|
However, in 1939, an infamous day arrived which changed all our lives. I remember that day vividly. We were sitting together, Mam, Malcolm and me, enjoying afternoon tea, when Mam casually reached for the South Wales Cardiff Echo, the evening paper. But instead of her usual glance at the top of the front page, and then into the obituary columns, she slowly lowered the paper and exclaimed, "There! We are at war! Now it's official. It's in print." I thought for a moment what it could mean, and in my ignorance asked, "Oh good! Will their aeroplanes come over here then, Mam?" "Don't you understand? We are at war, with Germany!" She handed me the newspaper, tapping the cartoon by J. C. Walker with her index finger. I vaguely remember that the artist had drawn a row of soldiers with rifles over their shoulders. They were German or Polish, and their military helmets looked strange. In the days that followed we were preoccupied with drawing sketches of ships, aircraft, and tanks in battle. After school, in the early days of the war, we listened to grown-ups elaborating about the trenches, the Kaiser of World War I, of how much worse it was going to be for us all this time, and the kind of fool Prime Minister Chamberlain was, waving a piece of paper with Hitler's promise of peace written on it. Later on, everyone was preoccupied with blackout blinds, food and furniture coupons, gas masks, the shouts of air raid wardens after dark, the fire service and their dummy-runs. Dad was a member of the Auxiliary Fire Service, with their triple extension ladders, hoses, uniforms with silver buttons, and a hatchet. And even though there were no bombs dropped or house fires anywhere in our area throughout the war, he loved it. The news reports were our greatest enemy, and the fear Lord Haw Haw conjured up in us.
One
of our school teachers was a conscientious objector. For his beliefs he was
gossiped about and harassed by 'peace-lovers'
- 12 - |
.