Living Through a War

By John Phipps

This is the true story of a family in World War 2, seen through the eyes of a boy who was just six and a half years old at the outbreak of war.
It is an amusing and sometimes poignant story recounting the actual experiences of the author as he grew up with the constant threat of bombing,evacuation and possible sudden death,to the ultimate joy of seeing his family coming through the war relatively unscathed.
The text reflects the difference in attitude of a youngster who initially thinks that the war is great fun, to the realisation that it is deadly and serious, changing all peoples lives forever.
All of the events that are described actually happened, including historic events and campaigns of the second world war which the author has memory of, with actual dates and details added from his research.
They kept calm and carried on!

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Phipps
• Release date: Feb 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466130166

John Phipps

John is a retired Sales Engineer.After a Grammar school education started work in an accounts office of a major London company.Did National Service in the RAF for two years as an Instrument Mechanic.Subsequently became an Aircraft Fitter, then a draughtsman with several Aviation and Instrument companies.Then working in the Industrial Control and Instrumentation Industry as A Technical Sales Engineer,and finally Sales Manager and Director.Other interests: Theatre, Golf and Modern History.John loves writing, and has had many articles published in different media. He started his first novel novel, 'THE MALTA ENIGMA' a few years ago, but like a lot of writers, shelved it for a few years owing to being involve in other projects.In the meantime, having been asked by younger relatives about his experiences in WW2, he wrote and published his first book, 'LIVING THROUGH A WAR' which was so successful, he was spurred on to complete the novel. The rest is history, as they say!'THE MALTA ENIGMA' was published July 2013, this being his first venture into fiction.It is an exciting detective mystery story, set in the beautiful island of Malta. It has pace and intrigue, as the protagonists uncover historic events and crimes dating back to World War Two Malta, and the Island's struggle for survival against the Nazi threat.The story also has a strong love interest as the chief character falls for a woman who has returned to the island to discover her ancestry.John's latest book 'PROTECTING PINS and PASSWORDS' is a simple guide to on-line security for home users.Other projects that John is working on include a book for young people aged 8- 18, which will hopefully become a series,and several ideas for semi-fictional war stories.Another new book 'SAM'S MAGIC SURFBOARD' published on Smashwords today, 2nd June 2016A book for younger readers and those not so young who enjoy an easy read and an interesting adventure story.Sam Brown discovers surfing in the \West Country while holidaying with his parents.He soon becomes an expert surfer with the help of a mystical Hawaiian recluse who takes him under his wing, imparting the secrets and magic of ancient Hawaiian customs and religion.

Book preview

Living Through a War

A lighter look at WW2

By John Phipps

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 John Phipps

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Contents

Introduction

Forward

The Eve of War

September 3rd 1939

The Phoney War

January 1940

June 4th 1940

Christmas 1940

January 1941

June1941

January 1942

January 1943

January 1944

January 1945

Postscript

Living Though a War

Introduction

I want to dedicate this book to my family and friends past and present, and to Jane Childs, my dear Partner, and her family, who have put up with my previous random ramblings about WW2.

To the memory of my Parents:-

Victor Leonard Phipps & Ellen Louisa Phipps ( Nee Cole)

My brother: Victor William Phipps

My Grandparents: William (Bill) Cole & Ellen Louisa Cole

And all my Aunts and Uncles, now long gone.

I originally started writing my recollections of World War 2 purely as an account to pass on to my daughter and my grandchildren, as they often asked questions about wartime and our family, most of whom they never met.

My cousins are all younger than me and my brother Vic died a few years ago, so I became a sort of family Historian, as I am the only one old enough to remember those wartime days!

Memory is a funny thing, especially as you get older. You tend to remember events, rather than actual dates, so it is often hard to string events together in the right order.

You also ask yourself ‘Did this really happen’, or ‘was I really there ?’ Or was it something passed down by your older relatives, and has it been embellished?

I have been very particular in including only those events I can personally recall, and I have researched the dates and details from books and the internet, to make the various events as true as I possibly can.

So please read this little book in the manor which it is written, a light hearted journal of those exciting, if a bit frightening days. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it

John Phipps

Forward

I had had a wonderful childhood up to now, with a lovely family. My mum was warm and gentle, and very loving, and Dad, he was my hero, but a bit different to Mum, he was more rough and ready, but was always loving and kind to us. Then there was my brother Victor, or Vicky, as he was affectionately known. I sort of liked my brother, but he was older than me by about four years, so we didn’t have a lot in common. We did play together of course, but he often teased me, and sometimes even bullied me a bit, especially when we were playing with his mates. I guess that he resented always having a kid brother in tow, when he wanted to be with his friends. I knew that he loved me really, and in his defence, I did get him into trouble a lot by telling Mum if he did anything to me. We got on most of the time, and we actually shared a double bed at night, so in the main, we were good friends.

We were a happy and united family, living in a little mid-terrace house in South Harrow, in Middlesex, a suburb of North-west London. We had moved there when I was about four, and the house was brand new, and I can remember green fields at the end of our garden then, although these were gradually build on.

Dad was a bus driver for London Transport and I was very proud of him, he had a smart uniform, with a peaked cap with a white top, and he drove big red double-decker buses from a bus Garage in a place called Harrow Weald. He would sometimes take me there when he collected his wages on a Saturday morning. It was so exciting, going to this vast echoing building, with all it’s bustle and noise, and the buses all shiny and smart all lined up in a row. Some being washed, and some being repaired. This was my earliest introduction to wonders of motor engines and things mechanical. Dad had been a mechanic as well as a driver, and he would often chat to the mechanics working on the buses and he would tell me what they were doing and how things worked. I really loved these days with my dad, and learned a lot, although I was still very young.

We would end up in the canteen, and all the other men made a great fuss of my brother and me, and we had dripping toast and great big mugs of strong tea. Dad reckoned that there was no tea quite like that served in that canteen, he would even buy packets of the stuff to take home. These packets were red with a picture of a Red Indian on them, I’ve often wondered what red Indians had to do with tea!

I knew, even at my tender age of six- and- three quarters, that something important was happening in the world. All the grown - ups were talking about someone called Adolf Hitler, and the news reels at the pictures were full of stories about the Germans invading a place called Poland. It all seemed so far away, where was Poland anyway? It didn’t seem as important to me as the Isle of Man, where George Formby won the TT races, and then sang about it with his ukulele, which I had seen on the cinema screen, with mum and dad at the local Odeon.

My Parents and aunts and uncles did seem quite worried about all these distant happenings, but it didn’t really effect us kids much. My brother was about to start at Harrow County school, and he looked very smart in his new navy blue blazer, that was the biggest thing in our lives, because he had passed the scholarship and Mum and dad were very proud of him. I hoped that I would pass too when I was eleven.

I remember so well the events of that weekend in September 1939, and I think that like people all over the world, I always will. Things would never be the same again in our family, or for many millions of others round the world.

The Eve of War (1939)

We went to my aunt Ivy’s wedding on Saturday, at a church in Wembley and we all had a lovely time. It was a real family do in the church hall, with lots of loverly grub and an enormous cake, with a little man and lady on top.

All my relations were there, all the uncles dressed up in grey suits with grey toppers and flowers on their coats. The ladies looked quite nice too, mum was in her best frock, and my cousin Alan, who was a year younger than me, was a pageboy in a shiny white suit with a sailor’s collar, I was a bit envious of him being in that suit, and being in all the photographs, and going in a very big shiny car. Dad said that it was a Rolls Royce, because he used to drive one when he worked as a chauffeur (whatever that was).

In the hall, all of us cousins had a brilliant time, running around between everyone’s legs while they were dancing, and playing tag and that. Alan got told off by his mum, auntie Rose, for mucking up his shiny suit by sliding on his knees. I can remember Mum being a bit jealous that Alan was chosen as a pageboy and not Vicky or me, as we were the oldest cousins. I was quite glad in the end that I didn’t have to wear a white suit, and a stupid sailor hat, and get told off for mucking it up! Vicky would have looked pretty stupid dressed up like that anyway at his age; he was nearly eleven after all.

It was a bit funny that at about eight o’clock an official looking man with an armband and a tin hat on came round to the hall, and said that we needed to cover the windows up because we were showing too much light, so everyone had to hang their coats up over the windows.

September 3rd 1939

It was Sunday morning, and Dad had the day off, we were all a bit tired, especially us kids, because we had been up late on Saturday night at the wedding.

We were helping Dad in the garden, he was digging up spuds for Sunday dinner, and we were picking runner beans from the enormous pole and string frame which Dad built every year. We loved it in there; it was like a wig-wham, with all these strings hanging down supporting the plants.

Anyway, it got to nearly eleven o’clock in the morning, Dad shouted to us to come into the house. Mum had made her usual Sunday morning batch of Fairy cakes, which were on a plate with a mug of tea for each of us, on the Dining table. (Vicky and I had a coronation mug each, which we got at school when King George VI was crowned King)

Dad turned on the crackly old wireless, and we heard the big Ben chimes strike eleven, outside, the whole world seemed to stop in an instant, there were no voices, no lawn mowers, no familiar Sunday morning sounds at all.

Vicky and I grabbed some cakes, and squabbled over the one with most currents in.

‘Shut up you kids! This is important’ Dad said crossly.

The announcer said, ‘There now follows a special announcement from the Prime Minister, the right honourable Neville Chamberlain.’

There was a long pause, followed by a sad voice.

‘This morning, the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven 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 now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.’

I looked across to my parents, Dad had his arm round Mum’s shoulders and she had a tear running down her cheek.

‘Don’t worry Nell, it will all be over by Christmas. As soon as Adolf gets a taste of our army, he’ll think better of it! Now you kids, out to play, there’s nothing to worry about, and don’t forget Mum’s beans for dinner !’ he laughed.

I grabbed another fairy cake, and ran outside, and Vicky and I disappeared back into our bean tent.

At that moment, Mrs. Cohen, our next door neighbor, rushed out into the garden,