I Only Came For The Music: 7 - If War Comes
...At eleven o'clock our family was gathered in the living room. Joan, as usual, had to be different. She was perched on the edge of the dining table swinging her legs and ignoring Mum's remark 'For heavens sake Joan, get off the table and stop making the place look untidy.' I don't remember very much about Chamberlain's speech, other than he told us that a country called Poland had been occupied in August, which we knew already. He announced that Britain and France were now at war with Germany. I remember thinking what a very old, tired voice he had...
Betty McKay recalls the day war was declared. To read earlier chapters of Betty's engaging autobiography please click on I Only Came For The Music in the menu on this page.
The Second World War was declared on Sunday the 3rd September, 1939. At eight o'clock that morning there had been an announcement on the BBC news. Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister would be speaking to the nation later that morning.
At eleven o'clock our family was gathered in the living room. Joan, as usual, had to be different. She was perched on the edge of the dining table swinging her legs and ignoring Mum's remark 'For heavens sake Joan, get off the table and stop making the place look untidy.' I don't remember very much about Chamberlain's speech, other than he told us that a country called Poland had been occupied in August, which we knew already. He announced that Britain and France were now at war with Germany. I remember thinking what a very old, tired voice he had.
A few minutes later the air raid sirens sounded. I thought it was really scary. This couldn't be the real thing, could it - so soon. The pulsating wailing which rose and fell was really a very strange noise! I said "What's that?" and Dad said, "It's probably just a test alarm". Then a few minutes later, the all clear sounded, the long clear signal. So now we all knew what to expect.
A few months before, my parents had taken me to see a film, which I think was called 'If War Comes'. The film portrayed what would happen in Britain if we were at war. There were scenes of aerial bombardment, blitzkrieg as the Germans called it, and the devastation it would cause. I don't remember being frightened. I realised it wasn't real, merely a simulated situation.
Of course all the boys in the neigbourhood acted as if they knew precisely how to win the war. I remember Teddy Skelland talking about 'pincer movements' and 'strategic planning' and Flo saying. "Well that's alright, we've nothing to worry about then, have we?" and blowing him a raspberry. Then we laughed and ran off up the street.
Before long we were issued with ration books for food and clothing coupons. Then came the dreaded gas masks. Nothing in this world had prepared me for the horror of school gas mask drill. To accustom us to wearing the masks, all the pupils would file into the bomb shelters, which had been hurriedly built away from the school at the edge of the playground.
We sat on the seating provided. Then the terror commenced. We had to put the gas masks on and sit breathing normally for a few minutes. I was so frightened I couldn't breathe and would wrench the wretched thing off. In spite of all the hectoring from the mistress in charge, that I would die if I didn't keep my gas mask on. there was no way I could wear that terrifying object. After a few weeks gas mask drill was abandoned thank goodness!
The first Christmas of the war looked as if it would be a pretty dismal affair. Dad knew a funny little Irishman, called Dan, who kept chickens. He lived in the middle of a row of tiny cottages, just beyond The Dog and Partridge public house at Woolston. There might be a chance that Dan could supply us with a chicken and maybe even a few eggs. Luxury beyond belief!
Dad took me with him. I loved going to Dan and Mary's. She was his sister and kept house for him. They both looked incredibly old and the house had a peculiar musty, waxy smell, which I suppose was the odour of poverty. Dad and I had been there many times before, always to buy chickens or eggs. They also sold mint and vegetables, which Dan grew in his long, back garden where he kept his chickens.
They spoke with broad Irish accents, which I loved, and their brown, homely faces wrinkled when they smiled and talked to me. Around the living room were pictures made from seashells, which were fascinating. As we left the cottage, Mary gave me a shiny brown and cream coloured seashell, inside which, if you put it against your ear, you could hear the rushing sound the sea makes.
We went home with a chicken and a dozen eggs, and Mum was well pleased. There was a Christmas pudding that had been made the year before and which had 'kept' because it had been well soaked in brandy last year. Because of the eggs we were able to have a Christmas cake and we had home-made mince pies as well.
On Christmas morning, I found a china baby doll at the bottom of my bed, it said 'made in Germany' on the back of its neck. Mum called her a 'square-head', which wasn't fair because she was really a very pretty doll. Dad said you could tell she was German, just by looking at her but I loved her. I named her Gretel.
When the war ended toys, especially china dolls, were difficult to find. A friend of Eve's had a little girl, and Eve showed Mrs. Jolly my doll. She offered me three pounds for Gretel, which was quite a profit on the five shillings that Mum originally paid for her. By then I was fifteen and as I no longer played with dolls, I sold her. Gretel had made that little girl and a big girl very happy.
