The Alleged Dark
Days by Gordon "Annie" Laurie first published in "The
Canal"
You ask, in your
latest edition of THE CANAL, for which I thank you, for some reminiscences
of the early days at Elmbridge, so if this is the sort of thing
you want I am only too happy to oblige, but be warned, English
was never my good subject. Come to think of it, I don't know if
I had one.
At eight o'clock
on a cold., damp February morning in1940, about 200 or so assorted
boys between the ages of 11 and 14 boarded the green Grasshopper
coaches at Loxford School, Ilford, while some of their parents
stood glum or sobbed as mine did at' the thought of parting with
their brats
When we arrived at Elmbridge, we assembled on the dining hall
verandah, with the smallest at the front, to survey the scene
of desolation. It had snowed few days earlier and the thaw had
left acres of sticky orange clay which surrounded the wooden huts
which were and in part, still are the school. Being one of the
smallest I was first into the dining hall, where we collected
heaped plates of hot food. Then we posed for a battery of cameras
for the national press. Needless to say, the quality and quantity
of the food deteriorated quickly in the days. months and years
that followed, but on looking back it was only to be expected
in what is now called "the dark days."
The first night was
quite an affair, with the wailing of the homesick and the wag
who dragged a fur glove on a piece of cotton from one end of the
dormitory to the other, suggesting the place was alive with rats.
In future years this practice greeted each new intake, much to
their horror and our delight.
In the late spring,
the whole School was employed in digging slit trenches three feet
deep along the line of the (late) dividing hedge. These were to
serve as Air Raid Shelters later in that year. When the whistles
blew, everyone made a mad dash to the trenches, not so much for
protection from enemy action as to secure a good place where the
view of the sky was not obstructed by over-hanging trees. Many
an hour was spent sitting in our trench watching the Battle of
Britain unfold in the sky around Cranleigh. If friend or foe had
the misfortune to crash .within five or so miles of Elmbridge,
at the first opportunity most of the school would make a beeline
for the spot in their quest for souvenirs, which meant anything
from ammunition to part wings: etc. Fortunately for the war effort,
the police or military generally managed to get there first, but
had a hard time protecting their find once "the gang"
arrived.
One day in late September,
my form had just finished PT and were about to change when the
noise of aircraft and machine gun fire sent us all out of the
wash rooms to see what was going on. Our way was barred however,
by Mr Lance, one of the older members of Staff. I am sorry to
say, to our discredit, he was trampled under foot so that we could
all see a Dornier 17 at 400 feet trying to shake off the attentions
of a pursuing Spitfire. Needless to say, Mr Lance and the Headmaster,
Mr Clarke were "not amused" and made the point quite
clear!.
I started to write
a few lines, but there are a host of incidents-in the early years,
such as "the exploding hand grenade", the "bad,
bad fish" and "the Christmas rebellion" and so
on. If what has gone before is of any use to you, the best of
luck. 'if not you can always dump it in the Wey and Arun canal
instead.
Gordon (Annie) Laurie
(Forest House 1940-43)
Note from "The
Canal" editor
I feel I cannot carry on with "THE CANAL" without thanking
Gordon for an article which proves that Elmbridge has not changed
as much as all that! It also shows that his English is not as
bad as he says either. Personally I hope Gordon will agree to
continue his story in the next CANAL. "The Christmas Rebellion"
is something I cannot wait to hear about. Even in my time (1958-63)
we had out revolts. I shall never forget the "Scrambled Egg
Revolt" for instance which I might get round to writing about
if ever we have the space MH
THE ELMBRIDGE STORY
PART 2
Christmas 1940 was
a time, as most people will know, when London was on the receiving
end of nightly bombing, and in view of this, the inmates of Elmbridge
were not allowed home for the holidays.
Parties were arranged by each House to be held in the dormitories
on Christmas Day, and we in Forest even composed a song to the
tune of "In The Mood" with the words of the first two
lines of the chorus reading: cakes and jelly jam and biscuits
- an apple too; Marmalade and honey and cocoa for you". All
things considered we had a good time.
At breakfast on Christmas morning all the tables were arranged
in a rectangle stretching the full length of the hall and on each
table there was a menu (the first and last I remember seeing).
The choice of cornflakes OR porridge went down very well; then
the advertised egg sausage AND bacon appeared minus the bacon,
which caused one or two of the boys to mumble "we want our
bacon, and within seconds the chant was taken up by the whole
school.
STAFF SUPPRESSION
The staff not on duty in the dining hall streamed out of their
staff room and suppressed the noise at one end of the hall only
to find that at the other end of the hall there were feet, cups
and hands plus the chant all in unison. Like an undisciplined
Army, all the Staff rushed to the Abbey and Fairlop end only to
find that the Roding and Forest mob had taken up the chant. It
took a full ten minutes before order was restored - and we never
got the bacon but it was great fun while it lasted.
While on the subject of food (?) "the bad fish" must
rank as one of the classic remarks of my era. It was late in 1941,
when the war situation was about as bad as it could have been
and the country had it’s back well against the wall, that
the incident happened
STRONG SMELL:: Fish.
peas and mashed potatoes were the offering at this particular
lunch time but to most of the boys the fish had, to say the least
a strong smell and to others it STUNK. Very little of the fish
was eaten in spite of the threats that until it was there would
be no pudding. Still the majority held fast and as a result no
pudding was served and all the school were ordered to march to
the assembly hall and sit down and woe betide the boy who uttered
a sound.
After a few minutes
the kitchen porters brought in three large tin baths full of the
disputed fish and placed them in front of the stage. Much to our
disgust it didn’t get up and walk out by itself. The headmaster,
Mr A.E.Clarke, then appeared and stood glaring first at the fish
and then at us. A pin dropping would have sounded like and earthquake
in that hushed hall.
WANTON WASTE The
silence was broken by the head, who said (and I quote) "This
is a wicked wanton waste in war time, when sailors risked their
lives to get this…" Before he could finish, from the
back of the assembled school came the brisk retort "And we
risk our lives to eat it" When the giggling had subsided,
the red faced Head demanded to know who had the impudence to make
such a remark. Silence reigned and officially it was never revealed
who the culprit was. But it was generally accepted that a certain
Richard Harris of Roding was the author of that Elmbridge gem.
By the way, the pudding that we missed at lunch was served for
tea that same day.
EXPLODING HAND-GRENADE
The exploding hand-grenade was a far more serious incident. Most
of boys in those days collected shrapnel, bullets, cartridge cases
and, in fact, anything lying about on Hascombe Hill, which was
a maze of small arms and tank ranges. The hand-grenade was one
of a number known to be about the School and it’s new owners
had unscrewed the filler cap and emptied most of the cordite chips
which formed the main explosive. This was set alight some-where
down by the canal and, as expected it burned quite brightly, but
of course did not explode, as it was not contained. Some days
later; just after lunch, a large explosion came from the area
of Abbey House boot room and two or three boys were helped out.
one on a stretcher suffering from shock and shrapnel wounds in
the legs. I understand that one of the victims still has a limp
to this day.
Inside the dormitory. when the smoke had cleared, a hole was found
in the floor and a number of holes had appeared in the walls.
Perhaps Mr.Jackson can confirm, this as I seem to remember, he
was occupying the adjacent room at that time. (He can - Editor)
Next day, the purge
was on and a general amnesty was called, so that all such souvenirs
could be placed on the assembly hall stage with the promise that
if you could lift it and it was on the stage by 10am the following
Saturday, no questions would be asked. The response was fantastic
and, as at that time I was a prefect responsible for the hall
I had to spend most of my leisure time looking after the stuff.
FINAL COUNT The final
count escapes me, but we had boxes of shrapnel, assorted ammunition
including 3.03 and 0.5, a tommy gun plus many aircraft parts and
far more lethal equipment. On the Saturday it was all taken away,
and we had a talk by an Army Officer who warned us never to be
caught with such gear again in or out of School or on the ranges.
Needless to say it was a challenge to many of us to collect all
we could without being caught, a practice I do not recommend for
later experiences with explosives have taught me to respect it,
and the incident at Cranleigh was a good start
Since starting to write this, a good friend of mine from the Elmbridge
days, Bob Wright has told me that the bacon incident was in 1941,
and as we have been the best of chums for just on 30 years, which
may in itself be a record, I am not going to argue.
Annie
Gordon Laurie
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