91�ȱ�

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Marcus Heald, 91�ȱ� Guide at the 91�ȱ� Open Centre in Hull on behalf of Alfred Robert Shearsmith and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

It was the last week in August 1939, war with Germany was imminent, to quote the late comedian, Robb Wilton, “What was I going to do about it?” I was nineteen years old, my feet and legs were crippled at birth, although by this time I was reasonably fit, but not fit enough for military service. This state of affairs was proved in February 1940 when I was called up and rejected as Grade Three. Bearing this in mind and being full of youthful enthusiasm to defend the continued freedom of our small island at all costs, I joined the Air Raid Wardens Service, three days before war was declared on September 3rd. 1939.

After a short period of initial intensive training in the “What to expect category” such as types of poisonous gas, heavy bombs etc, I received a steel helmet, whistle and gas mask and was assigned to a Wardens Post, not far from home. This temporary shelter was a poor affair of timbered construction surrounded by sandbags, giving little protection. Inside, it was a small and cramped, no room to swing a mouse round let alone a cat!

My first early morning patrol was fairly amusing because at the time everyone had a “watch out for spy’s” fixation. They could be anywhere, under the bed, listening at keyholes, under man-hole covers, imagination ran riot. As we continued our patrol we were approaching a railway bridge, when my middle-aged colleague froze and suddenly exclaimed “Someone is signalling to the enemy from the bridge”. As we moved closer to this shady apparition, my companion asked about my fist fighting prowess. By nature, not being of a violent disposition, my answer did not inspire confidence, but even an unknown hidden quality may rise to the surface if faced with danger. As it turned out my depths of unknown quality stayed put, the apparition was a Special Constable enjoying a crafty smoke, but he still received a lecture about the danger of showing lights even though dawn was breaking.

In all walks of life there is always a ‘ONE’, a character who stands out above all others, sometimes to the detriment of his colleagues. On our Post we had and suffered such a “ONE”, a typical ‘Hedges’ of Dad’s Army fame. Tall, hefty, loud of mouth, with the name typically of ‘Barker’, he was mustard to be on patrol with, hot on lights showing after ‘blackout’ time. One incident stands out in memory.

It was a very black night as we patrolled down our own street, a neighbour had taken key out of front door, through which showed a faint horizontal light, which I was prepared to ignore. Not the ‘Barker’, he thundered on said door, hollering “Put that ruddy light out!” Whereupon the small inoffensive resident asked “What light?” “Through your ruddy keyhole!” was the reply. I couldn’t stop laughing when relating this incident to my parents.

According to ‘Barker’s’ wife, he spent seven nights a week on Wardens Duty, we knew different. Situated opposite the Post was an off-licence shop managed by a very plain looking spinster where he was living the life of ‘Riley’ on free drinks etc. most nights, until some time later they both disappeared together. Now, over fifty years later, he will no doubt be on duty at the ‘Big Warden’s Post’ in the sky. May heaven help the angels and their star lights, they wouldn’t have a halo big enough for him.

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