applies when one chats to people of the same age or older. A few of those memories that appear in this document may not be directly related to War activities, but hopefully will reflect what life was like for us youngsters during that period, and just after the war was over.
I realise (to my surprise) that I can relate to odd incidents in that go back to when I was about 3 years old (i.e.: 1937), certainly at a time which was before Childsbridge Lane was widened, and that was before the war.
     We lived at 29 ("Wendy") Childsbridge Lane, Kemsing, Near Sevenoaks, Kent.
We were fortunate to be one of the few homes to have the luxury of a telephone, as our telephone number, 'Seal 79', will illustrate. The telephone-exchange was in a small building by the recreation ground in Seal. There was no dialling system. One simply picked up the handset, waited for the operator to ask you for the number you required, and then she would make the connection by plugging you into her switchboard by hand.
    The village policeman was based in the 'Police House' at Otford, situated near the village pond. His name was Mr. Parris (Ernie). He always appeared smartly dressed, very erect, and he always looked very serious. He wore the usual policeman's uniform, but with a peaked hat, and black gaiters. He got about his patch on an upright, regulation police bicycle, which may have had a Sturmey-Archer three-speed (That detail I can't remember). Once to my horror and surprise, he caught my mother cycling down the footpath, which runs at the at the side of St Edith's well, down to the Post Office, thereby, taking a short cut from Mr Wellbeloved's, the butcher's shop. Mr Parris gave her a sharp telling off. I couldn't believe that anybody would dare tell my mother off!
    Later I discovered that he was really quite a nice, and fair, chap underneath his outwardly severe exterior.
    I was prompted to write this account of what I could remember of World War Two after a discussion with my son (Who was then 37 year old ~ in 2001); who, during our discussion, happened to remark: "Well of course, nothing much ever happened around here". How wrong he was! Kent wasn't known as: "Hell Fire Corner" without good reason.
    ILLUSTRATIONS. Most of the illustrations are drawn from memory, and some of the scenes are only a rough representation of some of the dramas that took place. They are drawn with considerable artist's-licence. The proportions, and scale, are generally fairly inaccurate. I have taken some photographs of military vehicles, which were preserved vehicles on display at various shows, etc..
Part of a formation of some sixty Heinkel bombers, which had just passed over Kemsing village, flying at low altitude. They came under attack as they flew overhead, when we were in the 100 acre field*, which was situated between Beechy Lees, and Childsbridge Lane. The hills in the background are supposed to be Pol Hill, and Fort Halstead; towards which, the bombers were heading. The 'cloud' (Orange coloured) in the middle of the picture, was, I believe, a Heinkel Bomber exploding. It was on fire as it crossed our field of vision, from right to left. The parachutist in the scene was the last of the three crew members that we saw bail out;


                                                   
Illustration showing part of a large formation of maybe a hundred enemy bombers, which had just flown low over Kemsing, and may have been heading for Biggin-Hill airfield.  It came under attack immediately above us, standing in the stubble of our 100 acre cornfield ion front of our home.   5 parachutes left the just before it exploded into a great ball of fire. 
  
   The crew baled out just before the aircraft exploded, and they descended, by parachute, into St. Michael's School grounds.  The plane was blown to smithereens in mid air. I suppose parts of it must have come down somewhere.
    When we first saw the bombers approaching us, they were flying low, and heading up the valley towards Biggin Hill. The 'attack' involved hundreds of aircraft. For example: on the 15th. of August 1940, no less than 500 bombers attacked Kent, and they were accompanied by 1250 fighters - which are huge numbers by today's standards. The 15th. of August was a Friday, and we were returning from Russell House school (which was then situated at the bottom of 'The Chase' ~ it was a cul-du-sac then), so one can deduce from that, that, that day, must have been a working day, or for us: a school day. West Malling Airfield (which was not that far away) was attacked on the 15th., but I don't know if Biggin Hill was. The main attack on Biggin Hill was in the 18th., which was a Sunday, and yet again on the 19th (A Monday). There was another raid on Biggin Hil, by a small force of Junkers, on the 30th. of August.
    I haven't been able to resolve this puzzle, because in August we would normally have been on holiday from school. I suppose the exact date isn't that important, and raids of one sort or another, were taking place all the time.
* The 100 acre field that we knew then, is now an estate of houses, which comprises what were origionally mostly council houses, with private (some self built) ones developed later. The 100 acre now has several residential roads on it, e.g.: Northdown Road, Collet Road, Highfield Road, etc. 

Thursday 8 November 2012

Chapter 1

FIRST BOMBING RAID


My father was still living at home, and I am fairly sure that he had not yet 'joined-up' at this early stage of the war.
    My brother and I started to realise that something was up. I remember that the front door was open. There was a bit of a commotion outside, and we saw my parents in an agitated state, and pointing with out skywards, with outstretched arms. It was a bright and sunny day. Two or three aircraft were flying fairly low in the distance towards Sevenoaks. They didn't look very big, nor did they look at all threatening to me. When my parents realised that we were also outside, and trying to see what the excitement was all about, they hustled us back indoors in a panic. They insisted that we should each have a cork, from a bottle, and hold it between our teeth, and then we were told to stay under the enamel-topped kitchen table (For our protection!). Well we didn't want to miss the 'fun', so we disobeyed 'orders', and followed them back out to the drive, at the front of the house. We were just in time to see the aircraft drop some bombs, they looked tiny in the distance. We heard some bangs, but they weren't very loud, and for us boys, it all seemed to be a big fuss about nothing much in particular.
    I realised later that the target was probably the Maidstone bound Railway line, and, or, the rail junction near Bat & Ball, Sevenoaks, or so I thought at the time. I have subsequently discovered that on one bombing raid, a bomb damaged the Gasometer situated off Cramptons Road, near Bat and Ball. That could, of course have been a different raid.

AIR RAID SHELTER
    Quite early on in the war, possibly after the first bombing raid, there was some debate at home between my parents, whether or not, we should have an Air-Raid Shelter. My father drew up some sketch plans for an underground shelter, with steps starting to go down from inside our small 'glass'(!) conservatory. This was never proceeded with. Nor were we ever made to bite on corks again, or get under the kitchen table.
We didn't have a shelter, all through the war, nor did several of our neighbours. My mother was pretty convinced that we were not going to get hit. She said that, things like that didn't happen to us - only to other people. It was her philosophy that: if a bullet has your name on it, there is nothing you are going to be able to do to stop it.
    However, one of our next-door neighbours bricked up their front porch of their bungalow to create a 'shelter'. Number 31(?). It was removed after the war. Access into the house, was through the leant-to conservatory, and the backdoor which was within it.

GASMASKS
   I went with my mother to a house in a lane coming off the Pilgrim's Way, which was just east of the drive up to the house called the 'Dial'. It was a black and white, sort of mock-Tudor style house, set in what had been a small chalk quarry. There I was 'fitted' for a gas mask. I hated wearing it. Fortunately I never had to in earnest, and I rarely, if ever carried the thing about with me. As far as I can remember, few of us ever did. Though I think we were supposed to. Although people of that time are always pictured doing so.

EVACUATION
    I can't remember if my parents were offered the option, or maybe, I didn't know anything about it, but I'm sure we would have stuck it out at home. As we did.
    The London County Council sent evacuees into Kent. I understand that several were accommodated at St. Clere.

THE BLITZ
    The Blitz of London was part of our experience. We were only 25 miles from London, and must have been on the flight-path for many of the raids. The Blitz took place at night, and I believe it went on for 57 consecutive nights. Even to this day, if a propeller driven aircraft flies overhead at night, it still stirs those childhood memories of night bombing. As it also does to my German born wife; Mechtild: "It sounds like one of yours", we say to each other when we lay in bed at night, listening.
    Some of the German Bombers however, had a very distinctive throbbing sound - a sound never to be forgotten and later, the noise of a Doodlebug was also a sound never to be forgotten). The German Junkers Bombers were fitted with supercharged diesel engines, and it was these engines, which gave rise to their eerie throbbing sound. The Rolls Royce Merlin's sound was music to our ears, and still is!
    We frequently went outside and watched. There were searchlight beams searching the sky, and occasionally we would see aircraft as they were caught in a light beam. Then several beams would concentrate on that one, and the anti-aircraft guns would blast away at it.
    The Ack-Ack guns made a distinctive sound, a sound, which I rather liked. I suppose they were a bit reassuring that something was being done to stop the enemy. And, we often saw red tracer shells going up into the night sky. The nights were so much blacker then, than they are now, because no other lights allowed - The blackout was strictly enforced. We also occasionally heard the whiz of shrapnel - pieces of which, all schoolboys collected. Prized items were shell nose cones. We also collected incendiary-bomb fins, so many that we had two large hessian potato sacks full, which we stored in the garage; that is: until my mother made us get rid of them. Shame!
     Once a searchlight beam latched onto an enemy bomber, other searchlights would join in. This didn't seem very sensible to me, because that plane was already caught, they should be looking around for any others.
    I am convinced that many a bomber crew dropped their bombs before they got to the target, and 'scarperred' back home again to safety. No one would have been any the wiser in the dark. Or, they dropped them to lighten the aircraft to gain height (To get to a 'safer' altitude). Who could blame them? There were many bomb-craters in fields and woods around us, which had obviously way off a proper target.
    We lived in a house; there were bungalows on either side of us. There were no houses at the front, only a large field (the 100 acre), and another smaller field at the back. Old pre-war photographs show very clearly, that there were few trees of any size, and largely open fields surrounding our home then - things have changed an awful lot since. There were bungalows either side of us. So, from upstairs, we had a fairly unrestricted view all around us. During the time of the blitz, each morning when we got up the first thing I remember doing, was to look out of each of the upstairs windows to see who, if anybody, had been 'hit'. Because, many of the bangs in the night had seemed to be so loud, and so close, one could have imagined that the bombs had fallen in our garden. However, only once, after I had looked out of the landing window, did I see, that a house had been badly hit at the top of our road. Fortunately the family was not seriously hurt. The story was; they had been sheltering under their stairs. What little that was left of the house had to be demolished, and it was rebuilt after the war was over. There was a large beech tree, on the opposite side of the road, the Pilgrims Way. It stood in the grounds of Falconers Down). The blast blew several pieces of timber, and a door, high up into this tree, where they were firmly lodged. Some of these bits were still lodged up there, long after the war was over.
    One night, we were outside at the front gate watching the action - or what we could see of it. My mother was talking to a man. It was pitch dark, and so I couldn't actually see him. I only knew he was there, because I could hear them chatting. He was the ARP. (Air Raid Precautions) Warden. We heard the loud screech of a bomb descending, terminating in a very load bang. It interrupted the adults' conversation for a moment, and I remember my mother casually remarked: "That was a near one", and they carried on talking as if nothing had happened!
    One night a lot of incendiary bombs landed on the hill (The Downs) above Kemsing, and the woods were set on fire. As kids we spent a lot of time playing, and wandering, up on the hill, and we were very upset that the enemy had dared to set fire to our woods! The next morning we went up the hill to review the damage. These fires hadn't been that serious, and all of them had gone out by the morning.
This following event, only went to confirm to my mother, that she was right with her theory, that if ones name happened to be on the bomb, and your number was up, then there was nothing you could do to about it, wherever you may be.

DIRECT HIT ON WHAT WAS; ISOLATED LODGE (No. 3)
    The destruction of North Lodge, of St. Clere Estate, Heverham, is included in the section on V1s.

LIVE INCENDIARY BOMB
    One day on one of my wanderingsI found an incendiary bomb in the stream (Childs Brook - or Guzzle Brook - The source of which, is the 'lake' at Lower St. Clere), which flows along the valley as a tributary of the River Darenth. I took the intact incendiary bomb home ~ it was quite a prize! Then, on to my school friend's house (Percy Lodge), which was on the Pilgrim's Way, near Cotman's Ash cross-roads, Heverham. His name was John Hall, and if I remember correctly Peter Hamlyn, who lived in the Landway, was there too. We took the incendiary to John's large shed in the orchard. We tried to open the bomb up, I was scared and kept well back, but they were unsuccessful. So the others decided to drill a hole in it! Although it was only a hand drill, the tip of the drill got hot, and a bright purple flame appeared. The magnesium casing had caught fire! I ran away in panic, like a scalded cat, to warn John's Mother down at the house. She was horrified, and rushed back to the shed, and she made them stop what they were doing. John and Peter weren't very pleased with me. And, of course I was a "scaredy-cat". Looking back now, I reckon it was I who had done the right thing.

PLANE CRASHES
    I saw a few. I was horrified when I saw, what I was pretty sure, was a Spitfire, in an absolutely vertical dive. It had a stream of smoke coming from it. It went down straight into the ground nose first. Somewhere in the direction of Wrotham - it was one of ours! Sadly I didn't see any parachute from it either. There were a few others that we saw go down in the far distance, but too far away to be identifiable.
    I saw an orange coloured an Airspeed Oxford (a trainer?)  (There is one of exactly the same colour on display, suspended from the roof of a hangar at the Imperia-War-Museum, Duxford) go down at the back of Oxen-Hill Road, I went down to have a look and it did not appear to have been badly damaged.
    One day, I was walking on the Downs above Kemsing, near Shore-Hill Farm, with my Father who was home on leave, when a Spitfire flew very low, and quite close above us. I noticed that there was a small stream of smoke coming from the engine. I said to my Father: "It 's going to crash!" He poo-poohed the idea, but we watched it go down into the valley, and my Father followed it with his binoculars. Sure enough it did crash. It made a belly-landing close to the nut wood off Childsbridge lane. The M26 motorway now runs close to where that spot was.

    There was a story going around at the time that a local ARP. Warden had rushed to the scene, and had died of a heart attack. I remember that he normally used to walk around slowly with a bent back and his arms behind him, holding his hands together, from which extended a lead to a little black scottie dog; which dawdled along behind him. He wore a raincoat and a trilby or homburg hat. I certainly never saw him again after that incident. Unfortunately I can't remember his name.

A rough sketch of a Defiant.

Wednesday 7 November 2012



Chapter 2

The BIG AIR BATTLE



We were walking home from school. It was, I suppose, a primary school called 'Russell House School', which was then situated at the bottom of the Chase (then a cul-de-sac), and which subsequently moved to Station Road Otford). We were walking across the field of stubble (the corn had been cut so it may have been late August. If the corn hadn't been harvested, then we would not have been able to walk directly across it), and it was a warm sunny day. There may have been three of us children, and one mother walking together. It was a large field, which extended, unbroken, from the school to Childsbridge Lane, where we lived (it was the "100 acre"). It was not level. We came over the crown of a slight rise in the field, and the lane came into view. Ahead of us was another child's mothe, who was approaching, or coming to meet us. Then we saw (And heard), ahead of us (towards the East), a large formation of aircraft approaching, they were flying low. Suddenly one of the mothers shouted earnestly (I can't remember which one): "They are not ours! They are not ours!" And we were soon able to see the markings, which confirmed that fact to us in no uncertain terms, as they flew low over us.
                                       



"They are not ours! ... They are not ours!"
    Shortly after they had passed over us, a tremendous air battle broke out, there was so much activity that it was impossible really to define what was exactly happening, or who was who. However, a German bomber came round to fly across our field of view, it was on fire. As it came round three parachutes emerged from the aircraft as the crew bailed out, one by one. The last one to appear, seemed to us, to be rather lanky, and I remember someone among the adults commenting, that he was rather tall to be the rear-gunner. Very soon after he had left the aircraft there was a huge orange flash, and the plane exploded. It just disintegrated into small fragments - one moment it was there, the next it had apparently vanished before our very eyes. It was simply blown to pieces.



 It was simply blown to pieces.





the crew parachuting into the school's grounds.
   We watched the parachutes fall slowly, and as they descended, they drifted northwards into the (extensive) grounds of St. Michael's School, which were at the foot of the Downs, situated between Kemsing, and Otford.

Notes:
    Sunday the 18th.of August 1940 was described as the 'Hardest Day' in the book of that name by Alford Price (Macdonald & James, London). On that day 60 Heinkel 111s attacked Biggen Hill airfield, and they were supported by 40 fighters (Messerschmidt 109s), which adds up to a lot of aircraft (and that is not counting our defending fighters). There were a lot, but my sketch doesn't show how many. I was only six years old at the time, and it is a long time ago. I realise that the particular incident I refer to when a bomber exploded, could not have been on a Sunday if I was coming home from school. The timing is probably correct, because we would have finished at lunchtime at the Russel House Primary school. There was another biggish raid, attacking Biggin-Hill, on the Friday the 30th. I would think, almost certainly that, I must have witnessed both raids, and there were other skirmishes going on all the time, though maybe not on such a grand scale. I am only confident that the enemy bombers were He 111s., and that there were a lot of them. I don't think anybody thought about trying to count them! I suppose it may seem a bit strange that with all that flack flying around, we should be outside, and stand, and watch it. It was a spectacle that I shall never forget, so I am glad that I did witness it.
    We must have then finished up standing around in a group on the grass-verge at the front of our house. I suppose we watched the last elements of the battle fizzle out, which probably didn't last very long within our sphere of vision; and we were probably reviewing what we had seen, and wondering what was going to happen about the parachuted German airmen: when a small pick-up vehicle arrived. I think it was a Hillman 8, or 10. (Horse Power), or it could have been an Austin. It had a canvass top at the back, and four soldiers sat in the back.

...and four soldiers sat in the back

    They could well have been Home-guard. I can only remember seeing one of them holding a Lee-Enfield rifle. The vehicle stopped, and they asked if we had seen the parachutes, and if we had seen where had they fallen? Of course we eagerly told them that we had, and where. Off they went, heading up to Childsbridge Lane, and turning in the direction of the School grounds.
Low level attacks on Biggin Hill Airfield took place on the 19th. and 30th. August 1940. The formations were heading in the direction of Biggin Hill, though Fort Halstead was also directly in their path, and that could also have been a potential target.
I have since taken the photographs of a preserved WW2 vehicle, which was on display at Woodchurch Airshow, 2001. They appear on another page.

Just to get some idea of the sheer scale of things, this is a photograph of enemy bombers flying over the Sevenoaks area, though flying higher than my earlier experience when they were much lower.  [picture supplied by Ed Thompson, local historian, and author of several books on local history]

LOST SCHOOL FRIEND?
    When I was at the Preparatory School in Sevenoaks, I arranged to meet a friend at the weekend, he lived in a ragstone cottage at the top of Watery Lane. This lane ran up from Kemsing Station past 'Stone pits'. I cycled there on my single gear, 20" diameter wheeled, Norman bicycle*. When I arrived, all that remained of the cottage was a heap of rubble. It must have received a direct hit. I think this friend's name was 'Golding', we only used surnames at school (Sevenoaks Preparatory), and I didn't know him that well. We had only recently struck up a friendship. I never found out what happened to 'Golding'. The only explanation that anybody offered me at the time was that he had gone away. He certainly didn't show up at school again.
    There were some buildings called Chart Lodge next-door to Golding's cottage (Chart Corner Cottage?), and this housed an army HQ, this could have been the intended target, or it may just have been a random bomb.
   The cottage was later rebuilt, more-or-less exactly as it was.

* Incidently the very elderly widow of the owner of Norman cycles, until recently, still lived in our (Canterbury) road.

DIRECT HIT ON ISOLATED COTTAGE No. 2
    I was walking on the Downs with a friend and heading home via Clarks Bottom (or 'Clark's Green'), which is between Woodlands and Cotman's Ash. It was a hot day and we were thirsty. We went through a white 5-bar-gate to take the track that led through, what we called, the 'Foxglove Wood'.
This was on one of our walking routes, which went from Clark's Bottom (As we knew it), through Beechy Lees Wood/Carpenter's Wood, along to Shore Hill, which would bring us down Chalky lane (Shore Hill) across the Pilgrim's Way, to Childsbridge Lane, and home.
    Just through a white 5-bar-gate from Clarke's Bottom (Clarke's Green), stood an isolated flint, and rag stone, cottage. I knocked on the door to ask for a drink of water. A man with a strong foreign accent came to the door, and he went back and fetched us two mugs of water. Each one was a souvenir mug, which may have been decorated to commemorate the Coronation of George the V1th.?
The 'Royal' mugs had impressed me, and I thought suggested that the man was a genuinely dedicated loyal subject, despite his foreign accent.
    We carried on home, through Beach Lees Wood, and Carpenter's Woo, which led to another white 5-bar-gate, which was on the approach road to "Treacle Towers" (later: 'Hildenborough Hall'/Otford Manor). Then home by going down to Childsbridge Lane via Shore Hill, and part of 'Chalky Lane'. It was quite a long walk for us youngsters, but we did a lot of walking then.
I can't remember how long afterwards, but in real terms it couldn't have been that long, we happened to come past that cottage again - or, rather, what little there was left of it: - for it was just a heap of rubble. However quietly tucked away in the countryside it was, that was no guarantee of its safety. We searched around amongst the rubble, and I had hoped that I might find a fragment of the Coronation Mugs, but I was unsuccessful.
   That such an isolated cottage should have been hit showed that nowhere was entirely safe, and that perhaps my mother was right - if your name happens to be on a particular bullet, or indeed a bomb, then there was nothing you could do to escape it. Which was, or so I am led to believe, by a certain Len Barton (now in his 80s), a point emphasised to pre-war Territorial Army recruits.

LONE RAIDER (Hit and Run Raid?) - 5 DEAD
    It was during the day. I was outside our property standing on the roadside berm (grass verge) when I spotted a lone, slim, German Dornier bomber. It was flying on a line directly above the Pilgrim's Way, from East to West. It was sufficiently close enough for me to see, much to my surprise, the bomb-bay doors open. At that moment it was at this point between the Landway, and Childsbridge Lane. Then, I saw a long cylindrical object leave the plane. It was an aerial-torpedo. This 'torpedo' seemed to take an extraordinary long time, and travel a considerable distance, before it hit the ground. A bit like a missile. I lost sight of it as it went over the rise of my immediate horizon, heading towards Otford. That rise was at about Beechy Lees Road. In the distance a plume of dust, and debris, shot into the air, and then I heard the bang. We certainly soon learnt that sound travels more slowly than light, or sight.
   I went down to Otford, via the Pilgrim's Way, on my bicycle, where I eventually discovered that the torpedo had hit a row of houses in Leonard Avenue, where the Woodman Public House stood on the corner. Several houses were destroyed and others badly damaged. I understood that five people were killed.
Leonard Avenue is about two miles away from where the bomb had been released, but it is less than a quarter of a mile away from Otford Railway Station, which I assume, must have been the intended target. There was no other obvious target that I could think of in the area at that time. Aerial Bombing in those days was not very accurate.



The Dornier releasing the aerial-torpedo.(The Dornier was known as the 'Flying Pencil)


HOUSE FRONT BLOWN AWAY - AT SEAL
    I was in Seal, and saw a house in the upper High Street (above Childsbridge Lane, and the Fawk Common Road junction), the whole front of the house had been blown away. It was probably the same house that was damaged in August 1994 by a run-away lorry

HOUSES DAMAGED IN SEAL HOLLOW ROAD
    One morning, as I was cycling to school, I noticed that some houses were damaged in Seal Hollow Road, near the Bayham Road junction. I would usually cycle up, or get off and walk up, Bayham, or Serpentine Road, to get to my Preparatory School in Vine Court Road.
    Another day, closer to school, as I cycled along the upper, and level, part of Bayham Road; I came to a point where the road descended to the dangerous, and complex, five-way junction with Hollybush Lane. I was running a bit late, and decided to take advantage of the short downhill slope, and 'chance-it', to ride straight across the dangerous blind junction (there was a ragstone wall, which restricted vision) without stopping, and ignore the 'HALT' sign. There wasn't so much traffic about in those days, so the risk was fairly slight. But, before I got there, a large policeman on a bike came swinging round the corner from Hollybush Lane, right into my path, and we collided. There we were, both of us lying spread-eagled in the road. Horror of horrors! I went in fear, and trembling of Policemen, children really respected their authority in those days. Not only had I knocked a policeman off his bike, but his helmet had come off as well! It lay in the road not too far from my bicycle pump, which had become detached through the collision. "It was: down to the 'nick' for me - what would my parents think?! Their son blatantly failing to stop at a Halt-Sign?.
    I watched the policeman slowly pick himself up. He gathered up his helmet, smoothed his thin hair - (don't
policemen look different without their helmet on?). He brushed himself down, straightened his uniform; and then he picked up my pump. The dreaded moment had arrived. He walked over to me: "Hey! sonny, are you alright?" He said in a sympathetic tone. This didn't sound at all like the angry Policeman I had expected! Even more surprising; he helped me up to my feet, and brushed me down saying in a friendly voice: "I'm terribly sorry old son, I cut the corner - it was my fault."!
    His fault? I was dazed. I was amazed: 'His fault?'
    I was a bit shaken and hurt, and I noticed that my bike's front mudguard was bent, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want to delay him. If he had hung about too long he might have changed his mind. So I said that I was OK.
    'His fault' - 'cut the corner'? Well, come to think about it: he had cut the corner! I hadn't quite got to the HALT LINE when he ran into ME! So he wouldn't have realised my 'criminal intent' - Phew! What a let off! He was full of apologies, and kept asking if I was sure that I was all right. He put my pump back in its place on my bike. Now I even had an excuse for being late to school! And, what a tale I had to tell everybody at school. I could say to the teacher, in front of the whole class, that a policeman had crashed into me and knocked me off my bicycle!
    I suppose that I was about 10 to 12 years old at the time.

EMERGENCY SERVICES
Police cars were a very rare sight indeed, especially out in the villages. What Police cars there were, were Wolsely Saloons, and MG. Two-seater sports cars ~ all of them were painted plain black. Except for Mr (Sgt.) Paris's in Otford, he was occasionally seen driving a Ford 8 (8 Horse Power - side valve engine). They did not have a siren nor did they have flashing lights. What they did have, however, was a small chromium bell mounted on the front bumper, which operated electrically. The bell wasn't very loud.
    Civilian ambulances were white, or cream. They had the same bell as Police cars, whilst fire-engines usually had a large brass bell, which had a rope dangling from the clanger, and wich was rung earnestly by hand by one of the crew on board the
engine. It was louder, and subject to the enthusiasm of the crew, could be made to sound quit urgent. The fire vehicles were paineted the usual red.
    There was no 999 emergency telephone system. With most phones you couldn't dial anyway, but had to ask the operator for the emergency services.
    The nearest Doctor's surgery then was in the next village of Otford. As was the Chemist and Pharmacy (next to the Woodman Public House). If the doctor made a house call one of us would have to walk or cycle to Otford, and back, or walk, to collect the prescription.

   My brother and I, and our local pal/neighbour (next door but one) David Bridge would have had Measles (I remember that I had to stay in bed with the curtains drawn), Chicken Pox, and Mumps. In the latter case my face, and neck was very swollen, and the doctor said that it was: "Good Old Fashioned Mumps". Perhaps, some of these afflictions would have meant that I didn't go to school when I was thus affected. I had a scarf tied up round my face. All these complaints are now injected against, and most of today's children escape these illnesses.

SEVENOAKS
    The town was very different then, to what it is now. A high protective wall, which was built up with sandbags, protected the Police station, and Seal Hollow Road had steel barriers staggered across the road roughly at the junction of Seal Hollow Road with Hollybush Lane. There was much less traffic, and few traffic lights. In those days, perhaps not so prevalent in Sevenoaks itself, policemen on 'Point duty', often directed traffic by hand. And, there were no flashing direction-indicators on motor vehicles, though some had a illuminated semaphore arm, which swung out at the turn of a switch (if you were lucky ~ they weren't very reliable), otherwise most people driving would use hand signals. Most cars had a single rear light, and no braking lights; and so it was necessary for drivers to give a slowing down signal, by sticking the right arm fully out of the driver's window, with the hand flat, and waving the arm up and down. The indication for turning left was made by signalling in a circular clockwise movement out of the window, and: turning to the right, was indicated by sticking ones right arm straight out of the window. So, whatever the weather, one had to frequently have the window open.
    Sevenoaks Library was in the Drive (just off the High Street). There was also a small museum in some of the rooms of the same building, and I vaguely remember seeing an unexploded (defused) parachute landmine on display there. Another one fell, and exploded in the St. Johns area. Several were dropped in April 1941. There was some talk of a landmine, or 'parachute-mine', having got entangled round a lamppost in the town and thereby had not been detonated, and it may have been that one, that was on display in the library - I can't be sure.
    Another one fell, and exploded in the St. Johns area, on the North side of Sevenoaks.

    Next door to the library, to the rear of the church, was a hall that housed the 'British Restaurant'. British Resturants were set up in most towns. They provided cheap (9d. = 4.5 pence!), basic meals, and it was where I was supposed to go for my lunch - often I didn't. The food wasn't very good, and what sticks in my mind particularly, was the custard, it was 'inedible'! Children of today thrown into the same situation would be in for a shock, but they would be all the healthier for it (That and the greater exercise). Generally there was little or no choice; one ate what one was given, or we would have to go with out!
There was a lot of military traffic movement in those days, especially up to the period leading up to the preparations for the D-Day invasion. A small army fuel-tanker truck lost control whilst it was going down St. John's Hill, and it crashed right into a shop through the front display plate-glass window. Only the rear end of the vehicle was sticking out of the shop.

   There were other bits of bomb-damage around Sevenoaks town, and some serious incidents too which will be well recorded elsewhere. It wasn't until the V2 entered the fray that really large scale damage occurred, notable in my recollection was at St. Johns, when several houses were destroyed in Wickenden Road, and many more damaged; 9 people died in this attack. Quite a few V2s. dropped all around Sevenoaks.

   Private cars were a rare sight. We did see the occasional car with a gas-bag on the roof, and commercial vehicles towing a trailer with a fuel gas generator on it. A good bus service kept running, and the fare from Kemsing to Sevenoaks, was 3D (3 old pence = 1½p.). We would either use the normal bus service, to get to school, or more generally, cycle.

    I vaguely recollect that Knole Park was closed to the public during the war, possibly because of the large number of military vehicles that were stored in the Park.

YELLOW-NOSED MESSERSCHMITT 109
   We had a large garden (½ an acre). In it were several tall poplar trees, of the tall Lombardy and broader Silver varieties. We (My mother, brother, and I) were in the garden on the back lawn. Suddenly a yellow nosed fighter aircraft came flying extremely low (West to East) indeed, so low, that it almost brushed the top of our Lombardy Poplar tree. I saw the pilot quite plainly. The Messerschmitt 109 wasn't travelling very fast, and we watched it disappear in the distance low over a house called 'Copperfields' towards Kemsing village.
    There appeared to be no other aircraft about at the time, maybe it was sneaking home - who knows?




I saw the pilot quite plainly.

BIG GUN
    One day I saw a train standing on the track of the Maidstone line, between Childsbridge Lane and Otford. I was able to see it from the road. The train (drawn by a steam engine) was an army unit of which the main component was a huge gun. It was distinctive not just because of the large gun, but because it was painted with a camouflaged pattern. I suppose that, in theory it ought to have been less obvious if it was camouflaged! I have since ascertained that it was most probably in transit from Addisham to Oakhampton in Devon, where it would have been re-calibrated. It could have been the 18" (460mm) diameter Howitzer Railway gun, which was managed by the Royal Artillery from Yorkshire - nicknamed the "Boche Buster", or another gun in transit. Apparently this type of gun needed regular re-calibration. I have been given to understand that it was fired from near Dover, and when not in action it was hidden in a nearby Railway tunnel.

MY FIRST WAR WOUNDS!
    I was in the back garden, of a school friend and near neighbour. We were playing about, some fifty feet from the back of the house (a bungalow). Suddenly two aircraft raced towards us, flying very low (from the Kemsing direction - travelling East to West). There was the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire. I ran like a startled rabbit for the back door of the bungalow. The back door was at right angles to the rear wall of the bungalow, and in my extreme haste I hit the back wall just as the last of the two aircraft passed over the house. I was going too fast to turn the 90 degrees to get into the back door, and I had hit the wall with the palm of my hands. The wall had a rough pebbledash finish, and I cut my hands on the sharp fractured flint stones. My hands were very painful as a result.


There was the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire.

    At this same time, a couple of holes had appeared in the roof of our home. My mother who was working in our garden, said that a piece of shrapnel had knocked a chip off the concrete ornamental bird-bath, which was close to where she was gardening at the time. There were people who carried out temporary bomb damage repairs. We soon had some replacement tiles to cover these holes, but they didn't match the colour of the rest of the roof. So they were pretty obvious.
    The attack had happened so quickly that we had no idea who was chasing who, and of course, when two aircraft are racing low towards you, and you can hear guns chattering, you don't hang about in the open!

MORE WAR WOUNDS
    One day, when I was cycling home from Heverham to Kemsing, along the Pilgrim's Way, when I saw a formation of about six fighter aircraft in the sky coming towards me. I watched them as they flew (slightly off to my right) above the crest of the Downs - CRASH! I had gone headfirst down the bank into a hawthorn hedge. I had learnt the hard way: never to watch anything going on in the sky when you are riding a bicycle. I received some nasty cuts, and scratches, about my face and neck. The maxim should be, I suppose: that one should always look where one is going, whatever one is doing, and especially when riding a bicycle.

GRANDSTAND VIEW - AIR-RAID SIRENS
    We boys spent a lot of time on the Downs. Unlike children of today (2004), we had tremendous freedom to roam, which we did, unaccompanied by adults, and often for many miles, either alone, or two or three of us. From the top of the Downs we often had a good view of what was going on; we could see how the Barrage Balloons were deployed, and watch any Doodlebugs, etc.. Sometimes there was more than one V1 in the air at the same time, and they often appeared to fly up the valley. It puzzled us, because it often seemed to us, that as we watched, the Doodlebugs, that they would fly unhindered clean through all the barrage-balloons without hitting any. It was almost as if they were being guided up the valley by radio control, or that they had a pilot. And, they would then seem to bear right at Otford, to continue on up the Darenth valley - heading on for London.

    Often, when we were up on the hill, we would hear the air-raid sirens sounding. They didn't just all go off at once. I can remember on one occasion, having heard a distant siren go off first, one of us saying: "That was probably Ightham, or Wrotham - we should hear Kemsing's siren go off soon." "There it goes!" Then: "That 's Otford, there 's Seal - hey! Seal was a bit slow." And so on.

SCRAP IRON FOR THE WAR EFFORT.
    Much of St. Michael's School's grounds had iron-railings for fencing around its border. This was all removed, as were most other such railings, to provide metal for the war effort. A lot were never replaced. Other collection campaigns were made for aluminium.  There was no car-park on the approach road like there is today, it would not have been necesary
.
KEMSING RECREATION GROUND PLOUGHED UP
     Kemsing was fortunate to have a large, and beautiful, recreation ground, which had been generously donated to the village by Sir Mark Collett. This was all ploughed up. People didn't object too much at the time, because it was all part of the war effort, or so we thought. However it was still being farmed for an awful long time after the war finished. After quite a lot of local pressure had been brought to bear, it was eventually reinstated as a (our) recreation ground.

THE DOWNS - (HILLS OVERLOOKING KEMSING).
    There were a lot of bomb-craters dotted about the woods, and the downland generally. Several doodlebugs fell there. There were also one or two dug-out trenches, on what is now known as Kemsing Down. We rarely met anybody, especially any adults, when we played and wandered about up there. We had tremendous freedom then, which few children now seem to enjoy - and that was during a war!
Whenever we returned from the hills we always brought back firewood with us. We always took only dead wood, and the longer the pieces the better. We then dragged them home to saw them up, with a bow-saw. We made our own saw-trestles to make the job easier. Working with one either side of the saw, it made the work less strenuous, but it was important to get the same rhythm, and quite often we bashed our knuckles against the wood we were cutting. It was teamwork.
Apart from collecting so many incendiary bomb fins, largely on the Downs, (and some in the village) we also came across loads of tin foil ('Ribbon'), which was dropped to confuse enemy radar at round about the time of the invasion of France.
    There were occasions when organised parties of schoolchildren and some parents (mothers, no fathers - they weren't available) went up on the hills to gather rose hips (from the wild Dog-Roses). I think that too, was all part of the war effort. The hips were probably used to make syrup for to be issued to babies. You can of course dry the hips, for making Hip-soup, etc..

FIGHTER LOSES FUEL TANK
    One day, when I was waiting for a bus in the Sevenoaks bus terminal at Bligh's Meadow; I saw a fighter aircraft flying overhead. One of its wing-tanks (the one attached to its port wing), became detached. The tank appeared to split open and fall away from the aircraft. I could see (what looked like) the fuel spilling out. The plane recovered, and headed off, and away, somewhere out of sight. So, obviously I didn't always cycle to school.

RIFLE RANGE
    On the lower part of the Downs, at the base of the old chalk-pit, there was a rifle range. This was largely used by the Home-Guard for practice. A Colonel Hadow was Officer Commanding (O.C.) the Local Home Guard, and there was a Sergeant Ian Pattello from Heverham. When the range wasn't in use, we used to scour the 'Butts' for spent bullets, cartridges, etc. Once I found a badge there.

ITALIAN PRISONERS
    There was an ancient track-way called ' Chalky Lane', that went up over the Downs to Shore Hill Farm. It passed through some beech woods. One day I was in Chalky Lane when I observed some Italian Prisoners cutting down some beech trees, on the St. Michael's side of the lane. There were a few other children in attendance, who came from Dynes Road. The children were collecting chips of beech wood in sacks for firewood. The prisoners proved conclusively to me that they were Italian, because they sang operatic arias as they worked. Even though I didn't understand them.
    I watched them for a while as they were felling a large tree. Suddenly there was urgent shouting - the tree had begun to fall! One of the children, a girl, was in the path of the falling tree. She scampered away, at first dragging the sack behind her, but fortunately she let go, and tumbled down the bank. She escaped by a hair's-breadth, the abandoned sack lay under the branches of the fallen tree. It was a very narrow escape. The Italian P.O.W.s eventually retrieved the sack for her, from under the branches. She had been very lucky.
   These same Italians made clogs out of the beech wood whilst they were working there at the logging site.  They had a fairly relaxed time of it!
    I was travelling with my mother on the train between Eynsford and Shoreham, when we saw from the train, two lorries carrying Italian prisoners in the back. There was the metal framework, but the tarpaulin cover had been rolled back, so we could see them well. They were travelling in the same direction as the train along the A225, which runs parallel to the railway line. I don't know who started first, but we waved heartily to each other, all the time they were in sight. They were the enemy? Or, they had been.
I have a feeling that the above incident was almost immediately after we had received the news that Italy had surrendered, which was in 1943. I cannot now explain how we could identify them as Italians, or maybe we just thought they were.

BARRAGE BALLOONS
    Barrage-balloons arrived in Kemsing after the Doodlebug phase of the war had started, and they would have started to appear among us during July 1944.
[Balloons had been used to protect towns (LONDON in particular) and strategic targets just prior to the outbreak of the war. Many of those were manned by WAAF. Personnel.]

A Barrage-Balloon near Otford.
[picture supplied by Ed Thompson, Otford Historian, and author onf local history].

    There were several near us, 'Ours' was set up in the field in front of our house, known as the: "Hundred Acre". Which, as I have already stated, is all built on now, and covered in houses.
    'Our' balloon base was stationed just across the road from our home, in the field. There was another unit further over in the same field. Each balloon-site was manned by about half-a-dozen men from the R.A.F. Regiment. My Father was serving in the R.A.F. Regiment so I empathised with them. We local kids spent a lot of time at the site, and I expect that it must have been a boring job for the troops. We played knock-about cricket, and football, with them. They were lucky to have a proper leather football. They got a bit too boisterous, and a heavy leather football, kicked by one of the servicemen, hit me very hard on the leg. They made contact with my mother, because of this incident, and she used to cook meals for them, especially chips. I especially remember her chips, which were good!





They were lucky to have a proper leather football
    At school, we used to compare notes about 'our' balloon teams, of whom we were proud. I was a bit miffed however, when John Hall came to school with a tale of how 'His' balloon team had been shooting rabbits with a Sten-gun (or so he said!). Apparently the one rabbit they did manage to hit, was in such a mess, that it was useless for eating. So it was a slight comfort to me, to know that it had all been rather a waste of time - i.e.: they weren' t that smart!. They couldn't have done that where we lived as there were houses about, and we didn't want any stray bullets.
    The two barrage-balloons in our field, were really too close together, and there was some great fun, and games, when their cables got entangled. The crews had great difficulty getting them apart again. When they eventually left our field, and the balloons had been lowered for the last time, we helped get the last of the gas out of 'our' balloon by clambering all over it. It was a bit like a partially inflated bouncy castle.
Once, we did see a balloon that had broken loose, and we watched a Hurricane make a few passes, and we heard the rat-tat-tat of gun-fire as it tried to shoot it down.

    More tales about the balloons will feature under V1.s, the Doodlebug section.


Tuesday 6 November 2012

Chapter 3 MY FATHER JOINS THE R.A.F. at BEXHILL on ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUNS


Chapter 3
MY FATHER JOINS THE R.A.F. at BEXHILL on ANTI-AIRCRAFT GUNS    Eventually, my father was called up, and he joined the R.A.F. Regiment. He did his initial training, which was (he said) almost of a commando role. However he was sent to man an anti-aircraft, heavy (20mm.) machine-gun (Browning or Lewis?), stationed on the Sussex coast. His firm's company-car (a Morris 8, series E, Reg. No. ESM 22) was taken away, and put into store somewhere. We down went to see him by train, and we met when he had some time off duty, at St. Leonards Railway Station, near Hastings.
    I don't remember much about that meeting, but I do remember him saying that they were stationed on hills by the coast, close to Bexhill. It was a boring job waiting for an enemy aircraft to come their way, so they occupied their time cleaning and maintaining the weapon, and for practice they had a go at shooting sea-gulls (whilst they were in flight). He said that they were a difficult target to hit. However, when they were called to fire the gun in action on the only occasion that an enemy plane did come within range, and flew right over them, the gun ceased, and refused to fire. He brought home some spent cartridge cases. My mother polished them up and they fitted exactly into a pair of brass candlestick holders. When she died, my mother bequeathed the candlesticks to her youngest sister, who had always admired them (and still has them!). She had not realised though, that the top parts were machine-gun shell cartridges, until she got them home and examined them more closely.
    My father later came home on embarkation leave, but he took ill with the flu or something like it, and he was transferred to the small Military Hospital at Churchill House, Kippington Road, Sevenoaks. Whilst he was there, Winston Churchill made a tour of the Hospital, and my father was able to speak to him.
Interestingly, the comedian, the late 'Spike' Milligan also started off his career in the heavy artillery in Bexhill at a gun emplacement on Gally Hill.
    Higher authorities decided that my father was too old (as he was over 40) to take part in the more aggressive 'commando' type role, and he finished up at one of the 'jammiest' postings possible. My Mother was fairly frantic with worry, because she didn't know to which war theatre my father was to be sent. It wasn't until we received the first censored mail that we discovered that he was in Nassau, Bahamas, on the other side of the Atlantic . He was there working in the stores of an R.A.F. Base. He described frozen food to us that he had become acquainted with for the first time (we weren't aware of it at all). He also made a tour of the Southern States. Being in uniform gave him a free ticket to lots of things, and he enjoyed great hospitality there. We received some 'food parcels' from him, which contained: 'candies', chocolate, and chewing gum - all pretty new stuff to us. It also made us very popular with other children when we shared this bounty around.
    My father really enjoyed a great life, playing golf, and swimming. He joked that he was wounded on the beaches - he had got sunburnt!
    He played at the same golf club as the Duke of Windsor, and he returned home, among his souvenirs he had brought home a photograph of the Duchess, which carried her signature: "Wallis Windsor".
    To get to the Bahamas, I believe he went out via America first, travelling on one Cunard's luxury passenger liners, and he returned on another. I believe they were the Mauritania, and the Acquitania, but I'm not certain in which order he traveled on them.
    My Father (we never called him 'Dad') was abroad for two years. When he came home, my mother suggested that we (my brother and I) went (walk) to the railway station at Otford to meet him. I remember that my brother, and I, debated as to whether or not we would we could remember what he looked like, and whether or not we would recognise him. However when we did see him; I did, just about recognise him. My brother wasn't so sure at the time. But, it took some time to get used to him again.



My Father


    There was a time when my Father was stationed in Prestwick, in Scotland, and I think that was after he returned from the Bahamas.
    I can't remember what happened after that, how much longer he stayed in the forces, or any details of his demob. The company that he worked before he was called up, not only kept his job open for him, but, I believe they paid a wage to my mother all the time he was away serving in the armed forces. She, or we, as a family, were rather lucky!
    Incidentally we, like everybody else, would not have known where he was going be posted, that was a secret. When we did receive mail, it was always censored, but we did get to find out where he was eventually.

UNEXPLODED BOMB - FLANESWOOD (AND IN WOODS)
    My mother (we never called her 'Mum' or 'Mummy'), in her younger days, and before she was married, had worked (was in service) in the household of a Mrs Webb at 'Flaneswood' a large house standing in many acres of ground, near Stone Street and Seal Chart. In fact my parents were married at St. Lawrence, the local Church (Where they are both now laid to rest). My mother and Mrs Webb had maintained contact, and she and I had walked there from our home in Kemsing one day to visit Mrs Webb for afternoon tea. Mrs Webb told my mother how upset she was, because a young officer had been killed when he was working on an unexploded bomb in the grounds of her estate, and it had exploded.
    I can't be absolutely sure that this was on the same day, but it could have been. As an aside to this story, we had walked up Childsbridge Lane, and as it joined Church Lane, there was a house opposite. I happened to notice what I had thought was a wisp of smoke drifting out of the top of a partially open upstairs casement window. I told my mother what I had seen, but I was over- ruled,she declared that I as was imagining things, and we pressed on regardless. However, on our return through Seal, what should we come across, but the fire-brigade in action, in Church Road, outside the very house where I had seen the smoke issuing from.  Huh, I had been right, there was a fire. I wanted to tell bystanders and the firemen that I had seen the smoke, but my mother grabbed my hand, and hurried me on our way.
    Mrs Webb came to visit us sometimes in her large Rover (I was impressed), and she had a chauffeur called (I think) Mr Thoms. I remember that she had very limited petrol, and so she did not come very often.







MORE UNEXPLODED BOMBS
My mother and I were walking somewhere South of Carter's Hill, possibly at the junction of Mill Lane and Underriver House Road, when we went over a gate into a copse (probably of coppiced Chestnut trees). I think she wanted to pick some wild flowers, anemones or bluebells. We came out onto the road via different five-bar gate. We had to climb over the gate to get out of the wood. There was a notice attached to this particular gate, which could only be read from outside in the road. In large letters on a white board  these words were printed :-
                                                       

                                        

Fortunately they didn't! ... at least, not whilst we were there.



Bomb Disposal teams were recognisable, because they travelled around in vehicles with red mudguards, and they carried the words: "Bomb Disposal" on them. The Military Police (army) also had red areas painted on the vehicles.  On the mudguards etc.
        As I have already stated there were very few motor vehicles about, some were used by essential services such as a Mid-wife (when she wasn't on a bicycle).  
                                       Here is one example: the car of a Mid-wife based in Tenterden.  The interesting thing that stands out for me, are the white tipped mudguards (to show up in the dark of the blackout), and the one masked headlight, and one blinkered headlight.
                                             [this picture was kindly supplied by Brian Mock].

GERMAN P.O.W.s (Prisoners of War).
There were many German P.O.W.s housed in camps around Sevenoaks. One 'prison' camp was at Wrotham Road, Borough Green. (which later became a school). Lots of prisoners used to roam free around Sevenoaks, and I can remember that many of them used to congregate by the tea-bar that was then in the Woolworth Store in the High Street. They used to chat-up the girls who worked there. They wore special uniforms sometimes dyed a sort of purple colour, with usually a different coloured diamond patch on their backs.
Once, in the High Street I plucked up enough courage to sneak up behind some German P.O.W.s by Blighs Hotel, and I shouted: "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" Well of course they did, and they tried to speak to me in German, but that was about all the German I knew, and I ran off. They chased me briefly, but I think in fun. Many of them were sent out each day to work on local farms.

WORKING ON THE FARM - P.O.W.s & LANDGIRLS
     At school I was friendly with a Jim Fife whose parents had a farm of about 450 acres at West Yaldham, between Heverham and Wrotham. I used to cycle there at weekends and every day during the school holidays, travelling through Heverham, and on through St. Clere's Park. For a while, a truck-load of German P.O.W.s arrived every day to help on the farm; there were no guards to look after them. Surrounding farms also had P.O.W.s. We boys got on particularly well with some of the younger ones. We had fun feeding the thrasher with sheaves of corn, and loading the heavier bales of straw onto a wagon. There were so many prisoners, that there were more than enough spare hands for us to have a bit of fun. We played football with anything that resembled a ball, and we had apple fights with (fallen apples), throwing them at each other, and so on. One prisoner I remember well, and with whom I became particularly friendly. His name was Heinz, my mother gave me a packet of cigarettes to give him as a present for his 18th. Birthday. He made me a ship-in-a-bottle. It was in an old 'Camp-coffee' bottle (the only coffee we could get). It had a primitive coastline inside, which he made out of putty. I can remember I used to like the smell of linseed oil, which you got when you unscrewed the top. I very much regret that my mother disposed of it after a while. The prisoners had no tools, and I think he told me that he had used a canteen knife to cut the bits of wood. I was very fond of it.
    One day, Heinz showed me some pictures of his family. I was shocked to see his father in German Army Uniform. To me this was a symbol depicted in films and general propaganda that we had been taught to hate. My friendship with him immediately cooled, but only on my part I'm afraid. Because each of us had only a limited knowledge of each other's language, I was unable to explain, and I didn't want to explain what had caused me to be upset. I have since often regretted my attitude, because he was a nice friendly lad, and I can now speak enough German to explain, and apologise - if I knew where to contact him.
The older prisoners were not so friendly. They must have been very worried about what was going on at home, their family, their future, etc. We heard reports that a few had committed suicide by hanging themselves from the branches of trees on the next farm, of Lower St. Clere (Aitkin's Farm).
    Some of the older German soldiers made traditional German corn wreaths to celebrate the harvest, they were hung up on the beams in the superb, and huge, old thatched barn. They remained there for some time. Mr Fife was a tenant farmer, and he lost his tenancy in favour of Brigadier Norman's son. Tragically, after Mr Fife vacated the farm in the late 1950s, the new tenant demolished that lovely barn. An ugly modern, shiny black, silo storage-tower was put up in its place.
T    hough there were Land-girls on the farm, I don't remember them being there at the same time as the German P.O.W.s. There was one tractor driver called Henry Henry, who lived in the lodge bungalow at the avenue to East (?) Yaldham Manor. During the war there were two tractors on the farm, a small Ford, and a Case. They ran on paraffin. I well remember the distinctive smell from the exhaust. There were five shire horses in the stables. When we were gathering in the harvest they would pull a laden wagon up to the farm with two horses. When we arrived, the front horse was detached, it was my pleasure to ride on the youngest, and my favourite horse: called 'Major', taking him back to the field to help with another load. The empty wagon was then brought back using just the one horse.
One day, when we were cutting corn, and I was then riding beside Henry on the Fordson tractor, a rabbit bolted out in front of us. Henry jumped off the moving tractor, and yelling for all he was worth, to try and petrify the rabbit, and at the same time he threw his cap at it. It was the first, and only time, that I ever saw Henry without his cap on. The terrified rabbit took refuge under the nearest corn sheaf. Henry dived on the sheaf like a rugby player scoring a try, but the rabbit was too quick for him, and scampered away to live another day.
    While all this was going on I was still stranded on board the moving tractor, which was towing the still working, reaper- and-binder. However, Henry quickly sprinted back and clambered on board his tractor to regain control. Two land-girls that were working with us at that time had a good laugh about it.
When the corn was cut, excitement used to build up as the machine worked its way to the middle of the field, and the island of uncut corn got smaller and smaller. As the last bit was cut the remaining rabbits would bolt as their cover was removed. We would surround the area in the anticipation of diving on an escaping rabbit. We didn't catch many that way.
     One day, when another field was being cut, a group of 'gentlemen' turned up with shot- guns. As the eleventh hour approached, they positioned themselves strategically all round the remaining island of corn still to be cut. We did the same, as we were used to doing. When the rabbits bolted, zig-zagging, and darting all over the place, the shooters opened fire in all directions. One, or two, people got peppered with shot-gun pellets - it was highly dangerous! The farmer, Mr Fife, quickly put a stop to that! And there was no more shooting at the final cut after that!
    When the corn was cut with a reaper-and-binder, we gathered the sheaves to make stooks, to stand in the field until they were dry enough for thrashing, or for loading onto a wagon for storing and in a stack. There was a lot of work to do. The sheaves were full of thistles (there were no sprays to kill weeds in those days), and our arms got badly scratched. The farmer's son, and two of the workers sons often helped (Ronnie and Lennie Rye). We also helped with gathering up sheep, and rounding up cattle, and any odd jobs around the farm that we could manage. It was hard work, but I loved it. 

    It was fairly standard practice for local women and children to help on the land, especially during the school holidays. Farming was very labour intensive in those days.
   When all was safely gathered in, Mr. Fife gave me a Ten-Shilling note (currently 50p.)! It was totally unexpected, I had been enjoying myself. Nobody had ever given me such a lot of money before, but he insisted that I take it.
    I believe that one of the farm workers was killed in an accident when he was ploughing. There was a large hollow in the large field on the Down's side of Kemsing Road, and East of the junction with Exedown Road. I believe the tractor overturned on the slope.

    Flax was grown on some of the fields, both at Kemsing, and Heverham, as part of the war effort. When the Flax was reaped, and bundled into sheaves, a large lorry came to collect it. It was stacked too high. As the lorry negotiated the narrow track that ran beside East Yaldham Manor Farm buildings (also farmed by Mr Fife) the truck tipped to one side, against a tree, and it was stuck there. Much of the load had to be carefully unpacked to get the vehicle back on all its wheels again, and then once it was upright, reloaded. This caused a lot of extra work, but we all lent a hand to get it done.

D-DAY APPROACHES
     As the build up to D-Day approached (although personally, I didn't realise that, that was what was going on, at the time), Kent became one big army camp and depot. Vehicles and equipment were tucked away in all sorts of woods and copses. Any road, which was of a reasonable width, was used as a vehicle park. Our lane had been widened at the beginning of the war, and a Bedford army truck was parked outside every house in the road. The soldiers slept in the back of their trucks. It was the same along the West End (towards Kemsing) and Dynes Road. Military traffic was on the move everywhere.

                                                        

Army trucks like this one (a Bedford) were parked in our road outside every house.
May 1944 in Childsbridge Lane.
CYCLING TO SCHOOL
Cycling to school I would go via a path known as the Ash-Platts, and when I emerged at the A25, it could take me a long time to get across the road to get into Seal Hollow Road. Long streams of jeeps, trucks, half-tracks, tanks, despatch-riders, etc. would pass in an uninterrupted flow. There were no traffic-lights there then to hold up the traffic for a moment, and let me get across the road.
                                        

May 1944, army-lorries parked outside ever house in Childsbridge Lane.

    I can remember similar convoys of military vehicles streaming up Dartford Road, by the Vine, into and through Sevenoaks. DUKW.s (Amphibious trucks), Half-track trucks, Bren-Gun-Carriers, Jeeps, trucks, Scout-cars, etc., the build up of equipment for 'D-Day' was enormous.
I remember having difficulty coming out of the Ash-Platts path and getting across the A25 into Seal Hollow Road, because of the endless convoys of military vehicles going by.

    We started to notice that the vehicles now carried large white 5 pointed stars, which were for recognition purposes. Aircraft that flew low enough for us to be able see (as many did) we saw had three thick white bands on each wing, and on the fuselage. All this was a new departure to us.
    In Knole Park there was a huge store of military vehicles stored under the chestnut trees - rows, and rows of them. Most were parked along side the Broad Walk, and the Chest-nut Walk, at the southern end of the park. Some could be seen from the peripheral roads (St. Julian's Road, etc.), which ran around the Park. They were largely maintained by ATS. girls who were housed at a large property called Beechmont, in Gracious Lane. This was hit by a V1. flying bomb, on July the 12th. 1944, and although most of the girls had left for work, 2 were killed, and 44 injured. The vehicles were never used, and remained there until some time after the war, when they were sold off by public auction, where they stood, in the park. At the end of the auction streams of rusty army vehicles were driven away, some on trailers, some being towed, some on the backs of trucks, etc.. After that, many local farmers were to be seen driving around in ex- U.S. Army Jeeps, and such like. Our local builder (Johmnsons?), who was based in Childsbridge Lane, Seal, bought an American truck, which he used for some years.
    We saw American made Bowl-scrapers for the first time, which carved out passing places for these often large vehicles, in and along, our country lanes. I remember there were some lay-bys created by them along the Pilgrim's Way.
    Once there was a convoy of army motorcycle-and-sidecar outfits, fitted with machine guns, waiting along the Pilgrim's Way. We boys talked to them and they said that they were Scotch-Canadians.
Just down the road from us, on the corner of Childsbridge Lane, and Dynes Road, I wandered past boxes of ammunition, and hand-grenades, which were casually stacked on the grass verge. One day, I found a snub-nosed bullet lying in the road - it was a live round. I had it in my pocket for a while, then I thought that I had better show it to a soldier. He took it from me, went and fetched a hammer, then laid the bullet on the kerb - facing into the field, then, much to my surprise, he hit it with the hammer. Of course it went off with a bang, which made me jump. The bullet presumably disappeared safely into the field. I thought it was a waste of a good bullet. <



I found a snub-nosed bullet lying in the road - it was a live round. I had it in my pocket for a while

There was some sort of fete held on Kemsing school playing fields. The army personnel, who were stationed all about us, supported it. Part of the 'Attraction' was a raised boxing ring. It was my first introduction to boxing (I wont call it a sport). We watched a bout for a while, and I got more and more concerned, one soldier was really taking some punishment, and his face was bleeding. I was horrified. I've never watched a 'game' of boxing since.
     I also remember seeing large formations of aircraft flying eastward (towards France), wearing the 'new' white identification stripe livery. On two occasions these included large formations of Dakotas (C47 Douglas) towing gliders. I can't put a date to these sightings. Judging by the direction they were heading they could have been heading for Arnhem (Holland), or they could have been part of the deception plan called 'Glimmer' which had headed for Boulogne as a diversion.

LARGE HOUSES COMANDEERED
    Large houses were likely to be commandeered by the military. Several were in Kemsing including the Box House, Crowdleham, and Beechmont, in Sevenoaks, were some examples. Part of St. Clere was used too, to house evacuees down from London.

BOMBING
   There was bombing that we knew about, and bombing that we just heard about. A lot of bombs fell landed in woods or fields and did no real, or serious, damage. At night the raids sounded a lot worse that they effectively were - that was until the V1.s started. Up until then, the damage inflicted in and around Kemsing, was comparatively light, especially when one considered the number of bombs that had fallen in the area.
This aerial photograph which shows the two railway lines heading north from Sevenoaks; at the centre of -the right-hand-side of this photo is Otford-Junction, with the Maidstone line coming in from the east (right); a solitary  Heinkel bomber can be made out flying low over the junction.  This picture was taken only two days after the hit-and-run  attack on St. Leonards Avenue in Otford. [it was supplied by Ed Thompson]

    Some item of ordnance hit the road between Welstead's Garage and St. Edith's Road, and although the road itself was patched, the damaged kerb was not replaced until about 1992. Which I considered was rather a pity because it was just about the only evidence that still existed that a war had taken place there at all. Many incendiaries also fell on the village. Martins Stores had a shed at the back where they kept emergency rations, and that was hit, and it burnt out. St. Edith's hall had a small fire that had to be put out. And, the kitchen of the Wheatsheaf Public House was set on fire.
On my way to school, I cycled past a downed Heinkel bomber in a paddock off Hollybush Road, just before the 'Hole-in-the Wall'.

    Some bombs fell in a field by Honeypot Lane, near Kemsing Railway Station. I heard tell that some horses were killed. A small cluster of free-standing beech trees were damaged by the bomb(s), and a large branch which had been broken off lay on the ground in the field for years after the war.
A map shows where 500lbs were recorded as having fallen in the Kemsing, Otford, area. 

     Of course the allied forces were bombing too. I remember particularly, aircraft assembling high in the sky on a bright sunny morning for the 'thousand bomber raids' over Germany. The sky was packed with aircraft glinting in the sun, many creating white contrails in an azure sky. There were far too many to even think about trying to count them. It was an impressive and amazing sight, the like of which will never be seen again. The fact that they were glinting in the sun, suggests to me that they were American. Probably Flying Fortresses, which were not camouflaged, AND the Americans tended to make daylight raids with heavy fighter escorts, and the British used aircraft such as Lancasters, which were camouflaged, and which flew at night, without fighter escort.

RETURNING BOMBER
    One late afternoon, or evening, I saw a lone Avro Lancaster (4 engined) bomber struggling home flying low over our homes. At least one engine had stopped (with one propeller stationary), and there were holes in the wings, through which I could see daylight. I watched it carry on in the direction of Biggin Hill. I presumed, and hoped, that it made i back to base. I somehow, in mt mind, I related it to a shabby old black crow. Bomber squadrons were normally based in the East Anglia area.

LONDON
    We did go to London, and we traveled by train (incidentally, train windows were fitted with pull-down black-out curtains - the problem being, that, when you traveled at night, one never knew where you were. You couldn't see out of the windows without letting the blind up, and breaking the 'blackout' restrictions). My mother had a sister who lived in London, which was probably the reason we would have gone there. We did not feel at all safe in London in the earlier stages of the war, we felt a lot safer in the countryside.
I can remember seeing French, and Polish servicemen on the train, and it may well have been when returning from such a trip to London, that we would have seen the Italian POW.s who waved to us (which I referred to previously).
On one trip later to London, during the war, we saw a 'celebrity' Lancaster bomber on display near at a bomb-site the, then famous, Gamages store in High Holborn. We could go inside the bomber, which we did. It was, to me, surprisingly small inside, and the rear gunner's position looked as if it was decidedly cramped. I have a vague recollection of also seeing a British Long-Tom bomb, which was on display on a bombed site, in Oxford Street, on the same day.
    We saw a strange site of London Transport double - decker buses going a bout which were towing trailers on which were gas-generators, which produced their own fuel from coal.  In those days every bus had a conductor on board, who sold tickets, and looked after the passengers.