Before the war the phrase that had been on many lips was 'The only good German is a dead one!' Consequently when the Second World War started the adults were saying things such as 'What did I tell you, they're at it again, they're starting another war. They can't be trusted' and so it went on. This may seem dreadful in the 21 st century but for people who had been through the First World War and seen the suffering of the men in the trenches their hatred is perhaps more understandable.

This man lived in our town - one of many disabled men who tried to make a living through their paintings etc. We also saw men, blinded by mustard gas, begging.

So it was in this atmosphere we, impressionable children, grew up. Learning about Edith Cavell and living through air raids only confirmed to us that the adults were right. I hesitated to put this in, but it's the truth, it's what we heard and imbibed and it is what I remember.

But back to Irene, I found she lived in the next street to me and we again became came firm friends sitting next to each other in class. She was a gentle quiet girl and I thought the world of her. We would walk to school together sharing our thoughts for the future. I was longing to be in the Forces, in the Wrens, but Irene was hoping the war would be over long before her conscription papers arrived.

At this new school we were taught to knit socks on four needles, turn the heels and narrow the toes. We also knitted balaclavers for the soldiers and the intricate work of knitting gloves, each finger being worked on four needles. We loved it, and also felt we were doing something useful for the war effort.

The caption on this hoarding was 'England expects every hand to do its Duty.' There were also posters for the Royal Navy and the Army as well as the R.A.F. and knitting patterns for gloves, mittens, scarves, and balaclavers were to be found in most women s magazines.

When we had enough woollens to make a good sized parcel I was asked to write a letter on behalf of our class to Winston Churchill, and was delighted to receive a letter back from him thanking me and the class for the parcel. I kept this letter for many many years, but in one of our house moves many things went missing - my box of treasures being one of them.

In our large playground there was building known as 'The Cookery' it was on the left hand side of the playground whilst the shelters were on the right. In the Cookery we were taught how to cook in a large room where we also washed and ironed. Leading off from this large room there was the school flat which consisted of a dining room, a bedroom and a bathroom. There was also a 'baby' - a doll as large as a baby a few months old, and we were taught how to bath it, change a terry-towelling nappy and dress it. We were also shown how to lay a table correctly and we took it in turns to wait on our teachers after we had cooked their meal. We also had to clean the bathroom. But our greatest delight was in cooking. This was great as the school was given ingredients OFF THE RATION which we could buy. So it meant that every week I brought in something to eat which hadn't cost us any Food Coupons. I remember Lord Woolton's recipe for Vegetable Pie which I hated. The few vegetables we could get generally consisted of a potato, swede and, if lucky, a carrot. Oatmeal was always added to thicken it. Onions were very scarce so the resulting pie was horrid. Most of the Onions came from the Channel Islands before the war but as the Germans had invaded the Islands they were unable to export them as the Germans commandeered all the food supplies. The onions grown in England had been virtually destroyed due to crop after crop being destroyed by blight so each onion was treasured. In fact in 1941 a raffle for Ilb. of onions raised the equivalent of a man's weekly wage! They were also popular as prizes at dances and other social events! Hard to believe this in the 21 st century isn't it? Can you imagine going home holding two onions as if they were gold dust, and the excitement they would cause when you reached home? Well, that's how it was during the war.

One of the things we made at school was Mock Apricot Tart. I remember going home one day and saying 'Next week we are going to make Apricot Tart' faces brightened at the thought of this treat until I added 'So can you get me some carrots and plum jam Mam' Even the plum jam would have been difficult to get as the ration was one jar of jam or marmalade every eight weeks. It was all 'mock' this and 'mock' that as we tried to make meals as tasty and nourishing as possible. We had 'Mock Bananas' which were parsnips boiled with a touch of banana essence and milk added when cool. For sandwiches we had mashed pilchards and grated carrot very tasty, and minced fried bacon rind and toasted oatmeal. It was an offence to throw bacon rind away, in fact anyone who threw away what could be eaten was prosecuted.
'Auntie threw her rinds away - To the lock-up she was taken. There she is, and there she'll stay, Till she learns to save her bacon'
was a popular rhyme at this time. We ate a lot of pigs' trotters during the war with vinegar, lovely, we always enjoyed these, and they filled us up which was the main thing! Our rations were 2ozs. meat per week 1oz. of which had to be corned beef. 3ozs. cheese, 2ozs. tea, bacon or ham was 4ozs. per week when available butter was 4 ozs. with 2ozs. cooking fat. Milk was 2 pints per week with a tin of powdered milk every eight weeks. We were allowed 29 eggs per YEAR and a packet of dried eggs - the equivalent of 12 eggs - every two months. A Points System was introduced for non- rationed goods such as suet, fish, cereals. The allowance was 16 points every four weeks but as Weetabix was eight points we had to be frugal. Sausages, not rationed, were like gold dust but even they were mostly oatmeal or cereal. At Christmas instead of Turkey we had 'Murkey' which was stuffed mutton and everyone ate it in true Christmas spirit and thought ourselves lucky.

We were also taught how to iron in school. The flat irons we used were heated on a large metal plate then picked up very carefully with a folded cloth then, when the iron cooled it was put back on to the heated plate and another one was taken. This heated plate was a wonderful invention to us as at home the iron was heated on the fire then wiped clean from coal dust before ironing. The times we most resented the day-light raids were when we were doing our cookery.
It meant that we had to run across the playground whilst the poor teacher had to stay and look after our cakes or dinners, whatever we were cooking. Looking back on those days now I realise how brave she was and what a stress it must have been for her to look after the cakes 20-30 girls had been making. To spoil food would have been looked upon as a disaster! In fact it was a crime. "Food is a munition of war, don't waste it' said the Ministry of Food poster. There were Posters everywhere. On a walk into town we could read at least 40 posters, each one reminding us of the demands and horrors of the war which had to be faced and obeyed.

There was also a 'Control of Paper Order' in force 'No person shall in connection with any sale or retail wrap or pack with paper any article which does not reasonably require such wrapping or packing for its protection.'

As well as being registered with a Grocer, every household had to be registered with a Butcher. You couldn't just go into any Butcher shop and buy meat. The meat coupons had to be registered with a particular Butcher and you couldn't change. I remember once our Butcher had a rabbit 'Off the Ration' for someone who picked a certain number out of a hat and, to my amazement when I went for our ration I picked the winning number! I think I flew home, not ran, as I was so excited. I recall shouting 'I've got a rabbit' 'I've got a rabbit' as I dashed into the house. What a dinner that was!

Gas mask drill at school was always a laugh for us - not for the teachers. We never used the cloakrooms during the war as it was too far to go when the siren sounded so our coats and gas masks were kept on the backs of our chairs. Every few days a clacking sound would be heard. It was the teacher with her 'gas rattle' the signal to be used for a Gas Attack. Out-of-doors it was the job of the Police and Air Raid Wardens to go round the streets waving their rattles to announce an attack and in schools it was the teacher in each class who would announce the attack. So when we heard the rattle we immediately took our gas masks out of our gas mask cases and put them on. We were timed in doing this as 'delay means death' we were told. The teacher used a stop-watch and would go round the class tapping someone on the shoulder saying 'You're dead' 'You're dead'. Those 'tapped' were then asked 'why the delay?' Everyone had to put their gas masks on quickly but they were dreadful things to wear, especially when we were made to do part of our lesson in them. The eye-piece misted up so we could barely see and. when the teacher wasn't looking, we would put our hands in and wipe it clean.

It also got very hot and sticky inside and we felt unable to breathe so, again when the teacher wasn't looking, we would lift the mask off from under our chin, take a deep breath and then put it on again. The ghastly noise it made as we breathed out made us all laugh which meant the eye-piece misted up even quicker! They were a wash-out, but it gave us a laugh.

I remember being told of some schools which held gas mask tests. Children would be sent into an air-raid shelter which was then filled with tear gas. If their gas masks fitted then they were fine, but if not, the children would come out with tears streaming down their faces from the effects of the tear gas, and these effects lasted a considerable time! We were very glad our school didn't decide to test our gas masks as mine certainly didn't fit and I didn't know anyone whose gas mask did. Fortunately Hitler never used gas against us and later we learned that he had thought it would be a waste of time and effort to bomb people with gas when they were so well prepared - if only he had known!

One day - a very exciting day - the teacher came in with a box of tiny chocolate bars. They were from the Optomists Club in Canada and said 'From the children of Canada to the children of Great Britain'. We were all given one and we were thrilled, not only as we were getting a bar of chocolate 'Off the ration' but for the kind thoughts of those children so many many miles away. Someone had thought of us, and someone had cared. And even today, so many years later, it fills me with joy and emotion to remember that kindness which meant so much to us children during a very difficult time.

I loved the Plays we put on, the ones I remember most being 'As you like it' and 'The Merchant of Venice' by Shakespeare and Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens. I was in all these plays as my voice 'carried' - in other words I could shout!!! I remember our young teacher taking us to her parents' house to practice. She was a lovely young woman and we all loved her.

I remember once when in her class I had been giggling and was sent - in disgrace - to stand behind the blackboard. This blackboard was huge! It was free standing and had a handle at the bottom which was used to turn the board over so it could be written on both sides. I soon got bored, however, and began to look around for mischief - I then found I could crouch down and wave to the class through the handle. This, of course, made the class giggle but when the teacher got up and looked around the board she found I was standing looking very innocent so it couldn't have been me!! As she returned to her seat I started again, this time putting my tongue through the handle and waggling it - again the class laughed and the poor teacher sent me back to my desk as 'You are more of a nuisance behind the board than in your seat!!!' She was chuckling as she said it and everyone knew she had seen the funny side of it. As I said, she was a lovely teacher!

I also made her laugh when she was trying to reprimand the girl in front of me. For some reason I found it hilarious and couldn't help giggling and the teacher kept looking at me, trying not to smile and continue with her reprimand but in the end she gave up and laughed too and told the girl she had me to thank for not being told off more severely. I loved being in her class.

Elizabeth Aynsley ©

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