High Explosive Bomb at Greville Place

Extraordinary Schooling in WW2 - Part One
by Ernie-the-Author

Introduction

This account is chiefly about my wartime school experiences.
Despite its name, St. Mary's School was an independent (private) non-denominational co-educational school. To many of us former pupils, however, it was more than this - it was a remarkable and unique learning experience —albeit not particularly academic.

St. Mary's school had Froebel leanings with group and experiential learning practices. To what extent the school was "progressive" is debatable - as, for instance, we still addressed our teachers formally (viz: Mrs E., Miss Gardener, Mrs Paul). The school seemed heavily biased to the learning of languages and the arts from an early age, sacrificing time devoted to the sciences and technology.

The school was owned and run by Elizabeth Paul, assisted for most of this time by her husband Heinz Paul. They were of German Jewish origin and had previously run a school in Berlin. They bought the school as a going concern in 1937 when it was still at 1, Belsize Avenue, Hampstead (where I believe the original school was founded a few years earlier - in what form I know not). The Pauls relocated and restarted the school in a pair of adjoining "semi-detached" houses at 16 Wedderburn Road (between Fitzjohn's Avenue and Belsize Park) in Hampstead, London N.W.3. during the summer of 1937, initially as a day school.

With the outbreak of world war two in September 1939 St Mary’s became a boarding school on evacuating London. (Shortly after the war ended in 1945, the school split and was renamed St. Mary’s Town & Country School. The main part returned to within half a mile of its pre-war location - to 38-40 Eton Avenue (into another pair of leased semi-detached houses) just off Swiss Cottage - where it remained until its demise in 1982. The "country" boarding section moved to Stanford Park in Leicestershire - but this only lasted for a few years.)

Preamble

Formal education started for me at St. Mary's School in 1937, about a couple of months before my fifth birthday. As Mrs Paul’s purchase and rebirth of the school was that year, I must have been among its first pupils. I remained there for my entire primary education, or what Mrs Paul later termed the "Junior School." At the end of world war two in 1945 I transferred to The Beltane School - now also defunct.

On my first morning, I recall being told on arrival to play in the sand pit, which was located in a large ground floor bay window. Unfortunately, the school cat(s) had been there before me! Nothing else of note comes to mind from my first couple of happy years at school, except that I was much more enthusiastic about graphic art and finding out how things and nature work, than about the three "R’s".

Another memory was my appendicectomy, at The London Clinic, when I was almost six. A huge get-well card arrived at my bedside from all 15-18 of my school class mates. Five days after surgery I was allowed up from my hospital bed for the first time. This was to see, from my hospital room window, the 1938 Guy Fawkes fire works across London - the last before the war put an end to these more festive rocket missiles and explosions.

We had a rather late summer holiday in 1939, in Llanmadoc on the Gower peninsula in South Wales. This was a farmhouse holiday, with the five of us, plus my baby brother Peter's nanny - Evelyn, alias "nurseydear" - and our closest friends, the Flemings (originally Fleischmann): Oscar, Nina and their then teenage son Cecil. I remember that there seemed to be endless expanses of sand and dunes, which were about ten minutes walk through bracken and sheep cropped grass from the working farm. It was there, on the third of September, that we learnt that, because of Hitler's invasion of Poland, Britain declared war on Germany.

My father had to hurry back to London. St. Mary's School was about to evacuate to the south west coast - so it was arranged that Oscar would drive my sister Marian and me direct from Wales to the school's new Devonshire location. I recall that we had to bed and breakfast en route and the first time that I had a cooked English breakfast: egg and bacon. Oscar was far more Jewish than we were, yet he enjoyed his bacon too! Marian, aged five and I, not yet seven, were suddenly about to become boarders. Along with about twenty other children of various ages, we were expected to be relatively safe in rural England.

Marian and I had no idea then, of course, how heart-wrenched and devastated mother must have felt, not knowing when she would ever see us again. She returned to our London home to care for her ageing and ailing parents, toddler Peter and with Robin already well on the way.

Devonshire

St. Mary's School left London to escape from the imminently expected blitzkrieg. So, it changed from being a day school to a boarding school. Beesands is a tiny village on the Start Bay shore between Torcross and Start Point in the southern most part of Devonshire known as the South Hams. This beautiful fertile region of English countryside lies between the English Channel and perhaps the most rugged barren "last wilderness" in the southern half of Britain: Dartmoor.

The school house was a fairly large farmhouse, situated about a quarter of a mile along the shore just north of Beesands, towards Torcross It housed a total of about two dozen staff and pupils. The garden bordered the beach and was enclosed by a very high thick hedge - a very effective wind-break.

We had one of England's finest beaches on our doorstep - a vast expanse extending to about six miles north of Torcross, Slapton Sands and about three miles south to Hallsands. But these are misnomers, as the beaches are almost entirely shingle.

Tragically, the sea had almost totally eroded away the village of Hallsands and I believe that only two cottages were still inhabited when we left there in 1940.
There were no caravans on the foreshore then and for the first few months we had the beaches entirely to ourselves. Bathing was treacherous, with steeply shelved shorelines and severe undertow, other than at low tide and even then, never without a teacher being present was the strict rule, I recall.

We had a wonderful time. During that first "Indian summer" we, the younger groups, often ran around naked within the enclosed garden. Even during the first winter, we played mostly on the beach and foreshore.

I recall little of class sessions. I think that we were split three ways: a few under six years of age, about six of us between six and eight, about the same number between eight to 11 and a very few older children. I remember only three staff during that first year: the heads, Mr and Mrs Paul and Mrs E. (with her two children, Priscilla and her younger brother John, who was two or three years my senior).

Elizabeth Paul was a large, vibrant woman, who was enterprising, imposing and assertive. Beneath her larger-than-life macho image, I felt that there was some warmth and empathy, which she kept hidden most of the time. She was a linguist, being fluent in English, French and German. Heinz Paul (we nicknamed him "Higgy" - quite why escapes me) supported his wife, mainly behind the scenes and quite possibly was a tour de force there. I do not recall him actually teaching, possibly not being qualified. He appointed himself largely as the general factotum. Mrs E. was a gem of a primary teacher, with infinite patience, warmth and kindness.

Strangely enough I was not homesick, although Marian (still only five) was at times. Marian and I remained at the school over that first Christmas holiday, our parents deciding to visit us for the festive weekend instead, with a few very basic presents and extra clothes. The main reason for this, I believe, was that our London home was still filled with Jewish refugees (from father's escape line) awaiting clearance and passage to the States. Our parents had to come by train to Kingsbridge (this branch line later became a casualty of the "Beeching cuts") and then by taxi, as cars and petrol were allowed only to "essential" (and privileged) users during the war. I recall startling mother with my total rejection when she suddenly switched to speaking German to us (which I explain later).

I remember the arrival of Paul and his cousin Natasha, Jewish refugees from Vienna, who actually witnessed the Nazis marching into the Austrian capital - a situation which I found astonishing, in that they still managed to escape. Paul and I became firm friends for much of our childhood. (Paul went on, via Aldenham School and the Architectural Association, to earn quite a reputation as an architect. It is a small world - many years later, Marian met him and his own young family at the Caversham Centre in Kentish Town, London - the pioneering group practice/health centre, when it was still in Caversham Road - where Marian was the practice nurse!)

We had some beautiful walks: the Devon South Coast footpath to Start Point lighthouse, about seven miles round trip from the school. To Torcross too, via the mini fresh water newt pond in a glade (with many dragon-flies, newts and water-boat-men) and climbing Jacob's Ladder up a small rock-face to the top of the little headland to descend to the village. Behind Torcross lay the large fresh water lagoon of Slapton Ley alongside and just behind the beach, created by the natural silting-up process. (I found this path again over 40 years later and the vertical iron ladder, very overgrown but still there, exactly in proportion as I had remembered this at the age of seven.)

Naturally, we also explored the deeply hedged Devon lanes inland, into the farming areas, with the rich red clay soil and hedgerows dividing cattle from crops. Red squirrels were then still quite common, before being ousted by the grey.

The farm adjoining the school was mainly a pig farm. We were all upset with the slaughter sessions, as we could hear the pigs squealing for their lives. In those days they cut their throats and let them bleed to death, harvesting the blood. A nature walk for the entire school was organized on these afternoons, to allay our distress.

Most mornings, we had a before breakfast run: the older kids ran about 500 yards to the village store, called The Crab Pot (I believe it still is) and back, the younger ones ran about half way. Breakfast was certainly welcome after that. Despite food rationing, we always seemed to have had plenty.

Half a day each week was dedicated to maintaining the "sea wall" just below the high tide line as best we could, due to the immense tides causing erosion. This meant piling up stones and filling gaps with as many flat stones we could find, but setting them in a vertical plane with edge to seaward, to combat the lateral power of the waves along the beach. Frequently, we saw massive schools of porpoises or dolphins playing and "show-jumping" in the inshore waves.

By the time of our first holiday at home in 1940, I had deliberately forgotten all my German, despite the boast that the school specialized in being multi-lingual! There were three reasons for this. Firstly, anything German I was determined to scorn and reject, as Germany had rejected us and then became the dreaded enemy. Secondly, maintaining two languages may have exacerbated my speech impediment - a severe stammer (which I have long since learnt to manage). Lastly, in contrast to most refugee kids, my living-in (at home) grandparents knew sufficient English to not have to converse with them in German. So Marian and I lost our German, though for quite a while we could understand when we were not meant to!

One morning we discovered that a U-boat (German submarine) was trapped in Start Bay by a sandbank at low tide. We were rushed inland and out of sight, lest they opened fire on us. Apparently, they surrendered and a coast guard boat went out to officially take them prisoner and a trawler towed them in, probably to Plymouth.

On another occasion, we were all ushered to the back of the house when one of us noticed what looked like a mine floating in the waves. Very bravely, Mr Paul crawled Indian fashion down to the waters edge to investigate, eventually to return somewhat sheepishly (and wet) with a large medicine ball bladder (like a double sized football)!

Our world was beginning to feel a little less safe than that desired. Then, in late June 1940, about a month after the Nazi occupation of Belgium and Holland, France capitulated to the Germans. This meant that the Hun were amassing just across the water, with the invasion of England due next. Thus, the school had to evacuate again, from a potential combat area to a safer more central inland location. This move was indeed timely and fortuitous, as a stray torpedo (I know not whose) blew-up much of what had been our schoolhouse a few weeks after we vacated it.

This was my initial year at boarding school during the first year of the Second World War. I remained at the same school for the rest of the war at its new location in the heart of rural England, which is described in my follow-on article: Extraordinary Schooling in WW2 - Part two.

This story was submitted to the BBC People’s War site by Wymondham Learning Centre on behalf of the author who fully understand the site's terms and conditions.

I was born in November 1926 and was almost thirteen when the war began. We lived in a small house in East Acton, near Wormwood Scrubs in London — my father and mother, myself, and my three sisters. My two older sisters, who were sixteen and almost eighteen, went to work in factories. My father, who was about forty-one, had been in the army in India and was in the Territorial Army. He was called up at the start of the war. Later an Irish girl doing war work came to live with us. I think one of my sisters might have met her in a factory. The house was always full of girls during the war.

My younger sister was only seven and was evacuated to Oxford. Because she was so young I went with her. We boarded with a young couple with a baby. The wife was a wonderful cook and the food was lovely. She made delicious lardy-cakes.

I don’t remember how long I stayed in Oxford, but I remember seeing some of the wounded from Dunkirk laid out on the lawns at the front of one of the Oxford hospitals in 1940. A sea of blue hospital uniforms. It’s a sight I’ll never forget.

My younger sister stayed in Oxford but after some time I went back to East Acton, left school and started work. My first job was as tea boy and general dogsbody in a garage where my father had worked as a mechanic. I was paid 16 shillings and four pence for a five and a half day week. I learnt to drive there.

The Germans were bombing London. An Anderson shelter was built in our garden but it leaked badly and was constantly flooded. The interior was concreted so often that in the end it was too small to be any use and we didn’t bother with it. We got used to the bombing. They say you can get used to anything, don’t they? When the doodlebugs first started coming over we’d hide under the table, but the bombs didn’t stop my older sisters from going out and having a good time. There were dances in every pub and in many factory canteens, and they’d be out nearly every night. I used to save up my clothing coupons for them in return for cigarettes or other things, like butter- I can’t stand margarine. I often went to visit a friend in Harlesden and had to walk home — buses stopped at 9 p.m. It was a long walk through an air raid, but I just kept going. We never used Underground station shelters because where we were the line ran mostly above ground, where there were none.

Shortages are what I remember. Our family hadn’t had a lot before the war, when my father was often out of work and my mother skinned rabbits and washed jam jars in factories to keep us afloat. But we didn’t need a lot — not as much as people seem to need today.

Most factories had good canteens selling good solid British food very cheaply — better than you could get at home. There was a good British restaurant on the estate at East Acton selling the same. We were pretty well off for food, really.

Eventually I got work at Dubilier, a factory making electrical transformers.
I joined the Home Guard when I was at Dubilier. We trained in the factory canteen, using rifles with no bullets. The use of the rifle was demonstrated with blanks. In fact I never saw any ammo when I was in the Home Guard. One Saturday evening we went on an exercise in Hanger Lane, some of us positioned with our empty rifles on the balconies of the flats having cups of tea with the tenants while we hung about waiting for the “Germans” to arrive.

I was also a firewatcher. We’d work on a rota, usually two of us watching from the factory roof for fires started by incendiary bombs. If we spotted a fire one of us would run down and alert the fire-fighters.

It wasn’t easy changing jobs during the war — you had to get permission from the Ministry of Labour and were only allowed to move from one type of war work to another. I managed to transfer to a better-paid job at an aircraft factory on the North Circular Road, making Mosquito bombers and parts for Halifax bombers. Lots of girls worked there.

When the bombing got bad I left and joined a building firm that worked for the “Flying Squad”. It was good money. When the doodlebugs started coming over in earnest teams of men, many Irish, would go wherever they were sent to clean up the mess and put tarpaulins up to make places watertight as fast as possible. We went all over London.

My team was called out when a London bus fell into a bomb crater when a bomb landed immediately in front of it. I don’t know whether anyone survived. Heavy machinery was needed to haul the bus out of the hole.

While I was working on the roof of a place in Kilburn, three storeys high, I slipped. I slid down the roof on my back, digging my heels into the tiles to try to stop myself. My feet hit the guttering, which gave way, and I fell off the roof. I landed on a huge pile of broken tiles that had been tossed off the roof, and they broke my fall. If they hadn’t been there I’d almost certainly have been killed. I was sent home for the day. I must have been bruised, but I had no broken bones.

In 1944, the year I turned eighteen, I was called up, so for a while my father and I were both in the army, though we only saw each other once on leave during the war. I was put into the Grenadier Guards. I was given a warrant for railway travel and sent to barracks at Caterham in Surrey, where everyone went for initial training. I remember the jazz trumpeter Humphrey Littleton, who was also in training in the Grenadiers, playing in the NAAFI. It was winter, and we were made to gallop around in the snow in our vests and shorts to toughen us up. I was already pretty tough, as I’d had a hard life. Some of the men probably suffered more than I did.

After initial training we went to Windsor, where there was more marching and running around in Windsor Park, and night training on the river. Then to Minehead in Somerset to practice landing from barges — doing the opposite of lemmings, trying to leap out of the water and up cliffs.

Then we were sent to Scotland, near Hawick in the Borders. There was a German POW camp there and one of our duties was to guard it. It wasn’t a big camp — about two hundred or so prisoners. Hawick was a small place and there wasn’t a lot to do for entertainment. There were Polish soldiers stationed nearby. There was a regular hop in the village hall, and there were lots of fights with the Poles over girls. I didn’t get involved in any myself. One of my mates had an auntie in the town and when we had leave we’d visit her, and she’d give us some homemade cake to take back to camp. The grub was good in Hawick. We had good porridge with sugar.

Sometime after VE day in 1945 we were sent abroad. We were given seventy-two hours embarkation leave in London. I stood for eight hours on the train from Carlisle to London with all my gear, and then had to travel all the way back to Scotland with it before being sent down to ship out at Southampton. I don’t know why we couldn’t have been sent to the port from London. They talk about red tape today, but there was a lot more of it then.

We went on an old, rotten French tub, the “Champollion”. The food was foul. A battalion of South Wales Borderers travelled with us and we organised boxing matches with them for entertainment. We thought we were headed for the Far East, but we ended up at Haifa in what was then Palestine. Of course we weren’t told why, but later we thought that probably the atom bomb had been dropped on Japan while we were at sea, and we had been diverted.

Although the war was officially over there was still trouble in Palestine, which was being flooded with Jewish refugees. Palestine was under British mandate and the British were attempting to limit Jewish immigration because of protests from the Arabs. At one point we were called out to back up the Red Caps in an incident with a ship full of illegal immigrants — men, women and children - that had been refused entry into Haifa. Some of the refugees jumped overboard, others refused to leave the ship. The ship was rusty and conditions on board filthy. They were all taken off. Some of them had to be dragged. They were stripped and sprayed with DDT to delouse them and taken away to detention camps.

We thought the local Jews were friendly, until two British Sergeants were taken out of a bar by members of the Stern gang and hanged in an orange grove. The gang, led by Abraham Stern, were Zionists extremists who objected to the British administration. We never had any trouble from the Arabs.

I got dysentery in Palestine. It just struck me down. I was out of the Regiment for three months, and my weight went down to seven stone. I was at a convalescence centre outside Haifa. There was a horse-changing centre nearby and I learnt to ride a horse there. Camel trains ended up there as well — it must have been a staging post, because we’d see hundreds of camels milling around on the beach overnight and they’d be gone next day.

In the winter of 1947 I was given leave. I was sent home by what was called the MEDLOC route, on a US Liberty ship via Port Said to Toulon in Vichy France, where we stayed in a transit camp for three days during which we were forbidden to have any contact with the locals because the Vichy regime had collaborated with the enemy. It must have been someone in the camp who made the postcard containing my photo in a rose-wreathed heart, which I sent to my mother. We then travelled across France by train. It was bitterly cold. I’ve never been so cold in my life. The train stopped at Lyon or Dijon, where German prisoners served us food. They were better off than we were. They had tins laid out in which they were collecting foreign coins, and were selling cigarette cases made from old mess tins — beautiful filigree work.

I eventually got a boat to Liverpool and was demobbed at the end of 1947. I was twenty-one. I was given three months demob leave and then I had to find a job.

10th. August 1940
To Fus. WA Barter 6472227,
No. 1 Platoon,
Block No. 2,
Somerset Barracks,
Shorncliff,
Kent.

Gladys Barter,
58 Walterton Road,
Paddington,
London W.9.

Dear Walter,

Have you been enjoying the heat wave we’ve been having these last two or three days? It must be nice having the sea breezes, it’s been like an oven up here. I didn’t quite know what Mum would like for a birthday present, so I asked her. She said she would like a chain with a pendent so I will get her one if that’s alright with you. I think that’s nice, for her to choose something like that don’t you? Jess is going to get her curtains. I think I’ll get her a hat, I may have a day off on Saturday so we will get the pendent then so you will be able to see it when you come home. That’s nice you getting leave. I bet you are glad.

You were asking about the room, well the rain doesn’t come in at all now and I have got the window box. It fits fine, it has scarlet (?) in it now. I haven’t got anything else new for the room, I’m still broke. Jess is the one with all the money, she spends it like water. The settee does look nice, we must get some nice cushion covers. You were right, those green ones do look awful. I don’t quite know which colour would look nice, a softer green or a completely different colour. Can you think of one? Jess wants to get a carpet. I would like a patterned one wouldn’t you? It looks more cosy.

Ray came the other day, I didn’t see him as I was working late. Mum says he has gone very thin. He has seven days leave, he doesn’t know yet where he has to report to when it’s up. He seems to have been to a lot of different places since we last saw him. Mr. Ward has been this last week, Mum had to entertain him as Dad & Son were away. He has been very queer again, what a life always being ill.

Ray is here again tonight. He seems a bit brighter, he was rather fed up the other day. He’s growing a moustache, I don’t like it much.

Old Joe is waiting to be taken to post this letter so I’ll say cheerio,

Glad

PS I started this letter this afternoon and finished it tonight.

21st. August 1940
To Fus. WA Barter 6472227,
No. 1 Platoon,
Block No. 2,
Somerset Barracks,
Shorncliff,
Kent.

Gladys Barter,
58 Walterton Road,
Paddington,
London W.9.

Dear Walter,

I’m sorry I have not written before, the time has gone so quickly and I have been rather busy, not much time off. We have not been able to take the rest of the snaps yet. Mum was saying you liked the snap of the group which I had in my room. I don’t know where the negative is but you can have the snap, so here it is. Jess liked it too so we must try and find the negative.

Ern came on Sunday, he seemed all merry and bright. He hopes to get seven days leave soon, so he hopes it will be in September when Lill has hers. Do you see any chance of getting yours yet? It would be nice if you got it next month then Jess will be at home. We could arrange to go for some picnics and as you can now swim you could teach me so when we take a house at the seaside one year we shall be able to go in the sea.

Mr. Childs came today, he brought a photo of Ray. You can hardly recognise him, and that moustache, but old pop Childs is terribly proud of it. He’s given us one. Mum is trying to find Joe’s photo for you, the one where he is standing by himself. She found one of the first Joe, it’s quite a good one too so she will send it as well. Glad to hear you have a good cook but you had better not eat too much or you will bust those pants of yours.

What do you think of the raids we nearly had? The RAF must be jolly good to stop them from getting here. Son gave me the ten shillings. Mum hasn’t got the necklace yet she is waiting until next week when I leave this job then I can go and help her choose it. Tibs is sitting on the table right on the pad waiting for a chance to give the pen a swipe. He’s got a habit of getting up when Mum starts to play cards, he has a fine time. She had nearly got it out last night when he sent them all flying. She was wild and he sent sons pills right across the room. He’s quite a footballer. He is getting fat again and, wonders, he’s washing himself.

Mum doesn’t seem able to find one of Joe by himself so here is one with Dad. It’s quite a good one. Well, I will close now.

Cheerio
Glad
August 1940
To Fus. WA Barter 6472227,
No. 1 Platoon,
Block No. 2,
Somerset Barracks,
Shorncliff,
Kent. Jessie Barter Gorring(?)
Berks.
Dear Walt,
I expect you will have got the socks by now. I only posted them on my way back because we are miles from anywhere now. I shall have to walk a mile to post this, then there is only a box on a post, so I expect you will get this on Monday, although it is only Friday now.

I went home on Wednesday and we had an air raid from nine till four in the morning but we did not hear much. If I had known I would have gone to bed but of course you can’t be sure they won’t get through. We just heard a gun about every two or three hours and a single plane overhead. I was tired the next day. We went to Kensington and got the curtains. I also got some fire irons on a stand for the fire place, they look quite nice.

The tomatoes are getting along fine. I counted 27 good sized ones and a lot of tiny ones coming on, they take a long time to turn red but they are nice firm ones. There is a lovely garden where we are now, loads of plums and apples. I took a big tin box full of blackberries home on Wednesday and we had a pudding with some of them.

On our way to the station we picked up a young soldier, he was going on seven days leave, to Leicester. It was the first leave for five months he said, he seemed quite excited about it. There were four other soldiers in the train going up but they were going back from leave, to Ireland. One of them had a stainless steel mirror in a case, he took it out to show the others and told them not to pinch it. He had the last one pinched when he left it on a washbasin. “And it wasn’t there when you went back?” said one of the others, so surprised, of course everybody roared.

Have you seen a photo of Ray? Mum has got one, he has grown a moustache and it makes him look about 30 but it suits him I think. Quite a posh uniform he has on, with a peaked cap. I think they are much smarter than those convict caps they dish out now.

About the socks you sent back, I shall have to get some different kind of wool I think because it doesn’t seem to wash well. I’ve started some grey ones now and I’ll get the other when I go up next time. I’ll try and send this pair next week. Well Walt, I must stop now if I’m to get this posted. I suppose you are so used to air raids now you would miss them if they stopped,
Best Love,
Jess

29th. Aug. 1940
To Mr. H. Barter,
58 Walterton Road,
Paddington,
London W.9.
Fus. WA Barter 6472227,
No. 1 Platoon,
Block No. 2,
Somerset Barracks,
Shorncliff,
Kent.

Dear Harry,

I got your letter with the programme in it (QPR) you gave me a few happy moments looking at the two teams. I see that a lot of the young ones were not playing so very likely they are in the army too now. Looking at the fixtures I see that we are fielding two teams this season. It seems as if the air raids are going to mess things up a bit though if the match has to be stopped each time, still we must hope for the best. I shall get the evening paper each Saturday so I shall be able to see how they got on and I may be able to see a match when I get my seven days leave.

You wondered if I have heard anything of the shelling of Dover, well, we can hear the bangs in the distance but not very loud. They come over about every eight minutes and on Saturday about six were sent over.

So you went to see “Jack Ahoy” last week, I saw it when it came out first which was a long time ago, I did not think much of it at the time.

We still have a lot of air raids down here, we had one last night at 12.10. I don’t know how long it lasted as I went to sleep again. We are doing a lot of field training now as we are getting towards the end of our training. We were out all the morning, running all over the shop and some of the ground is very soft and slippery and we get in a real b—mess by the time we are finished. While we were out a raid came and we saw a bunch of eighteen German planes go over on their way to London, whether they got there or not I don’t know. On Tuesday we went out to do some wiring and tomorrow we are to start to dig trenches so we look as though we are in for a lot of hard work.

I wrote to Uncle Bill the other day so I should hear from him soon, He may be busy now that the air raids have come to his part of the world and he will tell me about it I expect and I shall pass it on to you as I don’t expect you have seen him just lately. How is the work going now? Has Mr. Ward been over again? Is Harry still working with you, will you let me have his address so I can write to him sometime?

Cheerio,
Wally

A Man's Story

I was born in Vienna there were five in my family I was the youngest and living a normal life until the politic upheaval in 1934. The democracy came to an end, parliament murdered by the Nazi. 1938 it looked as though he would get the vote, Hitler could not stand that. On the 10 March the programmes were interrupted, he had had an ultimatum from Germany and he had given into them and “God Protect Us”. As soon as that came about you could hear in the streets the shouting and jubilation and immediately Jews became outlaws. It started at the beginning, slogans painted on walls which we had to scrub, once they called me to scrub these I was just fourteen. There would be crowds of people some of whom you knew. One day a man was told to scrub the wall from a crouching position not a kneeling position a young man kicked him over and the crowd shouted and cheered. A young girl with blonde curly hair was held up to watch and enjoy the show. Between the wars they built a lot of municipal flats, even now very much sought after. In the first eight months more Jewish flats were taken over than built. Someone would knock at the door and would tell you to leave by 2 o’clock and take nothing with you. The SS who were the more intellectual ones they took over. In Vienna ten per cent of the inhabitants were Jewish. We did not have to wear the star that came later. We tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, tried to get home from school as fast as we could without running. Even now if we see a group of youngsters coming towards us I want to cross the road.

Not allowed in parks, swimming pools, Jewish doctors only tend Jewish patients. An embassy official was shot by a Jew, he died, that was the beginning of Kristalnacht. Afterwards synagogues burnt, Jews arrested. My father was in bed with angina when they came for him and as his doctor was not Jewish he was left alone. Both my sisters taken away. They scrubbed the floors in the flats across the yard. One of my sisters was eighteen at the time in 1938 They started to collect money to transport children out of Vienna (kinder transport) organised by groups in Britain, for each child £50 had to be collected.

Father owned a Chocolate Factory but was made bankrupt by a credit rating bureau then he became a travelling salesman. He had wanted to be a doctor but times were hard and he was unable to become one. My mother was a secretary. One sister was working and the other was training to be a tailor. I was lucky because I was one of the very first to be transported from Vienna in 1938. The Nazi’s were in Vienna immediately when Schuschnigg abdicated.

A committee in Britain organised the transport of children. It did not matter if you were born to Jews and did not practice Judaism the Nazi treated you the same/.
I was in a daze and it only hit me when I could not go in to the next room to talk to my mother or father. I had the opportunity to say goodbye to my parents and it was the first time I saw my father cry. My sister was able to get a domestic permit and was able to come to Britain. My youngest sister was too young so she stayed in Vienna and of course never made it. I met my wife in London.

There were some adults who were looking out for us on the train. The German guards did not say anything but they were not friendly and we were afraid of uniforms. It was a terrible time when rules were abandoned and people could do what they wanted you were unable to go to the police because they might have beaten you up.

It was about a two days long journey, went from Holland to Harwich, Holland was not occupied at the time. Harwich, it was winter. Christmas was a non-event that year. In the camps they had two chalets back to back, one of the girls I still meet her she is in Vienna now. Although we were in the same boat when the people came to pick us, it was the sweet little girls that went first. I chose to go with some to Northern Ireland to a Hostel. From there we went to a farm bought by the Belfast community, where refugees could be self-sufficient. I was there for three years. I got in touch with one of the girls from the farm and although we had been there for three years we did not know each other very well, we were all licking our own wounds.

My mother and sister were on their way to Auschwitz two months before it was liberated. People still got married throughout the war. We have contact with our family and exchanged letters to and from Ireland. All men had to have the name Israel and the women Sarah. Sweshenstien had their own currency. If you left the town you lived in you had to apply to the police for a permit to ride a bicycle.

A Woman's Story

I was the eldest and had two younger brothers. My father owed 120 Austrian schilling (less than £2) tax, for that the Nazi came and cleared our furniture including my doll. I came home a little too early and saw the doll being put on the van. We had no money and had to leave, we lived in a hovel. We lived out of wooden boxes, we had no running water, I do not know how my parents managed, my mother being pregnant. My father tried to cross the border into Czech illegally, he was unsuccessful and had to come back.

I had a friend who was not Jewish and when the Germans came we were separated I could not understand and was signalling to her to come and sit next to me but it was not allowed. At the school we had a picture of the Austrian Chancellor on the wall and when we went into the classroom we saw it had been taken down and replaced by Hitler. The German teacher said “Isn’t it wonderful how his eyes follow you around the room”.

I left my mum heavily pregnant on the station I was twelve years old and my main concern was that they would not take my mum in hospital because the Germans did not allow the Jews to use the hospital.

My brother was born two days after I left on the transport. He died this year on 14 Feb. We did not understand what was going on, my mother’s last word was take care of Otto and we were immediately separated. The first people who were kind to us were the Dutch non-Jewish but they gave us cocoa. English tea is a shot of tea and milk. I was one of the lucky ones because my aunt (my fathers sister) came to England on a domestic permit. She advertised in the Jewish Chronicle to see if anyone wanted to adopt two children. Somebody replied from Liverpool and we had a home. We did not understand because they were not our parents, they had no children there were no toys but they were kind. We attended school but understood nothing, no decimals, I did not know what were feet, yards, nothing was worked out in tens, it was very difficult. When war broke out we were evacuated to Chester to a Jewish school. Morshack were the couple we were living with, meeting friends. Stood there like cattle being taken to families. Otto and I were split up. I was able to se him. I thought he was nicely placed with a family but years later he said he was the most unhappy child. I managed to pick up the language when I worked in London.

It was the coldest winter, I had chilblains, the school was overcrowded we were having lessons in the big hallway with one log fire, we would walk home at lunchtimes for toast and then walk back. I learnt the piano I burst into tears when I heard the Blue Danube. At fourteen my parents had come over to London. Could buy food and coal for £1. I went to London to start work, my mother found work in the dressmaking industry for me. I can still stitch my hems perfectly, Otto went to a private school in Swill cottage. My parents were evacuated to Salisbury and the boys went with them. Otto got to Cambridge University. We had to be registered we got very friendly with the police because they knew we were harmless. Erica, Walter’s sister was on the Isle of Wight and was named as an enemy. She met here husband whilst fire watching in London. Walter and I got married in the Salisbury Register Office in1944 while he was on embarkation leave.

I worked as a children’s nurse in London. It was WBC day nursery and then the doodlebugs came and provided you saw them overhead you were all right it was if they cut out. You thought nothing of it, it was life as it was at the time. You could walk around quite safely more so than you could do now. The nearest shelter was at Swiss cottage, and we used to sleep right through the air raids without using it. I came home one day and you could see the shrapnel sparking on the pavements and you just carried on. The V2 were completely silent you just heard the big bang. People used to sleep in the underground, curlers in their hair. People were so friendly.

Theatres and cinemas were still open, Walter came back suntanned and with his dark eyes and dark hair and when an Indian came and spoke to him in English it was the first time somebody did not think was a foreigner. We went back to Austria. Walter studied whilst I was there but in Austria they did not like you studying at home like in England. It was fun there we had our children there. Hetta’s parents did not want to go back so they stayed in Bournemouth. Walter’s parents and family on two separate trains went to the gas chamber in 1944, we got married in that year and a new generation has blossomed. We were extremely lucky.

On arriving at St Johns Wood, I reported to the duty N C O and he wrote my name down in the register. Then a Private took me to a billet, here I found another N C O, that had arrived earlier. We got talking, none of us knew each other. Then we were given some food to eat. None of us left the camp that evening. During the evening there were more N C O's and Privates arriving at our billet.
The next morning we were all paraded, and we were then informed that we had to do a six week refresher course. Over the next few weeks, we did all of the basic training such as rifle, map reading and everything that you learnt when you joined the Army.
After we had completed the training and passed out I had a weekend pass , which I used to go and visit my family. Then we were posted to other camps. Myself and eleven others were all posted to Hookwood in Surrey, which was a Royal Ordanance Store Depot. We unloaded all of our kit and was taken to the Dining room and given tea. The cook was A T S and there was five Italian Prisoners-of-War sitting at the top of the table and they were talking. Three of the N C O's went to the table and found out that they had been Prisoners-of-War in Italy. They could speak the language so they started speaking Italian, but two of them moved away and it nearly came to punch up, but it was the woman cook that stepped in to calm things down.
There were some Ordanance group also working there and also civilians work, we never saw much of the Captain. He was always with a A T S Driver. Nearby was an
R A F Aerodrome, which is now called Gatwick Airport. We spent our evening in the pub with the A T S. It was Christmas 1945 and we had leave. All of the N C O's had a chicken to take home for Christmas, but I cannot tell you how we won them?
On returning back from our Christmas leave, the N C O started to get demobbed at one or two at a time. I spoke to Captain Gardener about signing on for 2 years, that was 1946. As the N C O got demobbed, we had a party at the Pub. Next, the A T S returned to Guildford in Surrey to the A T S camp. The R A O C were to move to another camp. I was to take some stores from the Quarter Master's store and travel by road to Colchester in Essex. We arrived on the Tuesday afternoon and unloaded the stores. The Quarter Master Sergeant told us to put it into a large room and gave us the key. He then said that after we had finished doing this, to hand the key back to the storeman.
I was shown my billet and unpacked my kit. Then on the Wednesday I reported to the Quarter Master, he told me to lay out the stores to go to Hookwood for checking.
On Thursday afternoon I again reported to the Quarter Master, got ready to hand over but he said to leave it until the Friday. As the storeman had been working with me, we checked the stores together and he agreed that everything was in order and then signed the document. I also signed the document and handed the key to the storewoman. Next morning, the Quarter Master
said " I check the stores and then take them off your hands". At 10.00 a.m., the Quarter Master approached me stating that some stores were missing. I said to him "Bull, it was all present yesterday". he replied to me "Not now it isn't, then report the thief to the Company Commander"
I was told to report to office, Quarter Master was stating stores stolen. The Company Officer turned to me and said"What do you have to say?" I replied "All the stores were present and correct yesterday when I locked up" He then said "What proof have you?" I then handed him the C/O my document which had been signed by myself and the storeman. Also stated that they key had been handed to the storewoman. I then said " Call in the Special Police. The C/O replied "No need for that" That was the case closed and shut. Two months later, having gotten to know the other stores across the way, they told me "You know those stores that you had lost earlier, they were in our stores. I asked them who had brought them to them and the reply that I got, was the QUARTER MASTER!
C S M Simpson spoke to me about transferring to R A O C as a driver. I thought about it for two days. I then approached the C S M to sign my document and within the week I was in the R A O C. I took a driving test, which I passed.
One Friday in September 1946, the Sergeants Mess was robbed of cigarettes, tobacco and spirits. On the Saturday at 12.00p.m. I was on my way to the station with others when two civilians stopped me. They asked me what I had in my back pack and I told them that it was none of their business. They then showed me their documents and they turned out to be Special Investigation Police. So I opened my pack, out came a Army boot, I was asked why I was taking this home, I told them, to give them a good clean. I asked them why had they stopped us. One of them said had we not heard and we did not know what he was talking about. But it was the news that the Sergeants Mess had been robbed. I could have turned round and said to the "Try the Quarter Master, he stole my stores" But I thought better of it so I held my tongue!
It was 1947 and I had put in for an Overseas posting. I got the posting and I was then sent to Feltham in Middlesex,I had 7 days leave. At hat time, my wife had run off with an R A F Sergeant to Scotland. On my return, after my leave, at 6.00a.m., the draft for Germany came through. So I boarded a train to London, once in London I had to go across town to King Cross station. I waited there until 3.00 p.m. and then boarded another train for Hull up North. On the Monday, we boarded a ship for Germany. It arrived in Hamburg in Germany on Friday. We spent the weekend in Hamburg and we found the Germans were friendly. On the Monday we boarded a train which was to take us to Dusseldorf, When we arrived there a lorry was waiting for us so we got aboard. There were twelve of us. Off we went, along the way, the men were being dropped at different places. Everyone had got off except there were two of us left. When we stopped again, both of us reported to the Office. It was 145 Vehicle Park and I learnt that my other travelling companion was called Private Barr and he was Scottish. He went to the Quarter Master's stores. I just clicked my heels until Major Hurley read my documents and I was told to report to his office. He asked me questions such as "Was I a Prisoner-of-War?" I replied "Yes"."Can you speak and understand german" Once again I replied "Yes". So to se if I was telling the truth, he sent for a German to test me. This German had worked in the camp and he tested me and said I was alright. The Major then told me to report to the Special Police Unit in M I R. On arriving,no on was at home. The home address British Occupation of Rhine (BAOR). That afternoon I met Justeward N C O and Felix Kaufman, who was half Jew. He was the interpreter, he spoke to me in German, I replied, he then said "Are you Polish" I said "No" He said"Ex Prisoner-of-War good". Another interpreter was Alex, whose Father was English and the Mother was German. He had served with the German Air Force but he was not to be trusted by Felix.
My Mother wrote to me to tell me that my wife was going to have a baby, so I then made enquiries about obtaining a divorce.
Our duty was to recover War Department stolen property. We would check vehicles for wheels with loose nuts then we would lay in wait, at night. Nine times out of ten, we always had a result. When we visited places on information obtained, it more or less always led us to an arrest and trial. We made road blocks on the Autobahns where we would stop lorries or cars. One night, we stopped an Ambulance, the Police said "No Ambulance". I stopped the vehicle and what was inside was a cow and two German civilians. This was going to be a German Police case. The Mayor, had given us a free hand but it was only the Mayor that received our weekly reports. We received documents from the Mayor. Whenever we needed food or accommodation for the night at Army or Military, this was always available to us. We would always give them a telephone number so that it could be verified and that was that. But we never ever got freedom of the barracks. In the short time that we had been in operation, we had recovered quite a number of tyres and one vehicle. Saturday evenings were spent at the Cafe Belton which was in the town of Wermelskirenen. Here the Off Duty Officers and wives and other ranks would socialise with the Germans. The lads would be after the girls and when the cafe closed there would be no transport home, so they had to walk home. Christmas was nearly upon us. The lads had a good time with us that year. Officers and senior ranks waited on tables and after lunch, you could do as you wished. On the eve of the New year, there was one great party which was held at the Cafe Belton