| My mother met me off the train at Waterloo and we went home together to our new flat. With only my parents and my eldest sister living at home in a four bedroomed flat I had a bed and a room of my own for the first time in my life. Apart from the four bedrooms each having a bed and sharing chests of drawers, the only other furniture was the kitchen table and chairs in the living room, so additional furniture became a must. Finances, however, were even more difficult than before because my parents had to pay the Government for the upkeep of their evacuated children (there were no family allowances ). By returning home I had reduced that payment but now, at 15 years of age, I had to find a job as quickly as possible after Christmas but, first, I needed a new pair of trousers and a jacket.
I cannot remember much about that first wartime Christmas. I met our new neighbours, all of whom had recently moved in like ourselves, but there were no boys of my own age and my school friends were still in Devon. Our flat was on the first floor overlooking a small, but pleasant, public garden which separated us from the busy New Kent Road.
After Christmas, armed with my R.S.A. Certificates for book-keeping, typing and shorthand, and with the optimism of youth, I set out for the Employment Exchange in the City of London. I was lucky and quickly obtained a post of Junior Clerk with a firm of wholesale provision merchants who had their offices, shop, stores and bacon curing ovens in Smithfield Market. They worked a five and a half day week, 8.30am to 5pm (12.30pm on Saturdays) and my wages were £1 per week, of which I gave half to my mother. My half had to cover 5 lunches in a cafe (9d per day), 6 return bus fares (2d per day), haircuts, clothes and entertainment.
I had never owned a bicycle so my first purchase, after saving the Hire Purchase deposit, was a three speed bicycle. The Hire Purchase repayments were three shillngs and sixpence per week for one year. However, by cycling to and from work I saved my daily bus fares.
At work my duties were similar to office juniors everywhere - keeping the stamp and post book, sorting and distributing incomimg mail, attending to visitors etc. There was one highlight every day - the bank run, and it was a run because our cashier, who received all incoming cheques and the cash from transactions in the shop, could not adjust his daily routine to the newly revised wartime banking hours, which brought forward bank closing hours by one hour. He was always late cashing up and had to telephone the bank every day to apologize. So I always arrived after the bank had closed its doors and had to knock to be let in. Furthermore he never faced up his £1 and 10 shilling notes in proper order much to the annoyance of the bank staff.
The company did not have a bag or case in which to carry the money and cheques so I had to stuff four or five bundles of notes, each containing £100, and a few odd ones, into the pockets of my jacket together with cheques and paying in book.
Another daily trip out of the office was for the delivery of local mail, in order to save postage, and, when the cost of postage increased from one and a half pence to two and a half pence, I had to deliver mail to various importers in the Tooley Street area running between Tower Bridge and London Bridge south of the Thames. Unfortunately this latter task did not last long as it took me 2 to 3 hours but it was very interesting, while it lasted, visiting so many different types of premises, including wharves where large vessels were tied up, and I soon knew my way around the City and the Upper Docks.
No longer a member of the Choir and with no meetings of the Boys Brigade, I spent my weekends watching football, going to the cinema with my eldest sister and riding my bicycle into the countryside. An aunt and uncle had moved to Worthing on the Sussex coast and I cycled there on occasions but my favourite was Box Hill in Surrey, with its wonderful views, and Kenley airfield to see the fighter aircraft take off and land - this was before the Battle of Britain.
Then the Battle started. In Smithfield Market, with its large expanse of glass roofing, we took shelter in the cellars when the air raid sirens sounded during working hours, but this routine did not last for long. Not only was it very cold down there but no bombs were falling to start with and time was wasted so, when the alert sounded, one of we younger males would climb up onto the roof with a whistle to give warning if any attack appeared. The roof was an excellent vantage point from which to see our fighters in action high in the sky and I cannot recall a bomb falling in the vicinity of the market during office hours.
Towards the end of August 1940 I decided to enrol for a twice weekly evening class on economics at the Kennington Evening Institute, although the classes were to be disrupted by air raids many times during the autumn and winter 1940/41.
The first air raid which came close to our home occurred on a Saturday afternoon in September. We were on a balcony in the flats watching vapour trails high up in the sky when BANG and we were all flat on our backs. A bomb had landed and destroyed a number of terraced houses less than 100 yards away. It was then that I decided to join the Royal Air Force in order to hit back. However, at the Recruiting Office I was told that they did not accept 16 year olds into aircrew and suggested that I waited a little longer but, in the meanwhile, why not join the Air Defence Cadet Corps ( the forerunner of the Air Training Corps) to meet other lads who were interested in joining the R.A.F. So I became a member of the Lambeth squadron of the ADCC with its HQ in Brixton and my weekly pattern of life after work became two evenings at Evening Classes, two evenings and Sunday mornings at the ADCC ( later the Air Training Corps), one evening at the cinema and two evenings at home. All these activities, however, were subject to interruption by air raid alerts which, in late 1940 and early 1941, seemed to occur almost every night.
One of the more frightening aspects of these air raids, known as the London Blitz, was the noise. Anti-Aircraft guns barked away and their shells exploded in the air, aircraft engines roared, bombs whistled on their way down and made loud explosions on landing, buildings collapsed amid a roar of falling bricks etc. and emergency vehicles sounded their bells. The combined noise was frightening enough but, in addition, there was the added fear that the next moment might be your last (at the age of 16).
We saw, from our balcony one night, St. Paul’s Cathedral silhouetted against a background of fire when the City was attacked with fire bombs. The area around the Elephant & Castle also became a target with flames from one side of a street leaping across to the other side as the paintwork on shop fronts caught fire and many buildings were gutted. Our block of flats received a direct hit which severely damaged the roof and top floors. Damage to the lower level flats, including ours, was confined to broken windows. In fact, during the Blitz, we lost our windows and curtains on three occasions.
Getting to work on time frequently became very difficult with streets cordoned off and fire hoses lying across roads, but my bicycle was a great asset as I could carry it over or around obstacles. However, morale generally was good. I would lie in bed listening to the singing as the local pub closed for the night and people would make every effort to get to work every day.
So 1940 turned into 1941 and another year started on its way. I asked for, and obtained, a rise of ten shillings per week in my wages (it was granted immediately and I realised that I should have asked before) and I became the assistant to the cashier (Mr. Crow) in the downstairs market office receiving cheques and cash from customers and keeping the Day Book. There were in fact two Day Books, one entitled MWF (Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays) and the other TTS (Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays). Entries were made in the Day Books for all cash and cheques received and they had to balance daily with the bank paying-in book.The three ledger clerks in the upstairs office posted all the items the following day when we used the second book in the downstairs office. A simple but effective system because any mistakes would show themselves by the following day.
With the Hire Purchase repayments on my bicycle completed, I purchased my first packet of 10 cigarettes on my 17th birthday and smoked one or two cigarettes a day. I only made further purchases when I could afford it, which was not very often.
No. 50F (Lambeth) Squadron Air Training Corps (ATC for short) attracted many lads and became far too large so a number of us were formed into the nucleus of a new squadron (No. 1328) with our HQ in a large converted house (possibly an old vicarage) in Stockwell (midway between the Elephant & Castle and Clapham Common). I was promoted to Corporal then to Sergeant and, on a Sunday in late spring, we made the first of many visits to RAF Biggin Hill, a fighter station, for air experience flights in a Miles Majister two seater aircraft.
I expect everyone’s first flight is an unforgettable experience but there are not many young lads who had their first flight from an operational fighter airfield near to London in wartime with an American pilot from the Eagle Squadron. (The U.S.A. were not at war in early 1941 and the pilots of the Eagle Squadron wore RAF uniforms).
Our ATC evening training sessions included lessons in navigation and wireless operating with drill parades or Church parades on Sunday mornings. Also, on Saturday afternoons during the summer of 1941, I took part in many ATC
athletic meetings after I discovered, to my surprise, that I could show a clean pair of heels in a sprint. I was a fairly well built lad and it was at one of these athletic meetings that an ATC officer, who had a connection with Blackheath Rugby Club, asked me if I played rugby. When I said “No” he offered me the opportunity to attend training sessions with the rugby club, which I did, and before the end of the year I was playing rugby regularly as a Wing Threequarter on Saturday afternoons, and I enjoyed every minute of it. I also learnt to box and to drink beer.
My grandmother died in 1941. She had not been in hospital for very long and I was only able to visit her there on two occasions. On my second visit I wore my ATC uniform, she very much appreciated this (remember that grandfather has been a regular soldier) and said that she was pleased that I was doing my bit. My father’s links to his younger days were now reduced to just his younger sister.
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