Memories

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=100 BGCOLOR="#33CC66" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="1ca0b641dkelql.png"> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="genbranchlines"><U><IMG SRC="136691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A><A HREF="id17.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="About Me My Family"><U><IMG SRC="137691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A><A HREF="http://www.genealogicalbranchlines.com/photos" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.genealogicalbranchlines.com/p"><U><IMG SRC="139691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A><A HREF="http://www.genealogicalbranchlines.com/timelines" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.genealogicalbranchlines.com/t"><U><IMG SRC="138691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A><A HREF="id22.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Research Notes"><U><IMG SRC="13a691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A><A HREF="id28.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="My Interpretations of Parish Records"><U><IMG SRC="13b691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A><A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Links to Other Sites"><U><IMG SRC="13c691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A><IMG SRC="13d691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"><A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="What others have said"><U><IMG SRC="13e691a0.png" border=0 width="105" height="26" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=180 BGCOLOR="#CCFFCC" TEXT="#080000"> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id19_m.htm#can_t_stop" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="Memories"><U><IMG SRC="13fa0300.png" border=0 width="160" height="48" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id19_m.htm#lucky" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="Memories"><U><IMG SRC="140a0190.png" border=0 width="160" height="25" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id19_m.htm#stay_alive" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="Memories"><U><IMG SRC="141a0300.png" border=0 width="160" height="48" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id19_m.htm#watching" TARGET="TRLX_Middle" TITLE="Memories"><U><IMG SRC="142a0300.png" border=0 width="160" height="48" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></div> </td> <td valign="top" height=380 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <bR> <div> <IMG SRC="1ce58320.png" border=0 width="600" height="50" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></div> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="688" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="VOID" RULES="NONE" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 432 WIDTH="684"><div> <I><B><IMG SRC="1da58230.png" border=0 width="600" height="35" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"><IMG SRC="1db58230.png" border=0 width="600" height="35" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"> </B></I><I><B> <A NAME="stay_alive"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B></I></div> <div> One of my earliest memories in life was the daily wailing of the Air Raid Sirens, as they announced imminent danger approaching. The speed in which everyone sought shelter from the possible raining terror of falling bombs.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> But we did some daft things! I often asked myself “Why did my parents put my brother and I under the stairs?” Yes, I know the theory. The stairs were supposed to protect us from falling masonry if the house was hit. But did they not consider that equally, we could have been gassed! The pillow that I had to lay my head on, was placed right next to a large gas meter. If Hitler's mob didn't get me, the Gas Company could.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> If we were at school, we had to stop what we were doing, walk swiftly from our classrooms; out of the building; across the sandpit of a playground with all the dog's mess in it, until we reached the shelter allocated for our class. There we sat on wooden benches along the two sides of the concrete construction, until the teacher said we could leave once the All Clear Siren sounded.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> What did we do you ask? Some cried, I was only 5 years old when I first entered the school shelter, Some shouted defiance at the approaching enemy! Others just took it all in their strides. Lessons were suspended as the teacher started to tell us a story, or maybe encourage us to sing songs like <I>Ten Green Bottles </I>or<I> Run Rabbit Run.</I><FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> Occasionally, the air raid went on beyond the school time, so we had to wait behind if one of our family had to come to collect us. Remember, we hardly saw cars in the early 1940s, so unless we could catch a bus, we had to walk everywhere.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> One of the things we used to enjoy doing when we left the air raid shelter, was to look for shrapnel in the play ground. No bombs had dropped but as our Guns fire at the enemy planes as they flew overhead, the shells exploded into small pieced, most of which fell to earth. Whilst walking home one day just after an air raid, I remember passing a row of shops near to the school. Almost every window was broken and a big burley policeman stood there telling people to keep clear and not to touch any of the stock that had spilt out onto the pavement.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#FF00FF" FACE="Webdings" ></FONT></div> <bR> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <div> <TABLE BORDER="0" CELLPADDING="1" CELLSPACING="1" WIDTH="688" BORDERCOLORLIGHT="#C0C0C0" BORDERCOLORDARK="#808080" FRAME="VOID" RULES="NONE" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" > <tR> <tD VALIGN=TOP HEIGHT= 1168 WIDTH="684"><div> <B><IMG SRC="1dc58230.png" border=0 width="600" height="35" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B><B> <A NAME="watching"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B></div> <div> At the outbreak of war, my father was a part-time fireman in the Auxiliary Fire Service.  He had been a part-time fireman for a number of years, so that was what he continued to do ... for a year or so, anyway.  Towards the end of the war, he was called up and sent to London, to help clear up the ruins caused by the Blitz.  We only saw him when he came home at weekends.</div> <bR> <div> For several days we had watched as troops were being transported somewhere, we knew not where.  So, unless my father was on holiday which was very doubtful, it must have been a weekend when he called my brother and I.  We went out into the front garden.  Suddenly a large aircraft could be heard with it's engines droning loudly as it flew overhead towing one of the many gliders, as they headed for France.  It frightened me at first as I hadn't expected to witness such a spectacle.  Plane after plane droned by with their gliders full of men and equipment for ... how long?  It must have been about half-an-hour. Then as suddenly as it started, it was no more ... Silence.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#FF00FF" FACE="Webdings" ></FONT></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <B><IMG SRC="1dd58230.png" border=0 width="600" height="35" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B><B> <A NAME="lucky"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B></div> <div> Night after night we heard the Air Raid Siren as it wailed its message of imminent danger approaching.  My father was the driver of a Fire Engine which was parked overnight in the cul-de-sac which was almost opposite our house.  The rest of the crew lived in houses in the same road as us, so when the alarm went, my father had to run for the engine - half dressed - and slowly drive along the road, picking up members of the crew as he did so.  Then off they sped to where the fire was.  How they knew that I cannot tell you.  Probably one of the crew had a telephone and was told just prior to his joining the rest of the men.</div> <bR> <div> For some time it had been thought that the Luftwaffe would come over, looking for a large area of water known as Frensham Pond … then taking a baring from that, fly out over London, dropping their bombs on their way back to Germany.  Ah!  But this night and many others afterwards, they couldn't find the pond.  It just wasn't there!  And so, they jettisoned their bombs, one of which had a lucky hit on an ammunition dump at Tongham.  So that was where my father and the crew were off to that night.</div> <bR> <div> After the war, my father told me what had happened.  It would seem that the authorities had got wind of the way that the Luftwaffe were first looking for Frensham Pond, so the Auxiliary Fire Service along with members of other groups, had the job of draining the pond and camouflaging it, so no one knew where it was.  I understand that even trees were planted in it.  I don't know how large the pond actually was, but I'm led to believe that it may have been over a mile wide.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#FF00FF" FACE="Webdings" ></FONT></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B><IMG SRC="1de58230.png" border=0 width="600" height="35" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"><IMG SRC="1df58230.png" border=0 width="600" height="35" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"> </B></I><I><B> <A NAME="can_t_stop"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></B></I></div> <div> By now we had spent over a year in Africa. Nine months in Ghana, and three months in Nigeria where we were supposed to learning how to live in an African village, miles from anywhere. It seemed strange to us, as by that time we had already spent three to four months in Ghana, and we were based on the outskirts of the main town in the northern region of the country.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> By this time, Margaret was pregnant with our third child and our second one, Timothy, was not yet a year old. It was decided that we should have our annual holiday at the Presbyterian Hospital and Rest House at Agogo which was a long way south of us, about 200-250 miles in fact.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> The day came and we were all packed up ready to go. About 5:30 am we set off from Tamale in our VW estate car to catch the first ferry across the Volta river. We had an hour to drive the 36 miles along the dirt road as it was then, that led south. We were doing well. Very well in fact with speeds of about 70 mph at times! All of a sudden, there came a THUD! Clutch hard down, I quickly put the gears into neutral we coasted to a stop.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> Did I mention that we had covered about 30 miles and that there were no towns or villages anywhere in the vicinity? A few cars passed us on their way to the ferry. A bus stopped and a mechanic got off to try and help us. It was now 6:30 and the mechanic pronounced that the car was dead. An exhaust valve had broken off and smashed through the piston head. He was sorry, he couldn't help us and had to continue his journey on the next available transport to pass by. The first transport going in the opposite direction would not pass the spot until about 10:30 a.m. We waited.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> Sure enough. About 10:30 am, cars and lorries started to trickle past us heading north. We had decided that I should take our eldest son and return to our friends and colleagues in Tamale, leaving Margaret and Timothy to look after the car. Me managed to flag down a bus and were soon on our way back.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> When Matthew and I arrived at Tamale, our colleagues soon rallied around. After a bite to eat and a short discussion, two vehicles were soon despatched with me onboard one of them. I left Matthew with his friends and their mother.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> Eventually we arrive back at the car. Margaret and Tim were hustled into the saloon car and they sped off on their journey home. The other vehicle was a pickup. We transferred all our possessions into the back of it; turned my car round so that it pointed in the right direction, and tied a long rope between them. There was approximately two to three car lengths or more between us as we set off. I think this was the easiest tow I have ever experienced. Except that is…<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> <I><B>A Police Barrier</B></I> </div> <div> In those days, there were Police Barriers on all the major roads in the country. They were manned by two policeman whose job it was to stop any suspicious vehicle travelling along that route and check the credentials of all the occupants. Oh. And if the police had trouble, there were also two armed soldiers there as well, to back them up.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> No prizes for guessing what happened next. Yes, you guest it. The policeman waved my colleague on, then stood in front of me with his hand extended in order to stop me. Urgently I gestured for him to get out of my way and putting my hand on the horn. I gestured again and at the very last moment he dived to one side. My hands left the wheel as I waved them in the air. Looking in my mirror I saw the other policeman and the two soldiers in fits of laughter as we continued on our journey.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <bR> <div> We had some lovely friends. They all rallied round and even paid for us to fly most of the way to the Presbyterian Rest House for our holiday. Whilst we were away, they arranged for the engine of our car to be rebuilt.<FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#FF00FF" FACE="Webdings" ></FONT></div> </tD> </tR> </TABLE></div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>