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Before the Second World War, I lived at Charlton in south-east London (just round the corner from Charlton Athletic Football Club ground). In 1939, aged 10 years of age, I was attending Invictor Road Junior school at Blackheath, about 1½ miles from my home. I used to have to walk to school and back twice each day as I came home for dinner - no bus or car to convey me as today, and no school dinners. I was lucky that I was not still at this school in the following year, as the schoolchildren had been evacuated and the school was occupied by the Fire Service, when it was completed destroyed by a parachute mine dropped by the German Luftwaffe in November 1940, killing many firemen.

1939

In early 1939 we heard the rumblings of war on the continent, and in London preparations were made in case of attack by air. We collected our gas-masks from Charlton library, as there was a fear of poison gas being used as in the 1st World War. Air-raid shelters were going up all over, and an air of resignation was about. At the end of August, as it was still the summer holiday, my parents decided that my mother, my invalid grandfather, brother Richard and I would go to Ticehurst, a small village in east Sussex, for a short visit, staying with Grandma Gillham and Auntie Linda. Grandma had Parkinson’s Disease, a disease of the central nervous system, where her whole body trembled and she was unable to do anything, not even speak. Her daughter, Auntie Linda, fed and looked after her. She could manage to read and was always pleased when I turned over the page for her. Grandfather had had a very nasty accident, falling down stairs, leaving him partially paralysed, so usually at weekends I would help him dress and make his bed. He was a grand old man and we both enjoyed listening to Tommy Handley in ITMA on the radio.

Sunday, 3 September 1939; Grandfather’s birthday and the start of World War II, was heralded by the church bells ringing, and so it was decided that we would remain at Ticehurst. My father remained at Charlton throughout the war, cycling down the 50 miles to see us whenever he could..

When the extended summer holiday were over, Richard and I went to the village school to continue our education. In the south-east of England, where hops were grown, there was no school, so as to let the children go "hop-picking". Similarly up north there used to be a "potato-picking week" holiday. Mother was later to become a teacher at this school, teaching Richard and his year.

1940

At first, as a boy of only ten, I don’t think that England being at war, meant very much to me. For the first nine months of the war it was known as the "Phoney War" and nothing much happened on the home front. Children had been evacuated from London and other big cities, but no expected air attacks materialised, and so most had soon returned home. My special friend was still in London, but I had my younger brother. I well remember my time at the village school, from the number of times I received the cane. For every little misdemeanour, our schoolmaster would use a rather wicked looking bamboo cane to all and sundry to our backside or hand - I cannot remember having that in London.

When the Phoney War was over, after Germany had invaded the Low Countries and France, in May 1940 there was Dunkirk, the low point of the war. Only then did we realise that Britain stood alone against the might of Germany, who it seemed were almost invincible. In Ticehurst and elsewhere preparations were made for an expected invasion. We had a concrete blockhouse just outside our house for a machine-gun post, covering the road into the village. Signposts were removed which could have helped the invaders find their way. Posts and other obstructions planted in fields which may have been used to land planes. Beach defences were erected on the coast. Evacuation of children from the cities was resumed. A ‘blackout’ was enforced, so everything was in darkness at night and windows had strips of brown paper stuck on them to protect people from flying glass (today we would use selotape). With all that, there was rationing; clothes, meat, butter, sugar, and one thing I well remember, only 2 ounces of sweets a month.

A grammar school for boys (Brockley County) from south-east London was evacuated to Ticehurst, and although I did not manage to pass my 11-plus examination, I was later accepted as a pupil. The school took over Oakover, a very large house, and the pupils "farmed " out to local families. At this school I managed to make several friends, and have since wondered whatever happened to them after they left school. I believe there is an ‘Old Brockleans’ reunion.

In August of 1940, Adolf Hitler ordered ‘Operation Sealion’, which was the attack of, at first, our airfields, in order to cripple our Airforce, to prepare the way for invasion. Later this was switched to the attack on London and other cities. This was known as the ‘Blitz’ (from German blitzkrieg meaning lightning war). "Black Saturday", September 7th 1940 saw the first major air raid on London, which continued almost without stop until May 1941. Over 43,000 civilians were killed, and many buildings destroyed, but London’s spirit was never broken. My father worked as a lockman in the Surrey Commercial Docks, working with the tide (twice a day). One night in January 1941, there was an intensive air raid on the London docks, which left the warehouses raging infernos. Dad received commendations from King George and Winston Churchill for his part in successfully getting the ships out of the dock into the river away from the holocaust. When off duty he was in Civil Defence as fire-watcher. Twice our house had all the windows out and the roof blown off.

At Ticehurst we had nothing so frightening. For me it was more excitement, as we could witness the "dog-fights" - our fighter planes attacking the German planes trying to get through to London. There were more crashed planes round us than bombs. As boys we were in a gang and as soon as we saw a plane coming down, we would be on our bikes to be the first at the crash. We collected all sorts of souvenirs, from pieces of perspex, incendiary bombs, and live ammunition. Someone even managed to get a complete machine gun, but the village copper soon confiscated that. When I think back we were extremely lucky not to have had a fatal accident, as we would prize the heads off the cannon shells and with the incendiaries make a lovely bonfire.

1941

The ‘blitz’ ended in 1941 and for a couple of years all was quiet at Ticehurst - of course the war continued overseas. At school you would think it was all lessons, but no, many farm labourers had joined the forces and the farmers needed help. So there was a rush of schoolboys to volunteer for ‘farm work’ in school time as we got paid for this. There was also a shortage of teachers, only the old ones still teaching. One of our teachers was an ex-Royal Navy petty officer who before the war was PT instructor, he tried to teach us English - I just managed to get a scrape a pass when I sat for my Matriculation examination in 1945.

1944

One week in 1944 we started seeing soldiers, mile after mile strung out in single file passing our house, marching south towards the coast, and lorries too. We started giving them things to eat and drink, but of course we didn’t know what was happening. It was the preparation for D. Day, 6th June and the Allied invasion of France. Then one night we heard a most unusual sound which seemed to be close overhead. This was the start of the V1 flying bombs, or ‘doodle-bugs’ as they were called, one of the German secret weapons. We were in the direct line of flight of these things which passed over day and night. They came over low on their way to London, to make it harder to be shot down, but we would often see ‘Spitfires’ fly up alongside them and flip the wing to turn it and send it back, hopefully to come down over the sea. Then came the V2 ballistic rocket, the predecessor of the space rocket, which no one heard until it exploded.

It was decided that the school would have to be evacuated again, this time to South Wales. We said our good-byes and with a small case, a packet of sandwiches, and a name tag, were taken to the railway station and were off to Llanelli. What should have been only a few hours journey, took 36 hours, due to having to be kept waiting, to let more important war material through. Eventually we arrived and were taken to a hall where we were all lined up for the Welsh to select who they would have to stay with them. I and another boy I was with were the last to be selected. I found out later it was because the other boy had a note on his name tag that he was liable to wet his bed at night. We went with a lady who lived on her own in a big house, but who was extremely house-proud. She was not used to children and we were not allowed to touch anything. That did not last long and I was moved to another part of town. Here although it was a terraced house in a poorer part of town, I liked Mrs. Price, a little old lady with her huge 20 year old daughter (6 foot 6 inch and muscular). The daughter worked in the local tin-plate works doing a man’s job, but was always out in the evenings with the American soldiers in town. Here I tasted my first chip, as once a week Mrs. Price would serve us a plateful, done in a frying pan.

Our school this time was in the basement of a chapel, a big change from Oakover. There was no one to teach us French, so we were left on our own for a year to do as we pleased. Homework was done in the local library and any spare time we spent at the snooker hall or cinema if we could afford it. My younger brother was lucky and was taken in by a good family and he did keep in touch for some time afterwards. I found that the Welsh did not want us and we were only accepted under sufferance. After a year in Wales I was glad to be able to come back home to Charlton.

1945

I attended Brockley County School at Brockley for only a few weeks and although I was usually almost bottom of my class for any exam, I did manage to get Credits in Mathematics, Economics, Physics and Art, and as I said, scraped a Pass in English for the School Certificate of the University of London or Matriculation Exam before leaving school. Nothing wonderful but it did get me a job working for the Port of London Authority.

May 4th. 1945 and the surrender of Germany - this I can remember celebrating in Trafalgar Square with many, many thousands more. Another four months and Japan also surrendered on September 2nd, bringing to end the bloodiest conflict in history. I think myself lucky that I went through these years unscathed, while unknown millions lost their lives in this terrible war.