in November
1938, and some Germans, probably in fear of their lives, had watched while their neighbours were beaten up. Kristallnacht must have convinced most people that this was some evil force that had got out of hand and become very dangerous. Not my dad.
A scrupulously honest, loyal and compassionate man, maybe he just didn’t believe it could be true. When Hitler entered Prague
in March he did nothing. Only when they invaded Poland and Russia in September did he dig a hole in the garden. Too late to
get the corrugated iron panels to complete an Anderson shelter, he managed to acquire some railway sleepers to cover the hole.
On 3 September 1939 we gathered round our wireless to hear Chamberlain’s weary admission that in response to his ultimatum
that Hitler should retreat from Poland, ‘No such undertaking has been received. Therefore this country is at war with Germany.’
Immediately after the broadcast the heart-sinking, swooping howl of the siren warned of an air-raid. Panic. My father frantically
pushed myself, Billie and Mummy down the garden and ordered us to sit in the wet hole while he single-handedly dragged the
final railway sleepers across. He then, in a frenzy, shovelled earth on top. The stones rained in on us in the darkness and
for the first time in my life I saw my mother nakedly weeping. ‘Not again. Oh Christ, not again.’
Mass evacuation started. There was the possibility of us going to America, but when Dad heard that the little Princesses were
staying put in London he decided so would my sister and I. My father was put on secret work for Vickers and joined the ARP,
whilst my mother continued to work at the shop. Business as usual. Even the local police station had a notice saying ‘Stay
good. We’re still open.’ Blackout went up in all the windows and the world went dark. ‘Put that light out,’ shouted my dad
in the street. Slogans like ‘Keep it dark. Careless talk costs lives’, ‘Dig for victory’, ‘Be like Dad. Keep Mum’ (excuse
me?) and ‘Is your journey really necessary?’ became common currency. The Germans, and later the Japs, became objects of our
ridicule. ‘We’ll get the Hun on the run’ and jokes about Hitler’s one ball were rife, even among us kids. Humour was our only
weapon against an all-powerful enemy. That and Churchill.
10 February
The Tories have taken to standing Hague on a soapbox and letting him loose amongst the people. Only trouble is, in the newspaper photos, the people listening look bemused and bored.
In contrast to our ribaldry, Winnie’s rhetoric was superb. We all crowded round our wirelesses when he was on. ‘I have nothing
to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.’ I found him much more exciting than Laurence Olivier or James Mason. He was the
best actor of the lot, sounding as if he really believed what he said. His gift for oratory got us through that well-nigh
hopeless situation. I saw how my parents perked up and set their jaws after he spoke. ‘Let us therefore brace ourselves to
our duty, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Commonwealth and its Empire lasts for a thousand years, men will still
say, “This was their finest hour.”’ The British Empire has not lasted a thousand years, and as the people who experienced
the war die off, few recall how fine was the hour, but young as I was, I do.
When the Battle of Britain started we were situated in Bomb Alley between Woolwich Arsenal, Vickers and the City and docks.
We were the defence area. Down our road were black cylinders that produced a smoke screen, on the waste land behind our garden
were a mobile searchlight and an ack-ack gun that split your eardrums. Above in the sky were hundreds of barrage balloons
into which the more dimwitted Germans were meant to collide, I suppose. Concrete blocks appeared across the roads confidently
intended to stop the German tanks.
My sister, mother and I slept every night on