Page 10 - My Story

excused the exam as she was ill at the time other children of her age were sitting it but was awarded a
“special place”.

I went to the local elementary school and only two things remain in my memory of this school,
one being drilled to line up and march into the building by one of the male teachers who insisted that no
matter how many children were in line, when the first person put his right foot forward than the whole
line put his right foot forward and that would get us into our class room sooner! The other is sitting on a
bench waiting in a large space for my mother to come and fetch me home after an air raid.

During this time my grandmother received all kinds of visitors from other countries. There was a
contingent of displaced Jews from Gibraltar, headed by one Mr. ben Zimra. They brought lovely tiny
almondy cookies – such a treat for the Brits who were starving for treats. I remember we used to candy
our own orange peel, when we could get hold of an orange and stuffed dates were another homemade
treat. Another visitor was an American nurse called Frieda. Frieda was madly in love with Sy who was a
large lump of a man, who sat on the couch, with Frieda, who was petit, all over him, saying very little.
Apparently, Frieda was related to us in some way – when the family left Lithuania one person got on the
boat headed for Liverpool and a sibling was caught in the crush and found himself on a boat headed for
Ellis Island. Anyway, we saw a lot of Frieda and Sy and they eventually got married and the whole family
was invited to quite an upscale wedding, I think in Grosvenor House in Mayfair.

My Dad was still in Gibraltar and we used to listen to a families’ request programme on the radio,
hosted by Joan Gilbert, called, “Hello Gibraltar” where families could speak to their servicemen and then
request some piece of music. Jackie wrote to Joan Gilbert and we were scheduled to broadcast to Daddy
on June 6, 1944. We rehearsed what we would say, settled on what music we would request and then,
oh disappointment, the broadcast was cancelled, no explanation given. June 6, 1944 turned out to be D
Day.

The V1s had arrived. These were unmanned planes that you heard in the skies overhead. They had a
distinctive thrumming sound and then the engine would stop, there would be a couple of seconds silence
and then the plane/bomb would fall. We were terrified but at least they could be spotted and given an
air raid warning. We called them Flying Bombs. When the all clear sounded we children would rush
outside to see what had been hit and what shrapnel we could collect. There was a lot of competition over
shrapnel although even shrapnel could not compete with conkers in the autumn.

For those of you who did not grow up in England, conkers are horse chestnuts. They are lovely
shiny brown inedible nuts that fall to the ground wrapped in spiky green coats and children (grown men,
too, according to YouTube) collect them and look for the largest and hardest champion conker. You thread
your conker onto a string and then try to break everyone else’s conker by throwing it against theirs’. You
really need to go onto YouTube to see how the competition goes but it is serious stuff or was then and to
us children it was just as important as shrapnel or flying bombs!

The V1s were followed, in the fall of 1944, by the V2s, Hitler’s ultimate weapon. These arrived
without warning and fell with a huge explosion or maybe they exploded on impact. You never knew when
they were coming or where they would fall. London became such a nightmare that my mother decided
to take us away again. The place of choice this time was Rickmansworth because Uncle Rube and family
were there.

Our first billet was in Maple Cross where a very strict lady, Mrs. Churchill and her adopted
daughter, was she another Sheila?, greeted us. There were rules to be observed – you sit straight in your
chair and you do not tilt back because that will weaken the back legs. Sheila was always fed in the barn
and Mrs. Churchill would be happier if my mother fed us there. My mother declined and set about looking
for other lodgings.

Certain songs are always associated with the times. During the war we heard a lot of Roll out the Barrel-

Roll out the barrel, we’ll have a barrel of fun

And one that I think might have been a boy scout song and never made sense to me –

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