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A child's wartime in WalesLast updated: 26 April 2006

Life in Holyhead during thelast war was dangerous andexciting for a small boy - asretired local doctor KenRoberts of Trearddur Bayrecalls in a series of evocativearticles.

This is not a serious, accurate account - just a series ofpersonal impressions which may be blurred by a faultymemory.

Nevertheless it's vivid enough, covering some of the mostmomentous years of this century, when I was a primaryschool pupil in Holyhead.

What a bustling, exciting place to be a small boy! TheRailway and Marine Yards were hives of activity. The townswarmed with servicemen - soldiers, sailors and airmen,some of mixed nationalities.

In the early years there was an additional sense of danger,as we were an occasional target for the Luftwaffe, en routeto Liverpool. That subsided after 1942, when enemy airactivity in our zone ceased.

We boys were older by then and ranged about - a gang ofscruffy ruffians playing Commandos and Germans, Cowboysand Indians or Legionaries and Arabs, depending on whatfilm was showing at the Empire or Hippodrome.

To appreciate the effects of war, one must first experiencepeace. I am old enough to recall the pre-war days, whichseemed so plentiful.

I lived with my parents and younger brother in a tinyterraced cottage - 9 Cross Street. Fortunately, my father wasin a good job - on the footplate of the LMS locomotives, sowe did not want for good food. In the war this was areservist occupation, which meant he was not called up tothe armed services.

So up to 1939 our table was always well stocked, especiallyon Saturday nights when relatives were frequent visitors.Christmas was a dream. The shops were brilliantly lit and fullof goods. Presents of toy projectors, gramophones, cars andMeccano would appear on Christmas morning.

With the onset of war, this delightful world vanished. Thestreets were pitch black at night, the shops were empty andto a five-year-old the disappearance of all but a few sweetsseemed like a disaster! You are all used to seeing well-

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stocked sweet shop shelves with old favourites - Cadbury'sDairy Milk chocolate, Aero, Crunchie, Maltesers, Rolo. So itwas in 1939, together with some no longer with us.

The inimitable taste of Bluebird and Edmondson's Red Sealtoffee lingers on the tongue to this day! By 1940 you couldnot find them. I recall searching the town shops in Waterside,Stanley Street and Market Street for a bar of chocolate,clutching a sixpence (2.5p) I had been given. It had aspending power of almost a pound nowadays.

There were bars of chocolate on a card in the window of MrsNunn's general shop next door to us, but she would not sellone without my mother's permission. Through my tears Icould not understand why my mother would not allow it. Infact, these chocolates were laxative bars! Read more of Ken's wartime memories

your comments

Martin Briscoe, LochaberA recent book on the RAF in North Wales during WWIIshows a couple of photographs of a Royal Navy "Radar Bus"being unloaded from a Landing Ship Tank at the SaundersRoe works near Beaumaris. It says that it was on its way toHolyhead. The bus is a double-decker and has some of itswindows covered or blanked off. I can't see that there wouldbe enough RN radar personnel at Holyhead to need adouble-decker bus so puzzled about why it was sent therethough could just be the usual service logic to send thereeven though it would not go over the Menai Bridge. Iwonder if anyone remembers seeing it around Holyheadduring WWII?Thu Jul 27 09:58:46 2006

Would you like to share your own memories of Holyhead indays gone by? Simply add your comments to this box.

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Enemy planes over the townLast updated: 26 April 2006

The dark side of the war wasthe onset of air raids. At onestage the sirens sounded nightafter night, though actualbombing occurred only ninetimes, with two episodes ofmachine gunning only.

The chill of fear that starts when the siren moans has to beexperienced to be appreciated. The sound, when heard on aradio or television, still produces a prickling of the scalp.

I was old enough to know the possible consequences - I hadseen the newsreels. I suppose I can never appreciate the fearmy mother must have felt, usually alone with me and mybaby brother. My father would be away at work on troop andammunition trains. During these early alerts we would sithuddled in a corner by the fire, until the long, friendly wail ofthe 'all clear' sounded.

The first alert of the war occurred in the middle of theafternoon, when I was playing on Marine Square with myfriend Robert. At the beginning of the war everyone wasunder the impression that when the alert sounded, bombswould start to rain down immediately.

Although there were no signs of an aircraft, and we livedonly a short distance away, the good lady living in the Havendashed out and took us both down into her cellar until the 'allclear' was heard.

That spirit of community was alive and active through thetown. I heard of many similar incidents when children andyoungsters were taken off the streets into adjacent homes,when an unexpected daylight alert sounded.

On one occasion that unwelcome sound was heard faintlywhen I was sitting in the ninepenny (3.75p) wooden seats atthe front of the Empire Cinema. The film, The Shop aroundthe Corner, was stopped and the house lights were turnedup.

Mr McDougal the manager gave a short speech. We werewelcome to shelter under the seats until the end of the raid,when the film would resume, or we could leave. I was veryupset with my older teenage cousin in charge, who decidedsensibly to go home. She had to drag a crying, reluctantchild down Cybi Street and through Well Street. My onlyconcern was missing the "Pictures!"

I had the dubious privilege of seeing the explosion of the firstbomb dropped on Holyhead. It was a Saturday afternoon on





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October 5, 1940.

I was seated at the table of our living room, facing thewindow and listening to Children's Hour on the wireless. Mymother was ironing in the back kitchen and had just reachedthe doorway with a flat iron to be re-heated on the livingroom fire.

Suddenly there was an enormous bang, and the house shook.Above the rooftops a spectacular cloud of smoke flewupwards, and within it I could see bricks, stones and lengthsof wood. We had nowhere to shelter in our house, so wequickly found ourselves crouching under the stairs with ourneighbours next door.

The sound of gunfire could be heard, as the plane wasstrafing the town. We could hear anti-aircraft fire too. Thatbecame a familiar sound at night, especially the small gunsknown as 'pom-poms', making a sound like their nickname.

The 'all clear' sounded and we discovered that Church Housein Boston Street had been demolished totally. If the bombhad dropped ten minutes earlier it would have killed MrsCharles Hughes' ballet class, and two hours later the hallwould have been packed for a Saturday night dance.

Our Sunday School was held at the Hall, so for the rest ofthe War it was moved to St Seiriol's Church. A hole made bya 20mm shell from the plane's strafing of the town wasvisible in our chimney stack.

Five other bombs and twentyincendiary bombs werereleased at the same time.Damage was done at thebottom of Newry Fawr.

Late one night, on April 9,1941, another bomb wasdropped within two hundred

yards of Church House. It struck the area of the chapel andgarage - now a tyre depot on Lands' End. It causedwidespread damage to windows and houses, includingwagons on the siding over the wall. One wagon bogie wasembedded in the road.

A teenage girl who lived in our street was sheltering in adoorway with a sailor friend, when she received a shrapnelwound to her neck. She was quite famous for a weekafterwards! I had a piece of shrapnel, a fragment of thatbomb, for many years. Somehow I lost it during a springcleaning.

Seven other bombs with incendiary devices were alsodropped, mostly in the outer harbour. We were blissfullyunaware that nearby was a loaded ammunitions train whichhad just taken the cargo from a Canadian ship. If that hadbeen hit Holyhead would have been devastated. Read more of Ken's wartime memories


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The whine of a bomb - and real terrorLast updated: 08 May 2006

You are fortunate if you havenever experienced real fear - amind-chilling state whenyou're certain that death isimminent.

That happened to me one lunch time. It was November 8,1940. There was no alert, but there was the sound of anaircraft overhead.

I stood outside the school gates and my friend Robert said,"What's that plane?" A German aero-engine's tone wasdifferent from our own.

I didn't look up as I was too engrossed in studying my bookof National Savings stamps. Regrettably I never saw theplane as Robert pointed to it, swooping in a diving circle overthe rooftops of Bryn Môr Terrace and Park Street.

It had a transparent nose and the crosses on the wings wereclearly visible - it was probably a Heinkel HE111.

My route home from Park School was through Lower ParkStreet along a narrow lane past the laundry. This buildingwas an old chapel and it is now Goodsir's coach garage.

Suddenly I heard it! The newsreels of terror bombing byStukas sprang to mind. Many German bombs were fitted withsirens or whistles to terrorise the enemy population. Itworked!

That high pitched whine as the bomb dropped will live withme forever. I took to my heels, screaming all the way. Iwould have won any race with the speed I travelled!

At the top of Cross Street there was no-one in sight. CrossStreet was a hill of terraced houses leading down to StanleyCrescent. The middle is missing now as Waterside flats areacross the site.

My feet barely touched the pavement as I hurtled downhilltowards home. Robert was close behind. The whistling bombhowled its sound down the scales to utter silence. Before itlanded a good lady shot out from her house half way downthe hill, whisking us both indoors.

The belated wail of the alert was heard, followed by machinegun fire as the plane strafed the streets. We heard gunfire inthe distance as the aircraft was pursued to its doom.

I do not remember an explosion but four high explosives





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were dropped - three into the outer harbour, somewhere offMackenzie Pier I believe.

In retrospect I may have been running partially towards thebomb, rather than away from it! Damage was done inBryngoleu Avenue and an unexploded 1100lb device was laterdug out from the road, where it had severed a drain. It wastaken to Penrhosfeilw rifle range to be exploded. I recall weboys thought it was a 'time bomb', imagining something likean alarm clock wired to it - as illustrated in the Beano comic!

To me, the most memorable raid on the town was the onewhen two parachute mines were dropped on Salt Island. Itwas a night raid on February 25, 1941, when I awoke to themost dreadful explosion I have ever heard.

The house shook and ceiling plaster rained down on top ofme. The family made their way downstairs to sheltersomewhere safer. There was soot and plaster everywhere.

One mine struck a patch of rough ground which was a lay-byon the left side of the road within the ferry terminalcompound, now inaccessible to the public, but to the right ofthe limited walkway which is also closed for security.

It was within yards of Island House, the harbourmaster'sresidence on the site of the old checkpoint. Customs andBoard of Trade buildings and the Stanley Hospital were alittle further away.

Damage was caused but it was only superficial, and it wasamazing that they survived, because the full fury of the blastwas directed across the water to the town.

Three streets stood on the site next to the public toilets onthe approach to Salt Island. They were Front Bath Street,Back Bath Street and Parliament Ditch. All were wreckedtotally beyond repair, and the occupants never returned tothem.

Damage continued well into the town. A door was blown offits hinges in Cybi Place, and windows were shattered as faras London Road. The other mine blew up in the inner harbourand damaged shipping.

The following morning I was taken to the back yard of thehouse opposite, where I could look up at the rear face of thewhole street facing towards Salt Island. Not a pane of glasswas in sight!

All other houses experienced damage, yet not one pane ofglass was lost at my home, number nine; not then or duringall the other bombing incidents. Stanley Crescent was strewnwith glass, debris and cardboard advertisements from shopwindows. I came home with a placard advertising Ovaltine.

Naturally we made our way to Salt Island the followingmorning - school was forgotten after a heavy night raid.Access was barred, and it was the following day before we allmanaged to view the crater, marvelling at its size and depth.


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The area was under armed guard, and photographyforbidden.

There were many night alerts that came to naught. Duringthe early months, before we had a Morrison Shelter, weended up next door, under the staircase of Mrs Hughes,number seven.

Dear Mrs Hughes was a perfect neighbour; though notrelated, she was always 'Auntie' to me. I can recall wakingthere by candlelight, having been so deeply asleep I wasunaware of having been whisked out of bed and carried nextdoor.

Thankfully, all this was over by 1942. All the bombing tookplace in 1941, and Holyhead must have been heaven blessed.Considering the density of the population and the degree ofdamage, it is nothing short of a miracle that nobody waskilled. The war itself claimed many of my relatives, includingmy Cousin Fred, pictured above. Read more of Ken's wartime memories


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The Greater SacrificeLast updated: 26 April 2006

The dark side of the periodwas one from which we couldnot escape. Probably everyfamily in the town wastouched by it in some way.

Examine the tablets on the Cenotaph and you will find onehundred and thirty eight names. That is one hundred andthirty eight too many, but it is the inevitable price to pay inwar.

The one unpopular person in the town was the telegraph boy.A young lad employed by the Post Office, dressed in a pillbox cap and with a smart leather belt and pouch, he cycledaround carrying his flimsy messages.

Few people had telephones and the telegram was theequivalent of the modern urgent phone call. It wasexpensive, so it was used only on special occasions.

The sight of him riding down your street struck dread ineveryone, as too often he carried a message indicatingsomeone's loved one was killed in action, or at best missing,believed taken prisoner.

I saw my mother crying with a telegram in her hand. It wasnot an official one from the Ministry of Defence, but a privateone from her brother in Falmouth; my cousin Fred was lost atsea.

My other uncle in Lower Park Street received an official one.Cousin Bob (pictured above), a quiet young man starting acareer as a clerk for the LMS, had joined the Navy and hedied the day after D-Day. He was mentioned in despatchesand awarded an Oak Leaf Emblem.

He was last seen still at his post, firing his anti-aircraft gunas his ship went down. His name is there on the Cenotaph. R Thomas does not mean much to the casual observer, but itwas a terrible loss, as were all the other names to theirfamilies.

The other hero was my Aunt Vera's fiancé, 'Uncle' Llew, whowas always so kind to me. He was a submariner but kept itsecret from his mother to avoid upsetting her.

I recall visiting her with my aunt. I was full of aeroplanesand submarines but was warned not to mention anything toher. I got the message and kept my big mouth shut.

Llew must have had a special kind of courage. Before the





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war, the submarine Thetis sank and all aboard weresuffocated. Weeks later the vessel was towed into Holyheadand the horrendous job of unloading the bodies was carriedout. All the town were observers. Many of the dead wereburied at Maeshyfryd Cemetery.

Llew (left), a young civilian,must have watched with therest. Imagine what it musthave been like for him when,after joining the Navy, he wentaboard as a sailor on asubmarine named theThunderbolt.

It was the Thetis refurbished! She was lost at sea but beforethen Llew had transferred to the Tetrarch. In her turn shewent missing after leaving Malta in October, 1941. His nameis there on the cenotaph: Llewelyn Wyn Jones.

Being ashore, we couldn't see what was happening out atsea, but we did observe some of its effects. There was muchcoming and going of naval vessels, and now and again,evidence of enemy action.

One ship was hit and sunk beyond the breakwater on July12, 1940, and the next morning I saw boatloads of sheepnear Porthsach, and cattle driven ashore by the old lifeboathouse - the Maritime Museum, at Newry Beach.

On one occasion the beaches were strewn with oranges. Wewere warned not to touch them; in fact the sea had renderedthem inedible. What a shame, we hadn't seen oranges sincethe onset of war!

On another occasion barrels of a mysterious powder we called'ice cream' powder appeared. It was flour and some of it wastaken away and used to make cakes. Read more of Ken's wartime memories

your comments

Harry Edwards, Parbold, LancashireWe were living at Railway Cottage, Valley, during the war. Iremember going to the Cob and seeing boxes of oranges onthe beach. My friends and I thought how lovely and westarted to eat them. They tasted terrible because they werefull of salt water.I attended Holyhead National School andone day the air-raid siren went. The teacher told us to gohome and only return when the all-clear went. I went hometo Valley and naturally didn't hear the all-clear and somissed the rest of the school day.Mon Aug 3 09:43:21 2009

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Preparation is half the battleLast updated: 26 April 2006

How did we prepare for allthese events? The civilianpopulation, including children,were expected to put all theirefforts into combating theenemy.

Men who weren't away with the forces, or otherwise occupiedin important reservist occupations, joined the Home Guard. Myuncle was a member, and I recall being disobedient andplaying with his .303 rifle, skinning my finger on the boltmechanism.

Air raid wardens were a great help. One citizen was expectedto watch his own district. Mr Huw John Thomas of Salt Islandwas ours, and his friendly call at our door was reassuringduring those fearful times when we were huddled in a corner.

Windows were taped to reduce the effect of glass shatteringin a bomb blast. Each street had one house where a stirruppump was kept. It was capable of hosing a fire from a bucketof water, and it could produce a fine mist to envelope aburning magnesium incendiary bomb.

The blackout was imposed by law, with the threat of a fine ifbreached. Coarse black cloth known as blackout material wasavailable to make curtains. I recall it made useful footballshorts too!

All windows and external doors were enveloped in this. Goingout at night meant extinguishing hall lights before openingthe door. On a moonless night the street was as black as ink,with only the pinpoint glow of a cigarette to indicatesomeone's presence.

As the air-raids progressed each household was issued with aMorrison Table Shelter (pictured below). It was an all-steelreinforced table with mesh sides assembled in the room like agiant Meccano set.

The family could retreat inside it and it would be possible tosurvive if the whole house collapsed on top of it. I recallemerging from it after one bombing, with the room coveredin soot. The blast of a bomb was an effective chimneycleaner! It doubled as a playground at other times - I made atoy cinema in ours.

The Anderson shelter was an underground type which couldbe dug into the garden. I recall only one in the town, in frontof the Board of Trade houses on Salt Island.

Gas masks were issued for our protection. One evening I was





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over-awed by the presence of our Park School Headmaster,Mr WB Thomas, in our living room. A tremendous personality,he was doing his 'bit' by helping to fit the population withtheir gas masks.

At first my baby brother had a peculiar contraption fitted witha bellows. He could be inserted inside it. As he grew, this waschanged to a hideous red and blue 'Mickey Mouse' type fortoddlers.

Mine was a smaller version of the adult model, black with asingle window. The smell of it was unpleasant and thewindow would mist up almost immediately. Smearing it witha thin layer of soap reduced the nuisance.

It came in a stout cardboard box which could be slung overthe shoulder. It had to be carried wherever you went. Manybought smarter containers, especially the ladies, whopreferred models that looked like shoulder bags.

Our school played a large part in instructing us on how tocope with air-raids. During an alert we were to file out andmake our way home or to specified houses if we lived too faraway. An air raid drill was a welcome break on a finemorning!

Our teacher recommended ear plugs, small rubber objects, toprotect our ear-drums during explosions, and also a pencil orstick covered with rubber, on which one could bite hard.

We had frequent gas-mask drill during lessons. In an actualattack a rattle - like a football supporter's rattle - would besounded; it never happened.

We would sit wearing them for ten minutes or so, trying tocontinue with our work. If you breathed too fiercely, the airwould escape noisily at the edges of the mask, making a'whoopee cushion' sound. It was excruciating; you daren'tlaugh or you would receive the stick across your hand!

Our teachers would join in schemes to encourage the wareffort; raising money towards financing the forces andweapon production, and saving waste materials.

National savings stamps were sold weekly to all pupils whocould afford to contribute. I recall 'miles of pennies' along thepavements, and collections of waste paper, newspapers,comics and one particular day when we all brought old books.

One large salvage drive earlyin the war was the removal ofall surplus metal, ostensiblyfor building tanks and aircraft.

Pots and pans werecontributed, but the greatestvandalism was the removal ofrailings. Many were cast iron

and probably useless for war purposes.


hanesyddol yr ardal

Railings from house frontages, St. Cybi's churchyard,including graves, and in front of the Coastguard houses wereall uprooted and taken away.

In his spare time, my father kept an allotment, on the site ofthe derelict Newry Senior Citizens' Club. We would trek upCoastguards' Lane with spades and forks.

It provided a valuable source of extra food. Everyone wasdoing it, in response to the 'Dig for Victory' campaign. I wasnever aware of going hungry, even though rations seemonerous by modern standards. I think it was probably goodmanagement and sacrifice by my parents that saw usreasonably fed. We were conscious only of the missingluxuries.

I remember one Saturday morning chore which was my duty.I had to queue for at least a precious hour of lost playtime atGlenton's greengrocers, next to the Reform Hotel and bakery,now the Conservative Club, all for a precious bag of tomatoesand the bread ration!

As a precaution against air-raids - aimed mainly at watersideinstallations - my parents lugged us across town to spend thenights with relatives in the London Road district.

It was a cumbersome and time consuming business. Ourrations had to be made up like a picnic, and on nights whenthe weather was dreadful we would arrive soaking wet.

Despite Wellington boots, oilskin coat and sou'wester hat Ican recall the extreme discomfort, sitting on the edge of mybrother's pram, with icy water trickling down my neck andover my knees.

We would sleep on mattresses laid on the floor, and riseearly. To reach school on time there would be an excitingride on the crossbar of father's bicycle.

At first we stayed in Wian Street, and then changed toGilbert Street. Years later, on seeing Holyhead from the air,the whole tedious business appeared useless. Given the lackof accuracy of bomb-aiming we were probably in just asmuch danger. Still, we felt safer! Read more of Ken's wartime memories


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Always look on the bright side...Last updated: 26 April 2006

Despite the privations, therewas much to keep smallchildren happy. There wereplenty of places to play andexciting incidents to watch.

A regular meeting place for our gang was a group of derelicthouses in a lane behind Cybi Place. Inevitably we called them'Bombed Houses' though this was untrue. They werefrequently boarded up but we removed the boards fairlyquickly!

At the start of war an invasion was anticipated. The rails onthe bottom promenade at Newry Beach were festooned withbarbed wire, and the entrances to slipways blocked. SaltIsland was covered with barbed wire and the buildings whichwere a meteorological station were converted to machine gunemplacements.

But we soon found a way onto the beaches. One of ourfavourite play areas was the rocky beach below thecoastguard station. We could see the comings and goings ofships and the many strange aircraft, including seaplanes -Westland Lysanders - and once an autogiro, similar to ahelicopter. We were open mouthed with awe when coastguardpersonnel practised firing a machine gun out to sea.

Among the boats moored in the harbour were motor torpedovessels (M.T.Bs.) and launches engaged in air sea rescue.One of these became a casualty mid way through the war,but not from enemy action.

We had one of our northerly storms on a Saturday night, andit was wrecked on Newry Beach, opposite the Chandlery.Sunday observance was still strict but after Sunday School wecouldn't resist the temptation to swarm all over it, regrettablyin our Sunday best clothes. I was in hot water when I wenthome!

The bow section was eventually moved to Porthsach, where itrotted away for many years, and often featured in the manyartistic impressions of that popular Holyhead scene.

There were foreign servicemen about, including one Dutchcaptain with a goatee beard. We were certain he acted thepart of a U-Boat Captain in the film Western Approaches,dedicated to the Merchant Navy. Much of this was shot atHolyhead.

Later there were the Americans. They were so popular. Theyloved children, and showered sweets and chewing gum on us.





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They crowded the town and had huge spending power.

On one Saturday they cleared the local cycle store of itsstock. I saw one airman hurtling backwards down BostonStreet! There was virtually no traffic along Lands End so hecame to no harm.

One amusing story is of the time when the Americansdecided to lay on a Christmas party for all the town children.Army lorries picked us all up at the Lands End bus stop -opposite the lower churchyard of St. Cybi.

The feast laid on was out of this world. We all saw mountainsof food and exotics that were unobtainable with rationing.One young lad encountered ice cream for the first time in hisliving memory. He had an even younger brother at home sowhen it was time to leave he thought of him and filled hispockets with ice cream!

There was more excitement whenever a naval vessel put in.When liberty was given, the town swarmed with cheerfulsailors, much to the delight of pubs, chip shops, the localcinemas and teenage girls.

Visits by such ships often coincided with local events such asWar Weapons Weeks, and it would be possible to go aboard.We would swarm over them, climbing ladders, shouting downvoice pipes and cranking the anti-aircraft guns up and down.

We had at least one opportunity to tour a British submarine,and it seemed comfortable enough, with curtained-off privateareas for the officers. At the end of the war we examined aGerman U-Boat brought into the port. In contrast this wasstark and bare, with no comforts. It produced a horriblesensation of claustrophobia.

Visits to relatives were highlights. I was spoiled by my aunts,especially my aunt in Gilbert Street. At one stage she hadtwo pretty girls, members of the Land Army, staying withher. They made a fuss of a small boy.

My Uncles Tom and Cyril (above) in Rhosneigr would comehome on leave. One was in the RAF and the other in theArmy. I remember being taken to a NAAFI and given aprecious and unobtainable bar of Kit Kat.

I mentioned War Weapons Weeks. These were the mostcolourful and exciting events held in the town, devotedprimarily to raising extra money for the war effort, and thesale of National Savings stamps and certificates.

Week by week we would buy stamps, at school, and from anappointed street collector. During these weeks we wereencouraged to buy more from stalls and the Savings Centre.

The town was decorated with flags and various exhibitionswere held, usually showing the functions of the differentservices. Each week had a theme, for example, MerchantNavy Week, or Wings for Victory.

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There would be parades (left)through the town with bands,marching soldiers, sailors andairmen, armoured cars andbren gun carriers, Sea Cadetsand Scouts and Guides.

On Newry Beachdemonstrations of fire fighting

and dinghy rescues were given. The population would be outin force, with patriotic fervour at its height. This was coupledto a strong anti-German feeling. It may seem unpleasant tothe present generation.

I recall a large bomb casing outside the National SavingsCentre at the top of Boston Street - now the ladies' shopTouch of Class.

It stood there for the duration of one of those weeks and wewere encouraged to buy stamps and stick them on thecasing. I remember it was covered with stamps, and I alsorecall the dubious satisfaction of sticking a stamp on it,knowing that the casing was to be filled and dropped onGermany.

There were no qualms over the death and destruction itmight wreak; after all, they bombed us! Read more of Ken's wartime memories


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Gogledd Orllewin



The moving imageLast updated: 09 May 2006

A favourite source of freeentertainment for us childrenwas the Mobile Cinema.

Whilst out playing, we would be alerted by the strains ofmusic over the roof-tops - always Washington Post, a Sousamarch.

We would abandon play and run towards the sound. Thecinema would have certain pitches, usually the top of BostonStreet, or Marine Square.

Something for nothing is always a pleasure, and 'freepictures' was a treat. It was a van, an enormous bluepantechnicon, like a furniture removal vehicle. It had twolarge horn loudspeakers on its roof and National Savingsemblems painted on its sides.

In effect, it was a propaganda machine. A large crowd,mostly children, would congregate around its rear end. Aftera spell of music, a section of the back would open slowly anda screen would appear.

A programme of short films would follow: minordocumentaries, cartoons and comedies featuring British starsof the period - Will Hay, Claude Hulbert, George Formby andothers.

The appearance of Hitler and his henchmen would producethe usual howls of derision, boos and catcalls.

I recall one song, Save and Lend, a Bob in the Pound, a Bobin the Pound every Pay Day. It was frank propaganda, a 'Bob'being one shilling, or 5p. Even though we saw the same filmsover and over again, it was always an attraction.

The two town cinemas were our main source ofentertainment, though we could rarely afford to go more thantwice a week. The Empire and Hippodrome showed to twopacked houses nightly, definitely not on Sundays.

The main film, with its supporting shorts and newsreels,would be changed mid-week. The Hippodrome Cinema stoodwhere the Pioneer (Co-op) is nowadays.

The other source of entertainment was the radio or 'wireless.'There were excellent musical programmes and a whole rangeof comedy and variety shows.





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ITMA, a comedy featuring the Liverpool comedian TommyHandley (pictured above, right), was the most popular.

Its humour relied on awful puns and a stream of bizarrecharacters. It sounds so dated and unfunny now, but weloved it, and my friend Robert and I, when not reading theBeano on his doorstep in Well Street, would re-enact thecurrent show on the pavement.

Curiously, although I was very young at the time, Iremember that most serious of broadcasts by NevilleChamberlain, the Prime Minister, on a Sunday morning withthe smell of Sunday dinner in my nostrils - his famousannouncement of the outbreak of war.

I also recall the snarling voice of Lord Haw Haw, the Germanpropaganda broadcaster. When he was announcing that wewould all starve, my father hurled a tomato at the radio.Ours had a very old-fashioned horn loudspeaker, and thetomato disappeared straight down it!

Silver paperOne bright morning, probably early in 1944, we went out toplay on Stanley Crescent and met an extraordinary sight.

The road and pavements were strewn with vast quantities of'silver paper.'

It was in the form of coils of fine strips of aluminium foil andit behaved in the same manner as the beginning of a snowstorm, the breeze bowling it along so that it formed curiousswirls in the road, and accumulated in the gutters.

We started gathering it up, to see how much we couldcollect. Having no use for it, we soon lost interest, and left itto the attention of the street sweepers.

What we didn't know until years afterwards was that this wasone of the major secrets of the war!

It was chaff, or 'Window.' There was a small squadron at RAFBodorgan devoted to carrying out radar experiments with thefoil. They were a success, used with great effect to simulatean armada of aircraft between Dover and Calais on D-Day.

EvacueesA number of evacuees were sent to the town. I remembertwo or three in our class.

They were accepted quite readily, but appeared to be quitesad individuals. For a short time, my aunt in Gilbert Streethad two much older boys billeted with her.

They were very pleasant, and one had a marvellous collectionof Dinky toys. They were pupils of Liverpool Alsop's HighSchool, sharing the County School premises with our localyoungsters.

The Alsop boys congregated in Church House and chapels inthe morning, using the school from 1.30pm-5.30pm Monday

O blastai crand i ffermyddgwledig, camwch drosdrothwy rhai o dai mwyaf

hanesyddol yr ardal

to Friday and 8.30am-12.30pm Saturday. The local CountySchool boys attended 8.30am until midday through the week.

Read more of Ken's wartime memories


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Gogledd Orllewin



Celebrating the end of the warLast updated: 26 April 2006

The end of the war wasgreeted with a level ofhappiness and celebration thatI have never seen since.

Attempts were made to repeat it on the first anniversary in1946, but it was a pale shadow, never attempted again, atleast not until the 50th Anniversary in 1995.

The town went wild, with servicemen singing and dancingthrough both days, becoming ever more boisterous towardsthe evening, when the beer flowed.

I started my VE Day decorating the street with flags. Dadwas asked to decorate Park School, and we went there with aladder to help him.

Church bells were to be rung at 3pm, after years of silence,and I was itching to ring Park School's bell. In 1938 and1939 it heralded our walk to school every morning, and wassilenced for the duration of the war, like all others.

Perhaps it should have been checked first, as it could havebeen in a dangerous condition. Never mind, when we finisheddecking out the flags, I took down the chain and hauled onthe bell.

It rang out loud and clear, and I received a shower of dust,filth, bird droppings and rust particles on my head! In asense, it was a preliminary farewell to early schooling. Thenext year would see a concentration on the 11 plus in myfinal year, followed by a fearful move to the County GrammarSchool.

At the end of the war we lived in Water Street, and we werepractically the only children there, so we joined the streetparty in Well Street. This was a huge and happy affair. Therewere plenty of cakes and jellies.

The mums worked miracles in the midst of rationing. TheVictory Queen visited us and joined in, and the sing-songsbegan. Some servicemen with guitars, including a Hawaiianguitar, came out of the New Harbour Inn in Water Street,and there was an impromptu concert on the pavement.

In the evening the street lights came on for the first timesince 1939, and we gathered round the central one in WellStreet, singing all the favourites of the time: Home in theWest, Don't Fence me in, Roll out the Barrel, Show me theway to go Home, We are the Bolsach Boys, and many others.





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VJ Day, weeks later on August 15, was an even happierrepeat performance, again with street parties and aspectacular evening on Newry Beach. It was one of thoseglorious sunny days with the sea flat calm by evening.

The empty paddling pool, now demolished in the latestrefurbishment, had a slate top in those days and a danceband was assembled there. It stood just in front of theMaritime Museum.

Coloured lights were strung along the lower promenade anddancing took place there until well after dark. The whole townappeared to be out, together with huge numbers of soldiers,sailors and airmen, celebrating their release from thepossibility of an early death.

The dancing was alternated with singing, and there werepleasure boats in the harbour. The ships moored out thereput on a spectacular fireworks display, firing off all theirVerey lights and starshells.

I watched all this from the steep bank by my friend's father'sboathouse, now the derelict Chandlery.

All inhibitions were thrown to the winds. Not only was it acelebration of the end of the war, but I think all of us reallybelieved that it was the end of all wars, and that peacewould reign for evermore. Would that it were so!

Strange that certain aspects of war could be so pleasurable.We suffered hardship, but what I miss most of all was thattremendous community spirit.

Everyone helped each other, there was virtually no stealing,and it was a genuine fact that doors could stand open andhouse interiors remain unmolested.

I hope fervently that it will not take a war or famine torestore that spirit. Many people are striving to capture thatsense of belonging and caring again.

I wish them well, and hope that future commemorations ofthe end of the Second World War, back in 1945, will be agreat success. Each would be another 'Victory' celebration, alegitimate triumph over the evil of fascism.

To the younger generation, recollection should not fosterBritish-German/Japanese antagonism, but should celebratethe release of those countries from their former tyranny.Above all, they should remind us to be vigilant and neverallow it to happen again. Return to the beginning of Ken's story

gwledig, camwch drosdrothwy rhai o dai mwyaf

hanesyddol yr ardal

goodes01

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