Recruitment & training
At eleven o'clock on a Sunday morning in September 39, the Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain spoke on the wireless, he gave the dire news that from 11am that day Great Britain was to be at war with Germany, terrible news even at the age of nineteen. My father and I listened in stunned silence, he had served with the Royal Flying Corps as it was then known for the duration of the first Great War 1914-1919.
At
this time 1939, we were living at Abbots Road New Barnet and I took my dog
for a walk to settle my mind. I got as far as the shops and suddenly the air-raid
sirens started wailing to everybody's amazement, and in some little panic
someone even suggested Jerry must be on his way already with 'Stukas' to bomb
London or even worse us lot out in the 'sticks'.
Things were to hot up very soon, as autumn wore on 'dog fights' appeared in the skies overhead and an occasional German raider dropped small (at that time) bombs mostly on the surrounding countryside.
Once on a misty evening whilst walking with a girl by Totteridge Common a bomber appeared out of the fog low and lost I would think, and on seeing the Swastika markings frightened us to death and we dived into the ditch.
As the new year drew into 1940 things looked black. Although in a good job as a fitter and turner I was not settled. England certainly was not ready for war at this time.
We had at home for some months three Gunners from the T/A Royal Artillery billeted on us and they had to 'Kip down' on the floor of our front room, many of the local lads had joined the 'Terriers', parading up Barnet High Street in their flash new uniforms with riding breeches and booted spurs, but Hitler was not going to be stopped by horse-drawn gun-carriages.
Three of us, mates since school days, spent our spare time between a few pints of beer in the local pubs, darts, snooker and girls but were all very unsettled.
Around February one of us, Ted Ogden 'Oggie' as he was known quietly crept off one day and reported back that he had joined the Navy. That upset Bill Marlow and so we decided to go together to try and get in the Marines as his father was in them in the last effort.
That day at the recruiting centre Bill was passed in as A.I. and I failed on medical grounds, they were still a bit particular at this time and told me I did not come up to the required standard of height and build for that regiment. I was shattered, a miserable few weeks passed and when he got his papers to report to Marine barracks Gosport, I immediately went on my way to Edgware and volunteered for the Army.
This time my luck was in and I went home and broke the news that I have taken the 'Kings Shilling' and signed up as Sapper, in the Royal Engineers for the 'Duration of Emergency', it was 6th June 1940, the tragedy of Dunkirk was coming to its close so I decided to follow my mates and do my little bit to stop old Hitler's antics.
A week or two went by and finally the paper arrived complete with travel warrant by train to Scarborough Yorkshire and to report to R.E. Depot.
At this time there was a shortage on supplies so at Q.M. Stores after kit issue old 1914-18 equipment, big old heavy packs, belts, putties etc: together with out of date P.45. American riffles, heavy as hell that on the firing range fired anywhere but where the signs said it should.
This was how we turned out one night when the order came to 'Stand-To/Battle Order full kit' Thus raw recruits with only a few weeks square-bashing and not much else, never even been on the range to fire our cumbersome rifles we waited for Hitler's expected invasion. Little did we know at the time it was the ill-fated German 'Operation Sea-Lion' that very nearly came off.
I'm afraid the state of the readiness on Scarborough beaches with regard to 5/5 Coy.R.Es. was dubious indeed to say the least and I doubt that I should be here to tell the tale if it had occurred!
Night guard duty at this time was pretty hairy because although each man was issued with a bandolier of 25 rounds, five of which was in the magazine on mounting guard, you could never be quite sure under these circumstances some silly bugger, extra nervous, hadn't quietly put one up the spout in the dark with the safety-catch off strictly against Section Orders, for we were a mixed lot of mostly north country lads, Welsh but very few Londoners all strangers to me.
In the autumn of that year the Coy. moved to Codford on Salisbury Plain first billeted in old farm buildings and then under canvas in bell tents, with snow and freezing conditions we were getting toughened up with plenty of 'Scrumpy' Cider to boost the moral!
One weekend when free from guard duty I got talking with a couple of London lads and we decided on the spot of 'French-leave' back up the 'smoke' for 48hrs. Easy enough to catch a train at the next station up the line, change at Salisbury and straight through to Waterloo, to the outskirts of London, to our horror we found ourselves right in the middle of an air-raid with A.A. Batteres blasting away amid bombs falling everywhere, we had no steel-helmets with us as we were A.W.O.L. That was a 'Military Offence' for starters for the first M.P. to spot us, somehow in the chaos at Waterloo station we scrambled through the ticket-barrier luckily without being stopped, the journey by tube was just as hazardous only easing up when I got as far as Totteridge, and so home for the first night between clean sheets for six months!.
The next night I set off back to base but at the platform at Waterloo my luck ran out. I got through the barrier all right then a dirty big Red-Cap appeared from nowhere with the demand to see my pass which of course was non-existent!
He collard hold of me and with no chance to escape in the crowd I was marched off and put in front of the Duty-Officer to explain myself. Having blissfully hoped this situation not occur I just started babbling some yarn about having to visit my stick old mother who had been bombed-out of house and home. "No pass no rail-warrant for official leave? All balls" he shouted "I'm phoning your Coy.H.Q for your C.O. to deal with you on your return to camp and you will be escorted on the next train heading for Salisbury, and lets just hope they don't shoot you at dawn."
When my train was due to leave two M.P's escorted me on it and made sure that I was still there as it moved from the station. On my return to camp I was immediately bunged in the guardroom under lock and key to await 'Defaulters Parade' next morning. After hearing my poor excuse the captain told me I was a bloody liar and fool and they gave me 28 days detention with full pack-drill. It wasn't too bad and they were fairly easy with me as I was the only one to get caught, trust my luck!
A week or so after this little episode, my name appeared on the Coy. Notice board for (would you believe) a posting to Lewisham Polytechnic London for a 'fitters and turners course'. I got issued a rail-warrant this time and with a few weeks to Christmas duly reported back up the 'Smoke'.
There were a bunch of us from different companies also odd Matelots and Airmen from all over. About five of us under a Lance-Corporal were billeted in a nearby empty basement of an old-fashioned Victorian three-storied house. We drew our own rations but also got a main midday meal from the Poly canteen.
The weeks that followed were grim! Day and night air-raids with havoc all round, but this time in particular it was the fire-bombs and the docks along the Thames that got it the worse off. But we had our share of hectic all night "Fire-Watch" 2hours on 4hours off.
The worst was the off-duty hours in the basement. You could not sleep until exhausted for the ear-racking din of 'AK.ACK' guns and bombs whistling and blasting all around, we were very lucky, no hits or casualties.
But even a visit to the local pub for a couple of quick pints was a hair-raising experience. Fine when you made it inside, the bar was going full blast with the piano being played as loud as possible to drown the racket outside! But if, as sometimes happened, there was activity overhead when came the time to return to billets the ten minutes or so to get under cover again seemed like a lifetime.
Shrapnel pinging on the pavement, roadway, and even on your tin helmets! Not a very nice sensation even with a few beers in your belly.
Looking back on those days I wonder indeed how those chaps who did not smoke or drink survived, there were none in our little section that I recall under these conditions I'm afraid I myself was in excess of both many a time.
Even a weekend leave to get home from Lewisham to Barnet was a hazardous affair. Alright on the tube underground but when it came to above ground at Highgate your ran gauntlet of enemy aircraft. Because a blackout, the flashes from the electric rails showed up a mile away. Sometimes in heavy raids the trains stopped there, so the choice was maybe an all-night kip on the platform or chance it, which mostly I did catch a late night tram that took its chance.
The further you got away from the 'Smoke' the better for your health! I was very lucky that I only had about 2 months of London's fire-blitz.
