Slinfold In The War Years

A Memory of Slinfold.

I visited this site and was intrigued to find pictures of Slinfold. One of them, the village hall, recalled the time when I belonged to a village group called The Stane Street Players run by Mrs Knibbs. We performed plays there and at other village halls nearby. Not far away, on the other side of the road, was a sweet and tobacconist shop run by a Mr Pescod.. Further down on the same side was a butcher’s shop. The old school was on the other side. The village general stores and post office opposeite the pub were run by Miss C.C. Dawe. My Mother and I, together with an Aunt and Uncle, moved there in 1939 after war had been declared. Our house was called Suncote on the corner opposite the railway station. It was rented from the local squire, Major St John. There was no mains water, gas or electricity but a telephone was installed. Water came from a well and drawn into the kitchen sink by a very old fashioned hand pump. Sewage went into a cesspool in an adjoining field which the Council pumped out from time to time. The effluent was then spread over the grass. Lighting came from a Tilley lamp, candles and oil lamps. Heating from grates filled with coal or wood. Cooking was done on a paraffin or kerosene range. A large house next door named Broadview was once the station hotel in more prosperous days. Trains ran from Slinfold station at convenient times to Horsham via Christ’s Hospital. There was a level crossing about 50 yards from the platform which gave access to the timber yard, former brickworks and main road. (I learned that the Beeching Axe closed the station in 1965). I played football and cricket for the village team. On Bank Holidays, a well known London Hospital would be invited to play cricket against our team. The ladies formed a very successful stool ball team. I found a job in Horsham at an estate agent and cycled there and back every day. Very often I rode with Fred Dinnage, the son of the village chimney sweep. He later joined the Royal Air Force but sadly was reported missing over the North Sea. Times became harder when rationing started. The year was 1940 and the peaceful village was about to experience the affects of the war. The rattle of gunfire could be heard from above and the sky was criss crossed by vapour trails left by dog fights. Children picked up empty cartridge cases in the road. Planes pouring smoke crashed to the ground. An occasional parachutist ejected and drifted eerily to the ground. Air raid sirens could be heard and black out curtains were compulsory cover for windows. Air raid wardens were vigilant in knocking at houses showing any glint of light. Army units were encamped close by the village and it was commonplace to see tanks on the roads. Low loaders carrying the remains of crashed aircraft were frequently seen going along Stane Street on their way to Faygate where they were dumped in a compound. We had several Canadian and London Yeomanry soldiers imposed on us. Children were evacuated from London and youngsters from Peckham were billeted on to us. At seventeen I felt I had to help and joined the Local Defence Volunteers which later became the Home Guard. We were equipped with out of date First World War guns, khaki uniforms, boots and tin hats. Great coats came later. Firing exercises were held and we learned how to use Molotov cocktails. A rota was compiled which detailed who was to go on duty during evenings and night time. When not on call we slept on the floor of someone’s private house. Every night the local area was patrolled. The main route was up Hayes Lane to the top of the hill. People were very kind and a number of large houses laid out drinks of tea and sandwiches. Generally I was accompanied by a Mr Bright who lived in a large house named Amberfield just off the station road near to us. He was a solicitor and still commuted to London twice a week by train formally dressed in a bowler hat. As Home Guards, our main purpose was to watch for possible enemy parachutists and the main viewpoint was a water tower at the top of Hayes Lane high on the hill. Often we looked up with horror at droves of planes passing over to bomb London. We heard them returning leaving the horizon ablaze with red. On one clear moonlit night we suddenly heard the unmistakeable sound of a Heinkel bomber and the screech of bombs coming down. We dived into a ditch and the ground vibrated with about five thumps. You can imagine our shock when we went up a lane to find the haystack, under which we usually rested for a Thermos of coffee, received a direct hit. Later we were told most of the bombs did not detonate. About that time I was approaching eighteen years of age and volunteered for the Royal Air Force. I spent the rest of the war in the Far East and finally returned from Japan to Slinfold. I was anxious to find work. The station master told me a factory had opened up in the disused brickfield over the railway line and suggested staff might be required. I went for an interview and was accepted as a wages clerk. The Company was called Harrison and Barton Limited and made all kinds of concrete products. Being only a few hundred yards away, it was in easy walking distance from home. I was happily employed there for a number of years. After the family died, I decided to leave Slinfold to work in London.