Memories of the War

London bomb damage 

I grew up in England just after the Second World War so whilst I never experienced the War first hand, it cast a long shadow over my childhood. My mother was quite a raconteur even though she never wrote stories down. My childhood years were peppered with tales of family life on the home front. At first both my father’s and mother’s families lived in Woolwich in London, opposite the docks. Every night they watched the heavy bombing and prayed that no stray bombs fell on their homes over the river. Of course they did and most homes were damaged. So later my father’s family moved out into Essex away from the blitz but nevertheless affected by the German air raids on a large RAF airfield nearby.

No one was called up for military service, my father was declared medically unfit but he was appointed a fire warden, an important night-time duty during the bombardment of Hitler’s planes. My aunts also told us stories of life in London during the War. One aunt described how she was waiting for a bus to return home when an air raid started. Rather than go to the shelter, she continued to hope the bus would arrive. It eventually did and as she climbed aboard and the bus pulled away, a bomb landed on the bus stop. She had missed death by seconds.

My mother’s stories of rationing, bombs and doodlebugs were as much part of my childhood as the bombed out buildings that stood for years as testament to the War.  

Our childhood films were often wartime stories with heroic Englishmen fighting the evil Nazis and their wicked plans to defeat the Allies in order to take over the world.  Sink the Bismarck, Dam Busters, Reach for the Sky, 633 squadron, Bridge over the River Kwai -  all stories of great heroism and bravery by British military personnel.

It was years before the true facts about some of these events became known and though they might have shown that the Dam Busters’ raid was not quite as successful as at first thought, nothing can undermine the genius of Dr Barnes Wallis and his bouncing bomb.

It was many, many years later before war was shown in all its brutality and horror. 1950’s and 60’s film audiences were not able to stomach the gruesome cruelty and viciousness of the Japanese Army or the SS and Gestapo which so many Allied forces had to face and overcome.

Children in Britain were largely sheltered after the War from the horrors of life in concentration camps and under Japanese domination that were discovered by the Allies and Russians as they marched across Europe and the Far East. Life in England may have been rationed and cheerless in those post war years with food and coal in even greater shortage than during the War, but the chaos of post war Europe with many cities bombed beyond recognition and the huge volume of displaced people was largely unknown on these isles.

However the War years were a vital part of my growing up even if it was second hand. From this came the seeds of Nick North: Cross Wires which took events in Second World War Europe and wove a story around them.

Here is an excerpt from Nick North: Cross Wires

‘The funny thing is, Nick. I was wondering about my family. After Leone found out about hers.’ 

Gran was bustling around getting some food ready. She opened the fridge and cupboard and started assembling her ingredients and chopping vegetables and chicken to make a curry.

‘My grandmother mostly brought Susan and I up. I was never quite sure why. My mother had bad nerves – well that’s what they called it in those days. She was French you know?’

‘Who was?’ Nick asked.

‘My grandmother. Her parents married after the First World War. He was a British soldier in France. Met her and they married and lived over there.’

Nick looked at Gran whilst continuing to tap into his phone. He yawned.

‘Of course, she taught Susan and I French. Well she spoke to us in French a lot. I used to be quite fluent.’

‘What?’ Nick stared at Gran wide-eyed. His fingers were motionless now. ‘You mean you can speak French? You never told me!’

‘What difference does it make?’

‘I could do with some help. I’m rubbish at French.’

Nick heard his mother’s laugh in the hallway. She came into the room, rubbing her hands.

‘Ooh. It’s lovely and warm in here. It’s freezing outside.’

‘I suppose your French is good as well.’ Nick’s voice oozed sarcasm.

‘Well it’s not bad. I did A-level French.’

‘What! Anything else you’d like to tell me? Any other family secrets?’