Memories of the last year of the war

The arrival of the first V2s in September 1944 gave my mother great concern for my brother and I. It was the beginning of the new school year so we still had to attend but because of the danger and despite the coming winter she decided my brother and I would travel nightly to my cousin Yvonne's home at 820 High Road, Edmonton, she having returned from evacuation in Farnborough at about the same time as we returned from Reading a year or so earlier. Having us a little further away from central London made my mother feel less worried about us while she stayed at home. 

Every evening at dusk, throughout the autumn and winter months of 1944/45, we caught the bus to White Hart Lane and slept in the Anderson shelter in my aunt's large back garden and returned home the following morning. Apart from the disruption, once the novelty had worn off, I came to hate these journeys because I suffered terribly from travel sickness.

The Anderson shelter at Yvonne’s had never been used before and was not only dark and damp but was full of cobwebs, worms, ants, beetles and earwigs. Narrow upper and lower bunks had been built along either side and duckboards lining the floor and these were essential because the floor was below ground level and  the interior was usually flooded for a couple of inches. Lighting was by candle and torch.

An additional discomfort was that during the night the shelter walls became wet with condensation and the bedding, despite  being aired throughout the day, soon became damp when they touched the shelter wall.

I hated it in there and pulled the blankets tightly around me and over my head because I imagined a silent army of insects such as earwigs invading my bedding and crawling into my ears while I was asleep. I still pull up my bed covers to cover my ears!

Over 500 V2s landed on LOndon with a few exploding around Tottenham and Edmonton but even more landed in Hackney and elsewhere in London, as well a near where we lived, and these could be heard exploding at regular intervals throughout the night. Even though they were not close they still woke us and we were soon suffering from lack of sleep, being woken every time one exploded.The worst months locally were January and February 1945 when 5 V2s exploded in our vicinity in the January and 9 in the February but by March 1945 these frightful weapons stopped coming over and we were able to sleep at home again.

In celebration of VE Day a street party was arranged in our street. Flags from the 1938 coronation were hauled out and hung across the road from upper windows and lamp-posts, and bunting was strung all along the road.

On the day, as if by magic, neighbours appeared and a variety of tables and chairs appeared along the centre of the street which were quickly dressed with table cloths for a children’s tea party. 

Someone brought out an upright piano and started to play, another set an old fashioned trumpet gramophone and dance records on a table and played 'We're gonna get lit up when the lights come on in London', although it would take a while for this to happen.

Soon plates of sandwiches, cakes, tarts, trifles, jellies and tinned fruit appeared on t.he tables which, considering the rationing and the shortages, was quite remarkable. Truly a feast for the children.

Once tea was over the tables were cleared away and a couple started dancing and by eight the men had made a collection and a few crates of beer appeared, and as quickly disappeared, and were then renewed several times and everyone became jolly and joinied in. 

The festivities continued until late in the evening by which time the adults were extremely merry but by 11.30 the children were tired and their mothers started ushering them home leaving the men to finish the beer and clear up the debris, and shortly everyone drifted homeward bound.

In my bed in the front room which overlooked the road, I listened as the voices of the last party goers faded and became faint murmurings. The last of their footsteps echoed along the street, front doors slammed shut and the world all about was silent.

It was hard to believe there would be no more ack ack guns banging away in the far distance. No wailing air raid sirens. No bombers droning their way to their targets and no bombs or rockets exploding without warning. No fire and ambulance with shrieking bells  rushing to put out fires or tend the injured. No more disturbed nights or damp shelters. No brown paper strips across windows or hessian sacks of sand piled round lamp -posts in case of incendiaries.

Next morning, apart from the flags and bunting, relationships between neighbours returned more or less to normal with everyone just nodding to each other as they passed. Perhaps we were a little friendlier and had hope for the future but  things never really returned to the way they had been that day. 

Peacetime would take some getting used to. 

Seated on the Sphinx by Cleopatra's |Needle, London in 1946