War Time

A Memory of Corsham.

I have many memories of the wartime years spent in Corsham. My father was in the Ordnance Corps and served under Colonel Cripps at the Central Ammunition Depot. Up to about 1943 we were billeted at a farm but after that with a Mrs Harvey in Bences Lane and this is where my memories begin. I recall being in a queue for our meat rations and it starting to rain and feeling very secure and dry as there was an overhang that protected my mother and me. A few years ago I visited the Information Centre at Corsham. They confirmed that there had been a butcher at the place I recalled and that a carved piece of stone work from the original building was now incorporated in the new building. I was told that there was an abattoir nearby.

I also remember going out with my mother, probably to Box Hill, as fighters raced around the sky. This was probably about 1945 as I was fascinated by finding pile after pile of tinfoil all over the ground. This was flutter that was dropped out of aircraft and as it fluttered down was supposed to confuse the radar tracking of planes. I have no idea whether it was British or German flutter.

Finally I have one memory that is imprinted on me - almost literally. It related to the arival of American troops and the Invasion of Europe. Bences Lane at that time backed on to some big estate and across the land lay the Bath Road. I had had strong warnings NEVER to go to the big road but on one morning curiosity got the better of me and together with a boy who lived a few houses away we climbed the wall, crossed the land and then climbed the wall on the other side. We stood on the grass verge and watched hundreds of trucks pass by each carrying lots of GIs. Each convoy had jeeps at the front and tail and no sooner had one convoy passed then another appeared. It was in fact very dangerous as I have subsequently read that the drivers were under strict orders not to stop for anything. When my parents learned of my escapade I received the thrashing of my life. The only one I ever had, come to think of it. I was probably three or four at the time.

As I write this I also recall going to school in Corsham probably in 1946 when I would have been five. It was a one room school with only one teacher and children of all ages. I remember having one of the older children teaching me to read. The youngest were in the front row. When my father was demobilised we moved to his home town, Wolverhampton, where I grew up until I emigrated to Canada in 1967.

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