When cycling to school, on the 23rd. of February, 1945, I had reached as far as Ash-Platts bridleway unscathed. I am sure there is such a thing as a premonition. Roughly half way across the Ash-Platts, there is (or was) a sharp little hollow that one had to pass through. The path made a dip down, and then there was a short climb out of it - under an umbrella of beech trees (which were still wearing their light winter coat of a few brown leaves); when I felt a strong sense of unease. A few minutes later, when I emerged out of the wooden kiss-gate, crossed the A25, and had just started up Seal Hollow road, when I heard a colossal bang from behind me. I could see nothing from where I was, so I carried on to school. Later on in the day at school, there was talk that a V2. had fallen near Seal, and that the Number 9 bus from Maidstone had had its windows blown out. I do not know how exactly true that was. However, cycling home after school that afternoon we returned via the Ash-Platts as usual. When we arrived at the half-way point, that of the hollow along the bridleway, we came upon a scene of some devastation. A V2. had made a deep crater, just to one side of where the Ash-Platt's pathway had been. We had to circumnavigate the area through a garden to regain the path. I believe that one man, who had been in the garden,was killed. Whilst the crater was large, surprisingly, the surrounding area was not as badly affected as we were becoming used to expect from a flying-bomb.
DUMMY AIRFIELD
We were cycling along the A225 from Otford to Shoreham, when I spotted some aircraft haphazardly parked in a field (roughly where the cricket field later was sited). It seemed to my young mind a strange place to have an airfield. There were tall trees all around, and the ground sloped a lot. We soon twigged on that the planes were dummies. This was supposed to be a dummy airfield to confuse enemy bombers - we weren't so easily fooled, nor apparently were German bombers.
GERMAN AIRCREW'S GRAVES
Some German aircrew were buried in Seal Church's graveyard. The graves were marked with crosses, which bore their names. The bodies may have been transferred elsewhere after the war, because I don't think they are there now.
Note from Len Barton (of Wingham): Many of these graves of German casualties, as have been located; have been re-buried with full military honours in the German Cemetery at Cannock Chase. The ground(s) are now officially recognised as German soil.
"Germany Calling. Germany Calling"! I remember we were opening our Christmas presents when someone in the family tuned into 'Lord Haw Haw' on our radio. He was saying what a bad time we were having, and spoke about all the things that we couldn't get, when my Auntie Peggy opened her parcel, which contained a pair of 'silk stockings'; she jumped up, danced about, and waved them about triumphantly; defiant at the voice coming from the radio. We all laughed, deriding 'Lord Haw Haw'.
[Note from Len Barton: Joyce - who was arrested after the war, was tried, found guilty and hanged as a traitor in the Tower of London].
THE BBC. And Radio Entertainment
There was no Television. We had a Murphy-Richards valve radio. This was large with a wooden case. As far as I can remember there was only one radio station, and that was the good old BBC. The news bulletins were very important to us, and we were very familiar with many of the war correspondence, including Richard Dimbelby, and John Snag.
We always listened Churchill's speeches. I think he did inspire the nation at that time. Just when such inspiration was desperately needed.
The BBC's children's programme (Children's Hour) was at 5. pm. Introduced usually by Uncle Mac. I remember 'Toy-Town' and Larry the Lamb. The latter was a bit juvenile, but we still used to listen to it.
There were many comedy programmes such as ITMA. ('It's That Man Again). Variety programmes, and some excellent, and exciting serialised dramas; such as: The 39 Steps by John Buchan, and Paul Temple by Francis Durbridge, and the 'Man-in-Black' with that eerie spooky voiced actor: Valentine Dyal.
Also famous were singers: Vera Lynn (we'll meet again…) the 'Forces Sweetheart', Gracie Fields, and a host of other entertainers. Good comedians and comedy programmes. We certainly didn't go short of humour on the radio. Most performers used to go off and entertain the troops.
Desert Island Discs (Roy Plumley?), and the "Forces Favourites", which was introduced by Cliff Mitchelmore and Jean Metcalf. There was a weekly variety programme called "In Town Tonight".
INCIDENTALS
There was a large army training camp above Wrotham in Trosley Park. My Father's cousin, Louis Bannister, was stationed there for his officer-training course. He 'marched' from there the 5 miles to our house in his very smart lieutenant's uniform, with Sam-Brown belt and everything - I was most impressed. Then after he had a meal with us, he had to march all the way back to his camp.
Later, my uncle visited us with his 'new' fiancé. They arrived at Otford Railway Station. My mother walked all the way to the station to meet them, which was a distance of about 1½ miles, pushing an old pram. The purpose of that, pram was to be able to carry the couple's luggage, which included a suitcase, on the walk back to our house. There was no taxi service then.
I believe that the first Taxi in the area, and certainly in Kemsing, did not materialise until the early 1950s, when a Mr Chapman, who lived in Dynes Road started running one, a large black (Virtually all cars that there were then were black) Austin 16 saloon. Not many, if any families would have owned a car in Dynes Road at that time.
John Hilder - Myself - Derek - David Bridge
Standing outside Knole House main doorway
My brother is wearing a lumber jacket that my mother made out of a blanket. I had a similar one. David Bridge was our next-door neighbour, but one, and we were about the same age. He went to St. Michael's School. A sign of those times, sadly, was that his father died of TB. His next-door neighbour was Rex Duval. His father (Mr Duval) also died of TB. at around about the same time.
John Hilder's father had the butcher's shop in Plumstead (South east London) that took our rooks to sell, and many of our rabbits. My cat 'Monty' was named after General/Field Marshal Montgomery (Ironically, many years later my sons had a pet rabbit each, one of which they named Rommel).
One of the pupils at the Preparatory School contracted Polio (David Brown). When this was discovered, the whole school was shut down, and we were all sent home immediately. Which, for us, was great for we had an extra long summer holiday. The Polio Virus has almost been wiped out since then. Fortunately that boy made a good recovery, and he is fit and well today (2004).
We cut up strips of newspaper to make paper-chains, making the glue out of flour and water. Sometimes we were able to get the coloured strips of paper. My mother made what she called a 'Mistletoe" out of newspaper and a wooden hoop (gained form redundant, or damaged butter barrels), to hang on the front door. If we were sometimes lucky we managed to get hold of plain coloured crepe paper. We didn't have a Christmas tree. We would cut a few branches of a yew tree and bundle them together to make the best Christmas tree we could out of it. The decorations for it, and around the house had to be mostly home made. Such as walnuts, and fir cones. Nobody had any Christmas lights!
THE END OF THE WAR
Whilst the general feeling was that people were pleased and relieved that the war was over, I had hardly known anything else in my life, other than a wartime environment. Most of my war experiences at that age, had been of excitement, tinged with fear from time to time, and if it hadn't been for the V2. Rockets I would have been quite happy for the war to have continued. I thought: "Oh dear", the end of the war would mean that there would be: no more: soldiers, military vehicles, or aircraft dogfights. Had we been on the losing side, and had I been older, then my feelings would, no doubt, have been rather different. Now, with hindsight and greater experience of life, I am very glad that I wasn't a parent, or an adult, during that time.
I remember hearing the sound of church bells being rung, which was a first time for me. However, on VE. Day we went up the hill, and carved the date, and the words: "VE Day" into the bark of a large beech tree, just off Chalky Lane, to mark the date. I remember that the bark was very hard. A Mr Webber, an elderly gentleman (a retired mariner) who lived in a bungalow two doors down the road. I vaguely remember that his son was in the Navy, and that they named a grandson 'Rodney' after his father's gallant ship: HMS Rodney. Any way, it was Mr Webber who gave me his ex-naval services jack-knife (of which I was very proud), which we used to carve the tree (it was a beech, and the bark was very hard).
AFTERMATH
Kemsing Railway station was always well kept, with flowerbeds and roses, etc.. What went unnoticed by most rail travellers was, that whilst they might have observed, and appreciated the hanging flower baskets, that at least one of them was made from a WW2. British Army helmet. It was still there in the 1960s.We quite often used to cycle down via Noah's Ark along Honeypot Lane to Kemsing Station. Although it was in an isolated position, quite a lot of goods were delivered to that station by rail, and stored in the goods-shed. We used to go there to watch the goods wagons, and coal trucks being shunted (by a steam Loco). There were sidings, and quite a sizeable coal depot there, in those days. We also stopped off to lay a penny or two on the rails at the farm level-crossing part way along Honeypot Lane, then retrieve the flattened results on our way back.
The following tale was related to us (Or the gist of it was): in the 1960s, by a certain Mrs Ashdown, of No. 4 Whatcot Cottages. The cottages, which were situated on the A25, in Platt (St. Mary's Platt, near Wrotham).
A German bomber crashed between Borough Green, and St. Mary's Platt (Near Wrotham, Kent). The local policeman became involved as members of the crew were killed or died. It just so happened that the policeman's wife, Mrs Ashdown was born in Germany, and hailed from Bavaria. She was drawn into the affair, because she was German speaking, and became involved in examining the crew's documents that had been recovered from the crashed plane. Upon examining their papers, she discovered that, by a very remarkable coincidence, she had in fact, at one time, lived in the same building/ block of flats, in Germany, as one of the members of that crew! I.e.: She knew him. She took it upon herself to write to the relatives of one of the deceased, a letter of explanation of the circumstances, and to offer her condolences. I believe this was sent through the auspices of the Red Cross.
Apparently, Mrs Ashdown eventually received a reply. To her astonishment, it seemed that their main concern of the deceased's relatives was that 'Hans'* had owned an expensive pair of Zeiss binoculars, and they thought that he would have been carrying them on his person during the raid. The important question they were asking was: "What had happened to his binoculars?"
*The name 'Hans' is concocted.
CHILDSBRIDGE LANE (Kemsing).
Our house was built in 1930, and it was one of the first houses to be built in Childsbridge Lane. On either side of the lane, and of Dynes Road (then a just a dirt track), there were just open fields. The Lane was widened in (about) 1939. The original (sunken) lane was an ancient sunken lane that ran under where the footpath, on the Kemsing side, now is, i.e.: between the telegraph poles. To get into the '100 acre' field we had to climb up the bank and get through the hedge. That lane was filled in, and the present footway was built on top of the old lane. I can remember all this work being done. As a result of the road level being raised, part of the drive into our house had to be filled in, and raised to meet up with it, and it was then resurfaced.
We didn't have such luxuries as: a dish-washer, fridge, deep-freeze, microwave, spin-dryer, electric-iron, but we did have a 'COPPER' and a mangle. The 'Copper' was out in our small lean-to greenhouse (Conservatory) at the back door. Our washing was done in the Copper. The 'Copper' was a large inverted bell shaped tub, which sat in a cast-iron casing. There was a space between the tub and the outer casing, which allowed heat and smoke to circulate; for, underneath the tub was a little fire box. A fire was lit to heat up water in the tub. It took quite a long time to heat any volume of water. Coal was rationed, and in short supply. This was another reason why we boys always brought wood down from the hills, even in Summer time. The smoke went out from the back of the copper unit via a metal pipe, or chimney, through a hole the green-house wall and up the side of the greenhouse wall and out to atmosphere.
I can't remember what my mother used for washing 'powder', but I do remember large blocks of 'Sunlight-soap'. There was a wooden lid to the copper, and we had a wooden pole to stir, and pummel the washing. Of course there was no nylon then, only wool and cotton, nothing was drip-dry. So we had a wringer to squeeze the water out, and a 'Flat-iron, which was nothing like as good as a spin-dryer of course. The iron was heated by the open fire, and we made toast that way too, using a toasting fork. So we didn't have toast that often, especially in the Summer.
We had didn't have any Cereals, except the occasional 'Porridge' (milk was Rationed, don't forget). We sometimes had lard or 'dripping' to put on our bread. We could make our own jam, (providing we could get the sugar) and we used to 'bottle' (Preserve) fruit. All that fruit would be locally grown (especially plums), or collected from hedgerows, such as blackberries, and damsons. Preserving, other than as a jam, was done in Kilner jars. These jars had a rubber seal, which was only supposed to be used once, and then thrown away, but since these seals (being made of rubber) were very difficult to obtain, they were reused. However there was some risk in this, in that the seal could fail. A failed jar seal could mean that the contents would quietly start to ferment tucked away out of sight in a cupboard. That is, until the pressure built up and it exploded. The resultant mess was dreadful, and a major cleaning up operation was then necessary. We so once had a bottle of homemade Ginger-beer which exploded! What a mess that made Carrots and potatoes were grown in our garden, and we stored what we had spare, by immersing them in sand, in second-hand plywood 'Tea Chests', which was kept in our garage. People also made 'clamps' to store potatoes in, or try to. It wasn't always very successful. There was no exotic fruit like Bananas, oranges, dates, etc. All was locally grown and in season. But we gathered hazel nuts, and chestnuts, which we roasted on the open fire. We grew tomatoes too, but usually finished up with green (unripe) ones, with which we made chutney.
Occasionally, we might find some largish field mushrooms. If they were partially nibbled, especially those found in a sheep field, we felt that this was a sign that they were save for us to eat too.
All this was largely a very much a combined mother and child activity, as our father was rarely at home, and abroad for at least two years of the war anyway.
My much older aunt who was one of eleven children said that all she ever got for Christmas was, an apple, and orange, and a new penny (old money). I am not sure that she was right about the 'orange', because I didn't see an orange until after the war.
Meats were in short supply. So one can see how important to us the rabbits we caught were. A lot of people kept chickens, for their eggs and meat, even my Aunt and Uncle did in their very small garden in London. Dairy produce was rationed. Eggs were sometimes pickled for storage, but this wasn't very successful.
We ate 'Bubble-and-Squeak' (mashed potatoes and cabbage, all mixed up together), and enjoyed it.
In our house, there was no central-heating, no double-glazing, and poor insulation. My father had lined the loft with plywood panels produced by breaking down old tea chests. We had electric blankets. 'Rubber' hot-water-bottles were scarce; we had a (one only) horrible hard stone one, which you had to be careful not to knock your ankle against when tossing and turning in bed.
We couldn't be fussy over our food. We ate what we were given. We didn't think that life was particularly hard, we didn't know any other, but I cam imagine the modern children would find it very hard today if they were suddenly introduced to this way of living.
At the time of writing, John Hilder still lives in Kemsing, in Dipper's Close.
My wife and I were married in St. Mary's Kemsing Church in September, 1959, and our first home was in St. Mary's Platt. My wife is German by birth, and her, and her families war time experiences were far more traumatic than ours had been.
Heverham (this is, I believe, the correct spelling) was a proper farming hamlet in those days; with the smell of farm animals, and straw blowing, and lying about the place. Almost everybody that lived there worked on the land in one way or was associated with it in one way or another. It had a forge. On occasions I visited the forge and watched horse being shod. It had a quite differenthomely atmosphere then, to what it has now.
What struck me most when I returned to Kemsing recently, was the extraordinary number of cars cluttering up the village. Cars were few and far between in my school days, especially out in the villages, yet people seemed to manage very well without them. If you went down to the village, I doubt if we ever saw a car all the time we were there.
AFTERTHOUGHTS
MULTIPLE PILE-UP.
I can't put a date to this incident, it may have been after the war. At this time it was long before the M20 motorway had been built, and there was a simple crossroad junction. The A227 passed through Wrotham village as the High Street, and it continued straight up the hill over the Downs as the Gravesend Road. This was a renowned accident Black-Spot. A convoy of (I believe) fourteen army trucks was descending Wrotham Hill on the A20, when, just as the leading vehicle came up to the traffic-lights, they changed to red, and it stopped. Fourteen army vehicles ran into the back of each other. I vaguely remember that a picture of the incident appeared in the Kent Messenger.
UNDERGROUND CHAMBERS.
We would sometimes go into the woods that lie between Chalky Lane and Row Dow, above St. Michael's School. Once we went with my Mother to collect blackberries. We were aware that, technically, it was a private wood (there was a sign to say so), but we still went in there to collect firewood or chestnuts in the autumn. However, this time we were 'caught', by a man who was wearing a trilby hat. He gave my mother a telling-off for trespassing. We weren't doing any harm, and I can remember my mother telling to him that he was a 'little Hitler'. The ultimate insult! He didn't like that at all! I was quite shocked that my mother could say such a terrible thing. But, I thought that the horrible man deserved it. But, 'Hitler', now that was pretty strong stuff!
Us boys, on our own, found our way through the chestnut woods to Rowdow Hill. There was an overgrown track that led to a gate into the road at Rowdow. Near this gate we found some manholes in the wood. We lifted these manholes to expose some huge, and deep, underground chambers built with concrete. There were vertical iron rung ladders, and we climbed down into these chambers. They were deep and huge. The only light came from the tiny rectangular manhole openings above. It was cold damp and rather scary. There was little or nothing to see having climbed all the way down there. We didn't know what they were used for at the time, but they could have been an empty reservoir. They were our secret, but of course some adults must have known about them. However upon reflection now, it was a dangerous thing for us boys to do, totally unsupervised, in an isolated spot, miles from home.
ARNHEM.
I can just remember large numbers of aircraft flying overhead (due east wards) during the day, and that several of them were towing gliders. I remember thinking, at the time, that gliders weren't much good, 'you can't fight with gliders'! Could it have been part of the Arnhem offensive I wonder?
I have traveled quite frequently to Germany for many years now, often by car. However, now, when I pass, or go through places like: Arnhem, Essen, Dusseldorf, Hamm (Famous for its huge railway marshalling yards), or cross the Rhine Bridge, all these names remind me of places, which are so familiar to me, because they featured as front line news on the BBC.'s News bulletins during the war. Particularly as bombing targets. I have also been to Dresden in 1998 and seen the see of tower cranes, which were part of the huge rebuilding programme. Dresden was a beautiful city, which was devastated by allied bombing during the war. When we were there not long after the reunification the cathedral was just a heap of rubble. Only this Year (2004) the main structure has been rebuilt, financed by donations from all over the World. The copular was made in England, and the cross, were donated by the people of Britain.
E.W.S. (Emergency Water Supply)
In most built up areas, often on bomb-sites, large tanks were constructed, which were designed to contain water. Mostly for fire fighting purposes. These often her identified with large signs: "E.W.S.",
ADVERTISING POSTERS.
There were a few about, hardly any commercial ones, but I think they would have been displayed mainly in large towns and cities. I remember "Dig For Victory", and the "Squander-Bug". You can't imagine that in this day and age! When Squandering goes on everywhere now!
Some signs of the war still remain, such as this 'Pill-Box', which is situated on the Royal Hythe Military Canal bank at St. Rumwolds Church, on the edge of Romney Marsh. There are several about, including one in the village of Pluckley. I have photographs of several of them. There are a lot of concrete Tank Traps still; about, one example is near Howletts Zoo at Lympne.
Some signs of the war still remain ...
WW2 Bomb Craters
TROLLIES.
We used to construct trollies out of salvaged materials. Floorboards could be gleaned from bombed out premises, and oddments of timber. Things like nails we recycled from where we could get them, and straighten them out. Obtaining wheels was a problem. It wasn't even easy to get lubricating oiI. I know we got some from pram, or two, that we found in an tip/old rubbish pit that was in the corner of a filed south of Gore Hill Farm. A bent nail had to make do for a split -pin.
We used to have races down Childsbridge Lane, which was quite wide and straight. The larger, older boys used to invariably win, because they were heavier. Now, you can't imagine anyone doing that today, because shear volume of traffic just wouldn't allow it: - it would be far too dangerous. In the winter snow, we had our home built sledges. If we were lucky we got hold of metal runners form the base of a Morrison shelter, or wherever. That was O.K., until some rotten so-and-so would spoil things by putting down ashes from fires to provide a grip for the odd vehicle, or horse and cart, that did happen to come along.
There were virtually no fathers around to help us make these things, because they were away in the war, or on some war duty. So it was a case of : "D.I.O." (Do it ourselves!).
SECRET SIGNALS.
If we were up on the hills, and we were looking for a friend, then we would make our call of a Pewit. That would let them know that we were approaching, and they could confirm where they were from the direction of the sound. Also if you heard anybody moving about in the woods, you could check who they were, without actually seeing them.
UNEXPLODED BOMBS
There is 'nice' one on display in Chatham's town centre.
DIRECTION FINDING
As you will by now know; road/direction-signs were all removed. There were a lot more individual pubs about then than there are now. They had a variety of names, so people could navigate, and give directions using public-houses for identification.
For example :~
"Turn left at the cross roads, then go straight on from there. You will come to the Wheatsheaf, and the Bell. Keep straight through the village until you reach the Fox and Hounds Fork left, and then keep straight on up the hill until you reach the Rising Sun, at the next cross after the Rising Sun, turn right, and so on……………
Notes:-
HMS. Kelly:
More very interesting, and exciting, information about the Kelly can be obtained from the web-site:- www.hebburn.org..uk/pages/kelly.htm
Sevenoaks Prep. School has been relocated at Godden Green (TN15-0JU) since 1968.
Ref:< www.sevenoaksprep.sch.uk > and staff@sevenoaksprep.kent.sch.uk/alumini (School Magazine?) and headmaster@sevenoaksprep.sch.uk St Michael's School's e-mail address is : ~< office@stmichaels.kent.sch.uk > There is a publication called "The Pitkin Guide, and their : ~ 'Britain in the Blitz' this carries pictures of the Morrison Shelter, and an Anderson type. The publication also has an item about ladies painting their legs (no ladders in those 'stockings'), and it has an illustration of a Ration Book, together with a list of how a weekly ration was made up during 1941. Ref.: www.britguides.com
Acknowledgements
Len Barton (Wingham), for a his part in doing a bit of proof-reading of the first edtion, and providing some information, and advice. He served an Officer in the Home Guard (East London "Z" AA. Rocket Battery). He was also a POW prison guard, and who maintained friendly contact with several 'his' German prisoners.
Keith Chrystal (New Romney), for letting me read his interesting WW2 memoirs, and for providing me with information about the Big Bertha, the huge Rail-born Gun.
Mike Ellison for confirming some of the information about Hebburn-upon-Tyne, near Newcastle:- e-mail: hebburn@blueyounder.co.uk Q.E.D. (as at 20th. April 2001), and subsequent revisions.
Ed Thompson, Otford's Local Historian; for supplying pictures.
Brian Mock for Tenterden the picture of the Mid-wife's Austin 7.
Dr. Imola Mavity (Linguist and art historian) for help in establishing this blog.
Steve Nueman as IT consultant.
No comments:
Post a Comment