Childhood Memories of Havant

I was born in Waterloo Road at 12.45 p.m. on 18 June 1937, the one hundred and twenty-second anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. As was often the custom, I was named Ralph after my father, luckily I suppose as I could have been called Napoleon or Wellington. This day was some premonition of the circumstances in which I was shortly to grow up. I was an only child, but as my father had twelve brothers and sisters and my mother fourteen, I had fifty-one aunts and uncles and over fifty first- cousins, so I was not exactly lonely.

At this time my father was the steward of the Working Men’s Club in North Street, Havant but soon after my birth this closed and he obtained work on the concreting of the runways at the new Royal Air Force base at Thorney Island. When this was finished he was employed as a cook in the Officers’ Mess as he had been a cook in the Royal Flying Corps during the First World War. However when war broke out, the men were released and women took over. He again became unemployed as he had many times before, a not unusual experience for many. Counting all their money my parents found they had the grand total of 13 shillings and 5 pence (67p) between them. Father said they would have to apply for Public Assistance at which my mother expressed the shame she would feel when she told her mother.

Anyway, a position at the Frater Mining Depôt in Gosport was advertised for which my father was successful. He was told this was because he was the only one out of the six applicants who wore a suit to the interview.

During the late 1930s there was a lot of nervousness about what was going on in Europe. Germany had been defeated in the First World War of 1914 to 1918, dubbed ‘the war to end all wars’, and was struggling to re-establish itself as heavy compensation conditions imposed by the victorious nations made it difficult for its economy to recover. There was a large number unemployed and the value of their currency, the Reichsmark, fell so rapidly that the price of a loaf of bread could rise during the course of the day. These circumstances made it possible for Adolf Hitler, who had fought in the First World War as a corporal, to rise to power by promising to solve the nation’s problems.

Under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles, which was written on parchment reputedly made in Havant, the German government was severely restricted as to what it could do. As it was realised some of its conditions were too onerous they were gradually relaxed and in 1935 the Germans were allowed a limited amount of rearmament. This, however, they exploited to the full and began to substantially build up their military strength.

In 1936 Germany regained control of Saarland and although the Treaty forbade them joining together with Austria the rise of the Nazi Party there led to their Chancellor, Artur von Seyss-Inquart, inviting Hitler to occupy the country. This took place in March 1938 and became known as the Anschluss, Hitler’s annexation of Austria to Germany.

Hitler then demanded the return of the Sudentenland, which had been given to Czechoslovakia by the Treaty. Anxious to avoid another war the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, and others pursued a policy of appeasement and allowed this to happen. This was confirmed in the Munich Agreement, which was signed in September 1938. Chamberlain returned to the United Kingdom waving a piece of paper with his and Hitler’s signature upon it and declared that he had secured: ‘peace in our time’ and that: ‘Herr Hitler had assured him that he had no other territorial ambitions in Europe.’ However this optimism was short-lived as Hitler invaded the rest of Czechoslovakia the following March.

Hitler then demanded the return of the Sudentenland, which had been given to Czechoslovakia by the Treaty. Anxious to avoid another war the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, and others pursued a policy of appeasement and allowed this to happen. This was confirmed in the Munich Agreement, which was signed in September 1938. Chamberlain returned to the United Kingdom waving a piece of paper with his and Hitler’s signature upon it and declared that he had secured: ‘peace in our time’ and that: ‘Herr Hitler had assured him that he had no other territorial ambitions in Europe.’ However this optimism was short-lived as Hitler invaded the rest of Czechoslovakia the following March.

Still not satisfied Hitler then invaded Poland on September 1, 1939. As the United Kingdom had a pact with Poland, in which it was agreed to support them if they were invaded, an ultimatum was sent to Hitler stating that if he did not immediately withdraw his troops then we would declare war on Germany.

This he failed to do so on 3 September 1939 Neville Chamberlain broadcast the following message to the nation:

I am speaking to you from 10 Downing Street. This morning the British ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them by 11 o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.

So at the age of just over two years I was at war with Germany, and later Japan, and would be for the next six years. I cannot remember anything of this time, not even the first tragedy to strike my family. On 14 October 1939 a German submarine penetrated the supposedly safe harbour at Scapa Flow in the Orkney Islands and sank the battleship HMS Royal Oak with the loss of 834 lives including my cousin, Hubert Cousins, who was just 20 years old. I can however remember our second tragedy, which was the loss of another cousin, Leonard Harris, on 3 August 1940 when he went down in the submarine HMS Thames. He was 24 years old.

I was by now aged just over three years old and this event is the earliest I can remember, I cannot even remember the time I took the top of my finger off in my mother’s mangle, so my wartime memories start roughly from this date.

My father left home at six o’clock in the morning and travelled by train, bus, ferryboat and bus to get to Gosport. As he arrived home safely each evening I never realised the danger he and many others were in. Travelling and working in Portsmouth was dangerous as the city was a prime target. In those days bombs could not be directed accurately as they can today so they generally missed the important places and unfortunately fell on residential areas.

Portsmouth was bombed throughout the war during which time over 1,000 people were killed. The first raid took place on 11 July 1940 with the worst one taking place on 10 January 1941. Being close by we could clearly hear the sounds of the bombs exploding and the anti-aircraft (ack-ack) gunfire attempting to shoot the planes down. It is surprising we did not suffer more than we did. Anti-aircraft guns were located at gun-sites at Southleigh Farm and at North Hayling and one each at three sites in Leigh Park. For a time there was a bofors gun on the Civic Centre roundabout.

A large number of High Explosive and Incendiary bombs were dropped in the Havant area. Mary Guy and Linda Coggell were killed on 10 October 1940 when bombs, aimed at the railway, fell on their bungalow and nearby houses in Fourth Avenue. On 5 December 1940 Ethel Ripley and Violet Todd were killed when a bomb fell on their cottage in Glenleigh. On 17 April 1941, Herbert and Elizabeth Wills were killed when a bomb fell on their cottage at Helmsley House in Bartons Road. A number of other houses received direct 6 hits which resulted in some injuries and windows, ceilings and roofs were damaged by bomb blasts.

There were also many instances of strafing by machine-gun fire. On 10 October 1940 Mrs Florence Luff was killed while hanging out her washing in Hulbert Road, Bedhampton and it was said that this was the cause of the damage to the date-stone of Havant Council School, now called Fairfield Infant School.

On 10 February 1943 two bombs fell not far away from my home. One hit a house in Montgomery Road and the other one fell alongside of the railway line in what is now the playing field of Warblington School. No damage was done but a cow was killed. The crater remained for a number of years and made a useful slope on which we tobogganed when it snowed. These bombs were no doubt aimed at the railway junction and the nearby control room and signal box. Had the control room been hit there would have been considerable disruption to the electricity supply to the passenger trains, which would have had to revert to being steam hauled.

Two bombs were dropped by an enemy plane on a small town on the South Coast, but although one destroyed a large house and did considerable damage by blast to a council school, houses and shop windows, the only fatal casualty was a cow, which had been grazing in a field.

Two large splinters of the bomb were picked up in the school playground. Fortunately the pupils had left a few minutes earlier…

The small town was of course Havant. In the stop press of the same newspaper the following report appeared:

Southern England Attacks. German radio claims that German bombers attacked towns in Southern England yesterday, penetrated into the interior, and bombed factories and installations. A railway line was interrupted by a direct hit, added the radio.

It is more than likely they were referring to this raid and were reporting, falsely, that they had hit the control room, signal box or the junction. I understand the German people did not believe their own radio reports but tuned in to the BBC for more accurate information. I particularly remember these two bombs falling. When the air-raid warning siren sounded, I, being 7 one of the pupils who had just left the school, had been sitting in front of the fire painting. My mother and I ran in to our shelter, which was in the garden, and heard some of our slates falling off the roof and windows breaking. When the all clear sounded my mother looked out to see what had happened and could see smoke in the room where I had been. She rushed in to find it was burning soot, which had been shaken down the chimney. When she came back to me all I was interested in was asking: ‘is my painting all right?’ It wasn’t of course, being ruined by the soot. The air-raid siren sounded whenever enemy aircraft were spotted in the area to warn us to take cover and if possible to get in to an air-raid shelter. The note of the ‘Alert’ rose and fell to give a somewhat monotonous wailing sound. When the danger had passed a continuous note the ‘All clear’ was given out. As my mother was very deaf she relied upon me to run to her and say: ‘It’s on Mum’, whenever the siren sounded.

Most people had an air-raid shelter in their gardens. Ours was an Anderson type, named after its inventor Sir John Anderson, which was made of thick corrugated steel half sunk in to the ground with a concrete floor and sides and covered with earth. It could not withstand a direct hit but provided good protection against falling debris and flying shrapnel. Shrapnel was the name given the metal fragments coming from bombs and anti-aircraft shells and was named after the man who invented the exploding cannon ball in about 1800, Lieutenant Henry Shrapnel. There were also Morrison shelters, named after Herbert Morrison, which were placed inside the house. These were metal tables that were of sufficient strength to withstand upper floors falling on them, thus protecting anyone sheltering beneath them.

When the air raids were frequent it was more convenient to sleep in the shelters at night although they were damp and cold and had only a paraffin lamp or candles for lighting. I think children managed to sleep through all the noise but I remember a few times when I woke up asking my father if I could go outside and see what was going on. Of course he would not let me but he often went out himself, with a tin helmet on, and would come back in to tell us it was ‘All quiet’ being the usual phrase used.

Once we did go out to see a German aeroplane caught in the searchlights. These were powerful lights shining up in to the sky to catch the planes so the anti-aircraft guns could fire at them although it was always difficult to score 8 a direct hit. There was a searchlight battery in the field on the other side of the present flyover near Bosmere School.

Bombs fell where the police station now stands on what were allotments. One gardener had just planted his seed potatoes and then Jerry came along a few hours later and blew them up. He somehow saw the funny side of it and said: ‘it was the quickest time he had ever harvested his potatoes.’

I remember going down to Homewell where a falling bomb had badly damaged the backs of numbers 15, 16 and 17. A lady came out came out with a cup in her hand and said as she took a drink from the spring: ‘I have no gas or electricity but at least I have plenty of water.’ A bit of an understatement as the spring has been estimated to produce over four million litres of water per day.

On 13 June 1944 the Germans sent over the first Pilotless Aircraft Bomb, (Vergeltungswaffe-1, Retaliation Weapon-1), also called V-1 Flying Bombs or Buzz-bombs, because they buzzed like an insect, and Doodlebugs. These bombs were propelled by a rocket motor, which kept going for a preset time calculated to reach a specific target. As long as you could hear it you knew you were safe but when it stopped you had to duck as it would fall in just a few seconds. They were mostly aimed at London but many did come over Havant, I heard only one when it came directly over our house, it sounded like a noisy motorbike. I was roused from my bed and told to dress for the shelter but in the confusion I got undressed instead. Anyway the motor kept going so we were safe. We did not see any of the later V-2 rocket bombs

In 1940 our fighting troops were being slowly pushed back until they became surrounded at Dunkirk where they were in danger of being killed or captured. This desperate situation gave rise to the organisation of everything that could sail across the channel, Operation Dynamo, and rescue them. The operation was a brilliant success, for over a period of nine days, from 26 May to 4 June, nearly 340,000 British and French troops were evacuated. There was however some sadness for Havant. During the evacuation on June 1, our namesake ship the destroyer HMS Havant, made two trips bringing back nearly 2,000 troops; but on her third trip with another 1,000 troops on board she was bombed. Six crew members and a number of troops were killed but the remainder were transferred to HMS Saltash who sank her by gunfire.

Some of the troops saved at Dunkirk passed through Havant on trains heading for the west. Those who had been injured travelled in special 9 hospital trains painted white with large red crosses on them. Under the Rules of Warfare drawn up in the Geneva Convention these trains, and other such facilities, were supposed to be immune from attack.

On 4 July the Prime Minister Winston Churchill, who had replaced Neville Chamberlain, gave one of his many famous wartime speeches, which included the words:

We shall fight on the beaches; we shall fight on the landing grounds, in the fields, in the streets and in the hills. We shall never surrender!

At the same time every householder was issued with a leaflet entitled: ‘If the INVADER comes. What to do and how to do it.’ The next major event was the Battle of Britain so called after a speech by Winston Churchill in the House of Commons in which he said:

The Battle of France is now over and the Battle of Britain is about to begin.

This battle became the sustained attack launched by the German Air Force, the Luftwaffe, against the Royal Air Force and important installations with the object of overwhelming us so we would have to surrender or to make it easier for Adolf Hitler to launch his planned invasion code-named Operation Sealion. The air battle took place during the summer and autumn of 1940 mainly over south-east England. Victory in this battle was followed by another of Winston Churchill’s famous speeches, which included the memorable phrase:

… never before in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few!

As a result of the bombing of Portsmouth many barracks and other military establishments had been damaged so it was necessary to find other accommodation elsewhere. A number of camps were built in Emsworth, Hayling Island, Bedhampton and Leigh Park and most of the large houses in the area were requisitioned for the ‘Duration’ of the war.

During the war a number of special weeks were held in order to encourage Havant’s residents to save their money in various Government accounts, such as War Bonds, Savings Bonds, Defence Bonds and National Savings Certificates or to donate towards a specific objective. During ‘War Weapons Week’ in July 1941 displays were put on of all sorts of war paraphernalia. 10 One of these was held in the church hall in Market Lane, now Market Parade, where machine guns, rifles, grenades, bullets, bombs and other equipment were displayed.

For ‘Spitfire Week’ in 1941 one was parked in a field in Market Lane. I remember this well as there was a woman, dressed surprisingly to me in trousers, spraying camouflage paint on to the fuselage. As she knew my mother she let me have a go; so at the age of four years I was doing my bit to help the war effort. If a town could raise the cost of a plane, which I think was £5,000, then it would be named after it but I do not know if we were able to achieve this. Similarly, if during the ‘Warship Week’ of 1942, a certain amount was raised then a ship could be adopted and the crew supported by ‘comforts from home’. During this week a large model of a warship was placed on top of the Static Water Supply (SWS) tank, which had been erected on the large pavement area at the front of St Faith’s Church. As a result of this appeal HMS Oribi was adopted.

The static-water-supply tanks, of which there were others in Market Lane and where the East Pallant car park now is, held water for fire fighting purposes. Also in Havant Park the Lavant Stream was partly dammed so it could provide a considerable amount of water. We children liked to lift the sluice gate and see the water flow, that is until the park keeper, Albert Till, who was a volunteer fireman, spotted us and chased us off. On this occasion we were not very helpful to the war effort.

In March 1943 during a ‘Wings for Victory Week’ £192,851 was raised; enough for 11 war planes, and at other times a ‘Tanks for Attack Week’ and a ‘Salute the Soldier Week’ were held but I do not remember these. However I well remember the ‘National Savings Week’, which was held in 1944, because I had my photograph in the Evening News. This was taken at the railway station with Dick Smart of Hayling Island and his model steam traction engine, which he drove around the town as part of the promotion. We used to buy 6d (2½p) savings stamps at school and when we had a book full they were exchanged for a 15s (75p) certificate, which was redeemed with interest if kept for, I think, 10 years.

During the early part of 1944 local activity built up considerably as preparations were made for the invasion of France. More and more troops and equipment were being brought in to the area and additional camps were set up in the local woodlands, which provided good camouflage cover from any enemy reconnaissance planes that flew over. We watched tanks being driven out of the goods yard and saw convoys of lorries, tanks, Bren gun carriers, DUKWS (these were amphibious vehicles, which sailed like a boat and could be driven straight on to dry land), and large trailers called Queen Marys, which carried aeroplane wings and fuselages, passing through the town. I especially remember one convoy of tanks travelling through during the night as it woke us up. The next day we saw where they had had difficulty in steering through the bend in East Street and they had damaged the granite kerbstones. Many of these were later replaced but some remain showing where they were chipped by the tracks of the tanks as they passed.

So it was obvious something big was about to happen but we did not know exactly what. Perhaps we had a good clue when on the evening of June 5 we found a tank parked in Fairfield Road. We chatted to the crew and took them sandwiches but I do not think they knew exactly where they were going. All became clear when on 6 June, code named D-Day, we went out and found the tank had gone and heard the announcement on the radio that the invasion 12 had begun. I like to think it was this tank that left us with a permanent reminder of its brief stay by the scoring on the wall in East Pallant where its front and back tracks collided with it as it moved off. One hopes the crew survived the war but of course many did not. The names of the Havant people who were lost in the Second World War have been added to those who were lost in the First World War on the War Memorial.

At the same time heavy night time bombing raids were being carried out on Germany and we would go out and watch large flights of bombers going over and listen to the low drone of their engines and see their red navigation lights. When we read today of all that was going on both in Havant and the surrounding area, in particular in Portsmouth Harbour, and the fact that the whole operation was being directed by General Dwight D. Eisenhower (Ike) and Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery (Monty) from just up the road at Southwick House, it is difficult to realise that it was all happening here on our doorstep.

My most memorable event of the war occurred on evening of D-Day when we watched the sky filled with low flying heavy bombers towing gliders full of troops on their way to support the troops who landed in the morning. A sight which will never be seen again.

Many important people must have arrived at the railway station. I remember one day being in North Street with my mother when a man said Winston Churchill had just arrived. Two large cars passed by and my mother told me to wave but I cannot recall seeing anyone. I like to think if he was there he may have waved back to me. It was said that he and Ike had lunched at the Bear Hotel but I do not know if this is true. On 22 May 1944 King George VI reviewed the troops at Rowlands Castle and was seen in his car travelling along Bartons Road.

There was no great industry in Havant during the war but there were some local companies making important contributions to the war effort. Stent’s leather works was engaged in making flying jackets and other leather goods and the Army and Navy Hat and Cap Co. in South Street made all sorts of military caps. Small sheet metal companies at the rear of The Dolphin Hotel, where the Meridian centre now is, and at the rear of The Bear Hotel made parts for aircraft. The Airspeed Company had a factory in Langstone making wooden components for Horsa gliders and Mosquito fighter-bombers. This was situated partly in the grounds of Langstone Towers and partly on the 13 area that is now The Saltings. No doubt many of these products flew over us on 17 September. It was believed that the old Empire Cinema in North Street was used as a torpedo store, hopefully without their warheads.

When plans were being made for the invasion it was realised it would be extremely difficult to be able to capture a port in which to unload troops and supplies so it was decided two harbours would be required. These were to be built in concrete sections, towed across to the invasion area and then linked together to form the harbours. The codename for this operation was Mulberry hence they became known as Mulberry Harbours. Some of these sections were made at Hayling Island but unfortunately, or fortunately, one sank and could not be used. This one can be seen today at the ferry end of the island. Gravel taken from the pits in Southleigh Forest was used in their construction.

Toys were a luxury and we had to make do with what we could find to play with. A bent stick made a gun, shrapnel from shells and bombs was a prized possession and often we found strips of aluminium foil called window or chaff, which was dropped by enemy planes in order to confuse our radar. You can therefore imagine my delight when in about July 1944 I found a thunderflash, which had not gone off. The army used these when training to simulate hand grenades. They were like a very large banger firework. What happened next was reported in our local weekly newspaper the Havant and Emsworth County Press:

DANGEROUS CURIOSITY

What might have been a much more serious accident occurred to little Ralph M. Cousins, aged 7, son of Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Cousins, of Waterloo Road. Whilst near the Labour Exchange, he saw, and picked up, an object, which he took home. Later on he began to inspect the article, and some of the contents he placed in a tin. After throwing in a lighted match there was an explosion. Fortunately it was not a particularly heavy one, but little Ralph’s face was burnt and he had to be attended to at the first-aid post. (The attention of all is again called to warning people not to touch anything that looks suspiciously like ammunition.)

Luckily I had only put the gunpowder from the fuse in the tin, the main explosive part, which I had pulled out by my teeth, was left on the ground. 14 Apart from having a certain amount of pride at having my name in the paper I am also proud of my reaction to what I did immediately after.

At first I was too frightened to go indoors to my mother but instead ran to my school just around the corner and rubbed my face, which was stinging me, in cold wet grass. I then went home and showed my mother what I had done whereupon she took me to the First Aid Station, which was located in the St Faith’s Church Hall, where they bound me up with sticky gauze. Guess what? The recommended initial treatment for a burn today is to bathe it with cold water to reduce the shock. This I had found out quite instinctively all those years ago. When we came home my mother brought in to me the explosive part of the thunderflash, which she was holding in her hand in front of the open coal fire. I remember screaming at her to take it away. This she did and took it to the police who told her what a lucky escape I had had. Other children were not so lucky as many were killed and injured by ammunition they had found and played with as, indeed, many still are today where fighting continues in the world.

At the start of the war we imported about three-quarters of the food we required. Fearing this amount would be severely reduced by a blockade or shipping losses, food rationing was introduced in 1940 and we were all issued with ration books. These had green covers for those under five, blue for five to sixteen and buff for adults. This ensured children had extra rations. You had to register with a particular butcher or grocer and every time you bought something you had to hand over some coupons or have your book stamped. You had to be very careful to ensure your ration lasted the week. The amount of food we could buy was calculated to be enough to keep us healthy and fit for work and everyone had a fair share. Nevertheless the amounts were small compared to today’s standards and there was little variety. For instance for margarine there was just one sort, National Margarine, which was hard and not very tasty and we were only allowed 4 oz (100 grams) per week. At some times only one egg per week was allowed and 12 oz (350 grams) of sweets had to last a month, but most parents gave their ration to the children. My mother always made sure I had the butter and sugar while she had the margarine and used sweeteners in her tea; by today’s advice it should have been the other way round. At one time horse and whale meat and a tinned fish called Snook was on sale but these did not prove to be very popular. Spam and corned beef was part of your meat 15 ration. Sausages were not rationed but goodness knows what went in to them. It was said, hopefully wrongly, that some butchers put in the sawdust from their shop floors, which was put down to soak up any spilled blood. Occasionally my uncle brought us a rabbit or pigeon he had killed with his shotgun. Although they were very tasty you had to be careful not to swallow the lead pellets. However if you had the money you could always pay a high price and get extra from Under the Counter or on the Black Market. Some people, so-called Spivs did very well. During the war we were probably fitter than we are today, you certainly saw fewer overweight people.

Food did not come in the fancy wasteful packaging we see today, cheese and butter came in large blocks and your grocer became skilled in cutting off your ration or weighing out just a small amount. Sugar came loose and was put into a cone of blue paper, which was fascinating to watch being made. Meat was totally unwrapped and certainly there was no Best Before or Sell By dates on it. You relied on your senses of sight, smell and taste and if it seemed all right you ate it. A deposit was paid on bottles, which was returned when you took the empty back. You got three- farthings (¾d) for each jam jar the buying power of which in 1945 would be about 10p today. Not much but useful pocket money. Also as you did not have a refrigerator or freezer you had to do your shopping nearly every day. Petrol was severely rationed and petrol coupons were only given out for essential use, which meant many private cars were laid up for the whole period of the war.

With food rationing you were very conscious not to waste anything. This discipline remains with me today as my grand children will testify as I eat up anything they have left. Any unavoidable scraps were fed to the cat or other animals; no special food for them. Collecting food waste today is thought to be a modern idea but a man used to come round with a van to collect it then for feeding to his pigs. The Government slogan of ‘Waste not. Want not’ is just as relevant today. Rationing for all food did not finally end until 4 July 1954 as it was still in short supply. Strangely bread was not rationed during the war but was after.

Another slogan was ‘Make Do and Mend’; we could not afford to be a throwaway society. Nobody laughed at you if you went out with patches on the seat of your trousers because they had worn through and it certainly was a case of ‘A Stitch in Time Saves Nine’. Holes in pots and pans were fixed with a pot mender, which was a pair of washers secured by a screw and nut.

Clothes and furniture were also rationed. The Civilian Clothing Act was passed in 1941 and in 1942 Government set up the Utility Scheme to ration materials and regulate the production of civilian clothing during the war. Utility-made clothes carried a label reading CC41 (Civilian Clothing 1941). The scheme was later applied to furniture and other goods as well. Utility meant items were functional rather than attractive, similar to austerity. Ladies skirts were made without pleats and men’s trousers did not have turn ups. Boys’ trousers were short, resulting in chapped legs in wintertime. Pencils were not painted but just plain wood. I still have a utility oak and beech coffee table, which is as solid today as when it was made. Parachutes were made of silk and many a used one was converted in to underwear or even a wedding dress. Extra coupons were made available to newlyweds or to those who had been bombed out. The scheme ended in 1952.

In order to help combat the food shortages a ‘Dig for Victory’ campaign was introduced to encourage us to grow as many vegetables as we could ourselves. This campaign was inspired by a speech broadcast by the Minister for Agriculture, Sir Reginald Dorman-Smith, who was the Member of Parliament for Petersfield, on October 3, 1939 in which he said:

Half a million more allotments properly worked will provide potatoes and vegetables that will feed another million adults and one and a half million children for eight months out of twelve … So, let’s get going. Let ‘Dig for Victory’ be the motto of everyone with a garden and of every able-bodied man and woman capable of digging an allotment in their spare time.

All spare land was turned into allotments and many people kept chickens, rabbits and pigs.

To make sure everyone was sufficiently fed Community Feeding Centres later called British Restaurants were set up by the Ministry of Food and run by local committees on a non-profit making basis. The meal sizes were strictly controlled and cost about 9d, (just under 4p). Havant’s was in two Nissen huts, named after their inventor Lieutenant George Nissen, in Park Way close to where, perhaps appropriately, the Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant now stands. It continued in use after the war and when the original Bosmere School was built it did not have a kitchen so children had to go there for their lunches.

A number of organisations were set up or were in being in order to keep control of the area and to assist in times of emergency. These all came under the general heading of Civil Defence and included the Police, Fire Service, Ambulance Service, Red Cross, St John’s Ambulance Brigade, Women’s Voluntary Service, Home Guard, ARP (Air Raid Precautions) Wardens and the Havant and Waterloo Urban District Council. The police of course continued in their role of keeping law and order.

As we had a spare room we took in lodgers, I am not sure if we had to or not but in any case they provided a useful source of extra income. Many times we had couples stay before the man was going off to fight. Mother was often concerned as to whether or not they were married, but given the circumstances did not question too deeply. I know of at least one soldier who spent his last days in England in my bed. Walter Padley, who was to become the Member of Parliament for Ogmore, also stayed. Every so often the police came to check mother’s records but on one occasion they came to arrest a woman who had been shoplifting; she was taken off wearing some of my mother’s precious underwear she had also stolen.

Before the war the fire engine was operated by the council and manned by volunteers, at the outbreak of war the Auxiliary Fire Service was formed as well. In 1941 the two were combined to form the National Fire Service. They were kept busy with the places which were bombed but I do not think we had any major fires but they were often sent to Portsmouth and Southampton. A friend of mine, who having been away for three nights in Southampton, when asked by his wife: ‘where do you think you have been?’ replied exasperatedly: ‘on a ruddy picnic’. Some picnic.

The Women’s Voluntary Service proved a valuable support service in many roles. In times of bombing they provided drink and food to those fighting the fires and to people made homeless. They helped in areas where children had been evacuated and ran clothing and bedding banks. Their base was a house in Fairfield Terrace and was there that we went to collect our orange juice and cod liver oil. These were provided for young children in order to make sure that we received our essential vitamins. The cod-liver oil was not very popular and was later replaced by a thick brown mixture of malt and cod-liver oil, which was spooned from a jar. My mother also made sure that I had my weekly dose of Syrup of Figs to keep me regular.

At first there was only one ambulance, which was driven by Harry Beach who when on standby kept it at his home in New Road, Bedhampton. His son, Henry, was the schoolboy friend of my cousin Leonard Harris who lived a few doors from him. They both signed up for the submarine service and later served together and were both lost on the submarine Thames. So there they are, still together, lying somewhere at the bottom of the North Sea.

A lady donated her Bentley motorcar for conversion for use as an ambulance. At the end of the war it was converted back and is, I believe, now in Australia.

The Red Cross detachment ran the First Aid post, which had been set up in the St Faith’s Church hall. They were a large group and must have had many injured to deal with including of course myself.

One of the first jobs undertaken by the council employees was to take down all of the road direction signs in order to confuse the enemy if they landed, but as they never did the only ones confused were us. In May 1940 an Order was made that required all iron railings to be collected so that they could be melted down for the war effort. Similarly aluminium saucepans were collected for turning in to parts for aeroplanes. However it is now thought that most of the material collected was not suitable and was dumped in the Thames Estuary. The council also helped local builders to clear up and repair bomb damage. One of their lorries was adapted to spray down buildings with water in the event of a gas attack.

Under the National Service (Armed Forces) Act of 1939 all males between the ages of 18 and 41 were called up for military service unless they were in a reserved occupation, this being an occupation that was deemed to be essential for the war effort and in 1941 the age was raised to 51. On May 14, 1940 the government broadcast an appeal asking for volunteers to form Local Defence Volunteer (LDV) forces. On August 23, 1940 their name was changed to Home Guard, now known irreverently as Dads’ Army. Single women between the ages of 20 and 30 were also called up and many others volunteered for the Women’s Land Army. During the war the Ministry of Labour and National Service called unskilled women, who could be directed to work anywhere ‘Green, Mobile Females’: what an insult to womanhood!

The Home Guard was formed when there was a real risk of an enemy invasion with the intention of their being able to delay the enemy for as long as possible to give the regular army time to form a front line from which the 19 invasion could be repelled. Initially these men were expected to fight crack German troops with nothing more than a collection of shotguns, air rifles, old hunting rifles, knives and pieces of gas pipe with bayonets welded on to their ends! They were later supplied with more up to date special weapons.

They were regularly seen training and marching around the town but they were never called in to action. They were stood down on December 3, 1944 and disbanded on 31 December 1945. I also remember a military band marching around the town.

The Air Raid Precaution (ARP) organisation was set up in 1924 after concerns expressed over the dangers to the civilian population that might be caused by air raids. During the First World War bombs dropped from Zeppelin airships had killed some 1,000 people. One flew over Havant. In April 1937 the government decided to create the Air Raid Precautions Wardens’ Service to be manned by volunteers. During the war they had a number of duties to perform which included the following:

• Ensuring the blackout was observed by patrolling the streets. If a light were spotted they would shout out something like: ‘Put that light out!’ or ‘Cover that window!’ At the start of the war a complete blackout had been imposed, all of the streetlights were turned off and windows had to be covered with a black material in addition to their curtains. However due to the large number of accidents that occurred masked torches and headlights were later permitted.

• Sounding air raid sirens and ensuring people outside went into public air-raid shelters in an orderly fashion. There were a number of large shelters in the park.

• Checking gas masks. Gas had been used extensively in the First World War and it was feared we would be attacked by gas. By 1940 everyone had been issued with a gas mask. The one for babies was like an incubator in which they were totally enclosed. Young children had a coloured one nicknamed Mickey Mouse, (actually they did not look like Mickey Mouse but were so called after the American model that did have a Mickey Mouse face on them) that had a beak to make them more acceptable to wear and adults had black ones. In fact when you put them on it was difficult to breathe, as you had to suck the air through a filter. Fortunately we never had to use them but they 20 were supposed to be carried at all times. If you lost one a replacement had to be paid for.

• Evacuating areas around unexploded bombs as well as helping to evacuate casualties from bomb damaged properties.

• Finding accommodation for people who had been bombed out.

• Judging the extent and type of damage and informing the Control Centre to send out the rescue services.

• Putting out small incendiary fires.

In some areas where telephone communication was poor Fire Guard Messengers were appointed. These were children volunteers aged between 14 and 18 who acted as messengers or runners who would be expected run or cycle through the night raids ferrying messages between Air Raid Wardens and the fire department units and also to supply incendiary volunteers with their buckets of sand.

Arthur Herbert Jones, who was private secretary to Sir Dymoke White Bt., the local Member of Parliament, was one of the first to volunteer to join the ARP service as a volunteer warden in October 1938. He recorded his experiences during the war and published them in a book entitled Front-Line Havant 1939–45. As his record is obviously better than my memories I trust he would not have minded my quoting extracts from it and using his diary as a basis for giving a more comprehensive picture of wartime time Havant. He wrote as follows:

When in late August 1939 war seemed inevitable we were supplied with navy blue battle dress style uniforms, including heavy boots, (which I later found excellent for gardening) a tin hat, metal badge, stirrup pump for dealing with incendiaries, a whistle and a large wooden rattle for giving warning of gas attack.

I was amazed by the speed with which the area was being prepared for resistance to invasion. Concrete bunkers at strategic points in the road system seemed, like mushrooms, to have sprung up overnight. For example, three large ones were built within 100 yards (95 metres) of my office in the grounds of Southleigh Park House, two at the junction of Horndean Road with Emsworth Common Road, one is still there, and another in Bartons Road in what are now the grounds of the Spire Hospital, opposite the 21 junction of that road with Eastleigh Road. Each had slits for machine guns and rifles covering all approaches.

The defence works which brought home to me most impressively the full horror of what conditions might be like if the invader came, were two hide-outs for guerrillas, deep in the estate owned Southleigh Forest. Constructed secretly, they were two holes about 6 feet (2 metres) deep, with boarded walls and a metal roof, which was covered with soil to a depth of not less than 6 inches (15 cm), and a ventilator shaft opening in undergrowth a yard (metre) or so away, all so effectively concealed that one could walk over them without knowing they were there. Each was designed to hold about six men.

My first encounter with an enemy aircraft was in early August 1940. Alone in my Connaught Road home one evening (my wife and children had gone to stay with friends in a less dangerous part of the country), I became aware of the slow approach of an aeroplane, obviously flying low. There had been no alert but the engine noise was somehow different from that made by British planes. There, coming towards me over the Brighton to Portsmouth railway line, was a large plane, yellowish-brown in colour, with the German cross distinct on its fuselage. As I looked at it, almost in disbelief, I realised that the sharp rattling sounds which came from it intermittently, were bursts of machine-gun fire aimed, it seemed, at whatever took the gunner’s fancy. I dashed indoors out of sight.

Soon afterwards, there were two more low-flying daylight raids affecting the Eastern end of Havant. The first, I believe, was intended for the railway [electricity] control room. It was by a single plane flying at rooftop height above the railway line from Rowlands Castle. It dropped some bombs a few metres from the railway tracks at Denvilles. One demolished a bungalow killing the two ladies living there, and one landed in my friend’s lawn not far away but did not explode. Others caused considerable damage to nearby properties.

The other raid which took place about the same time was a machine-gun strafing run. Again in the early evening, two fighters flew very low over the railway line from Rowlands Castle, machine-guns blazing. They roared at treetop height overhead. A minute or so later they came back, possibly for a second attack, but one was brought down and fell in a field at Stansted Park Home Farm, Rowlands Castle, and the pilot killed.

I lived in the northerly of the two brick and flint cottages that stand near to the Bartons Road railway bridge. On an early evening in, I think December 1941, an alert, followed quickly by a plane that I was sure was an enemy one, flew backwards and forwards, east-west, low and slow overhead, untroubled by anti-aircraft fire. I waited to discover what it was up to. I had not long to wait. A curious whooshing sound was followed by what seemed like hundreds of incendiary bombs, most of which penetrated the soft, mid-winter fields around me to a depth of several centimetres, where they blazed magnificently and did no damage, though I believe some landed in the grounds of West Leigh House.

About a week before Christmas 1941 the noise of aircraft engines low overhead caused me to don my warden’s tunic and tin hat and go outside. I realised that they were Beaufort bombers from nearby Thorney Island making as they often did, a circuit or two, before flying off on their mission. There were three of them. Two flew off but the third seemed to be in trouble: the engine noise was irregular. Suddenly it crashed and burst into flames. I was standing on the railway bridge, about 300 metres away, and got there, running, at about the same time as the RAF Commander from Thorney, who had seen the crash from the airfield and got there by car. The field around me was strewn with pieces of paper, some charred. The Commander told me that it was carrying Christmas mail for the troops, army and naval, at Malta. The junction of Forestside Avenue with Whitsbury Road marks the spot where it crashed.

Another incident I recall was being awakened before dawn by a man shouting. I went to the bedroom window and listened but failed to discern the exact direction from which the shouts were coming from or what was being said, and so went back to bed, assuming it was a railwayman shouting to his mates. Next day I was told they had come from a German airman who had parachuted out of his disabled plane. [I often said to my parents: ‘careful what you are saying there might be a German outside.’ No doubt inspired to do so by the slogan: ‘Careless Talk Costs Lives.’]

On the evening of April 17, 1941 when it was it was still not quite dark I was trying to make out an enemy plane, which was flying low and relatively slowly to the North of Havant, as if looking for a special target. As my eyes followed the engine noise I saw a huge orange flash, followed almost instantly by another. I realised that the first was near to the Bartons Road 23 railway bridge and the second very close by. Next day I saw that I had been right. Two land mines had come down; the first had fallen on to the small paddock in front of the cottage that we had recently left, midway between the railway line (and the bridge) and the cottage, that is about 20 metres from each, causing a huge crater. Inside I found that the front room facing the blast, had its windows blown out and splinters of glass were buried deep in to the thick plaster on the old walls. Anyone in it could not have survived. The second mine fell near a cottage in the grounds of Helmsley House, Bartons Road, killing Herbert and Elizabeth Wills.

On the area now occupied by Greville Green a camp for Free French sailors was set up its entrance being from Allendale Avenue. [The camp was called Bir Hakeim Barracks after a remote desert oasis in Libya, which was the scene of a famous battle between Erwin Rommel and Free French forces.] Shortly before D-Day General de Gaulle, it was whispered, had visited the camp. All very secret. [I remember a group of these sailors at Havant station offering us sandwiches, which we did not accept as we were not hungry.]

Just before D-Day, to avoid delays in case vehicles broke down, lay-bys had been constructed, strong enough to carry tanks, one on the garden of Eastleigh House in Bartons Road, one on the west side of Horndean Road and one on the west side of East Leigh Road. The latter two are still there.