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Recollections of a Wartime Childhood by Brenda Davies (nee Jones)
of Hillside, Bucknell, Shropshire

I was born at “Underhill” Lloyney in the parish of Beguildy in 1928.

This parish, in the Teme Valley, tho’ in Radnorshire, bordered the parish of Llanfair-Waterdine in South Shropshire. The upper River Teme being the boundary.

Lloyney is a small hamlet, 4 miles from the market town of Knighton, and just half a mile from Llanfair-Waterdine village where I attended the local primary school, now closed.

The following account of my “Recollections of a Wartime Childhood” was first published in a booklet “Portrait of a Parish” which my sister Jocelyn Williams, and I wrote to help raise money for the repair of St Marys Church Roof in Llanfair Waterdine in 1988.

Following the outbreak of war in 1939, the pattern and pace of life in the villages and parish was never to be the same again. No one will forget the morning of September 3rd when the dreaded announcement came over the air to those who possessed a “wireless” battery-powered. Until that time, each week, each year was very like the last — unchanging.

Thursday was market day in Knighton — and those wishing to travel there, unless they walked, rode or cycled, were transported at varying intervals during the day by Owens’ buses of Knighton, driven either by Mr Tommy Owen, or by Jack or Alf, his patient, helpful drivers. The shoppers returning, complete with brimming bags and baskets, filled the bus to overflowing — many clutching onto the overhead rail that was there for that purpose, and taking care not to upset the pile of wireless batteries which were packed around the driver and full of lethal acid!

Petrol being rationed, the bus service was the lifeline of the valley. Only cars on essential business were permitted petrol — and these were rarely seen after nightfall or could be seen because of the slatted masks attached over each headlamp to diminish any light which may attract the attention of enemy aircraft overhead!

The early war years were very grim — when Paris fell, followed by the retreat from Dunkirk, the threat of invasion became very real and imminent.

Our parents listened very anxiously to every news item on the wireless and we were made to sit quietly and without speaking until “The News” was over. Most households had a war map on a wall, ours was “The News Chronicle Map” — and our father daily plotted with flagged pins, the positions of all the armies.

The Siegfried and Magino Lines were strategic positions and war songs were very popular. “We’ll hang out our washing on the Seigfried Line” we sang with gusto. “Coming in on a Wing and a Prayer”, Lili Marlene”, and “There’ll be Blue Birds over the White Cliffs of Dover” we sang with more conviction than the situation at that time warranted. Vera Lynn was the sweetheart of us all, her “We’ll meet again” filled us with hope — today, we hear it with nostalgia — “Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye” was another of her war time favourites. Winston Churchill, too, with his emphatic, inspiring oratories, boosted our morale and we were at the ready to join with him in fighting them “in the fields, in the street, and in the hills” — we would never surrender.

The “Black Out” was taken very seriously — gone were the days of lace and brocade curtains, and in came the heavy, plain calicos and linens of black and brown which sombrely hung from every window to conceal any hint of light. Our father, being the local A.R.P. Warden (Air Raid Precaution), made it crucial that no trace of light be perceived from our windows!

How well we remember the old oil and Tilley lamps being subtly turned down as the feared drone of enemy aircraft — Messerchmitts, we thought — loomed over the hills each night with their load of bombs en-route for Liverpool or Swansea; and how night after night we lay awake watching the encircling shafts of light illuminating the sky beamed from searchlights near and far. (The nearest being at Chapel Lawn and Presteigne.) Sundays, too, changed, now no longer days of rest, though, thankfully, still of worship.

At 2 pm promptly the local “Dad’s Army” was on parade in the school yard, and many was the mock battle which raged on the Sabbath day!

These raw rural recruits were licked into shape, initially, under the expertise of those who had fought in the first World War. Colonel Cummins “Major” Paterson and “Sergeant” Penry Evans — and then later, by Fred Beavan.

The regular army, too, well camouflaged, was often encountered in the highways and byways, adding drama to the scene.

Another army who came into our midst, though with more attraction and less aggression than the previous two, were the girls of the Women’s Land Army. These young members of the fair sex, mainly recruited from the inner cities to “lend a hand on the land” settled into the local farms and neighbourhood with favourable results in every sense of the word!

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