Tunbridge Wells in Wartime
Tunbridge Wells in Wartime
A boxful of fifty-year old letters, found while clearing out the attic, has produced an interesting contemporary account of the experiences of a young medical student evacuated to Tunbridge Wells in 1941. Two years into the War of 1939-1945 the Battle of Britain was over, but air-raids on Kent were still a possibility-
"There have been no warnings here for about ten days but we often hear planes at night and the searchlights are up, but no gunfire, so they must be our own going over on raids. There is a lot of daylight activity, however, fighters going on sweeps over France, I suppose."
The battle of the Titans was being fought between the Germans and the Russians for control of Russia -
"We can't put as much reliance on the snow stopping the Nazis as we are led to believe ... " October 18th, 1941 " ... these poor Russians seem to be having a bad time at the moment but I think they will hold out all right and if we supply the materials they will be able to start a general offensive". October 26th. "I don't think a large scale invasion of the Continent is practicable at the moment .... we should make small raids from Norway to Bordeaux and also in Italy. It would give courage to the oppressed people and keep the Germans and Italians guessing".
Three years before the Normandy landings -
"A general meeting was held in the dissecting rooms .... all those in favour of opening a second front on the continent signed a petition which was sent to Whitehall. It's probably in the Salvage by this time".
At the beginning of December the outlook seemed still grimmer -
"The Germans are sure to start blitzing again now that Japan has attacked America ... we have lost the battleship Prince of Wales and the battlecruiser Repulse .... I hope the Japanese aren't able to cut the Burma road ... add ten years to the end of the war and it'll be about right".
On September 29th, 1941, the homesick seventeen year old arrived at his digs in pouring rain in London Road, Tunbridge Wells, to begin his medical studies at Sherwood Park in Greggswood Road, today the Headquarters of the Tunbridge Wells Health Authority. It belonged in the inter-war years to Sir William Siemens, the industrialist, before Guy's used it for its Medical School. It had been developed as a Spa for the town. (My thanks to Geoffrey Copus for this information). The town was crowded with "Students, civil servants and evacuees". Dig had not been easy to find: his total income was £85 a year for fees and clothes. A bicycle, essential for mobility, cost £2.15.0. second hand. ("They are so difficult to get now") but its defective brakes and ancient tyres gave constant trouble.
"Returning home from Home Guard duty'' he wrote, "it had snowed quite heavily'' and, coming down the main street he skidded in the snow and the rifle he was carrying on his back knocked off the cap of a passing army officer -"He thought I was a soldier and started to curse me, I scooted off as fast as I could".
"We were told all persons over 18 must join the Civil Defence Service or the Home Guard". Although he was not 18 until the following January, he joined Guy's own Company of the Home Guard. -
"We were issued with rifles, bayonets, belts, but no uniforms as yet ... I don't suppose there will ever be an invasion but they all talked as if there would be".
Soon he was one of the Fire Picket all night from 8 pm to 7 am, at one of the houses in Sherwood Park. Later -
"Nothing but H.G. all the week .... we have now been issued with 20 rounds of ammunition to keep at home now in case a parachutist comes down the chimney . ... On Saturday went to the ranges for shooting, about six miles away ... the track was camouflaged by snow, my bike was falling to pieces ... I got three bulls out of five shots. Last night shooting at an indoor miniature range. Another parade this afternoon. This week all the Home Guard have to turn out for field exercises for the whole day. I hope they supply the food."
Food was strictly rationed: "Poor lunch, rotten tea, a very rotten supper". Only two eggs in three months. Later, new digs in Pembury where hens were kept, produced eggs almost every day.
Towards the end of 1941, heavy rain turned to snow - "I don't think I have ever been in a colder place than Tunbridge Wells ". In the New Year severe frost made skating possible for some weeks.
His first year medical studies followed the usual pattern of lectures and demonstrations -
"We have a Viva tomorrow on the Abdomen - general Topography of Viscera including surface markings .... we have dissecting in all our spare time and Viva is taken after the completion of each part. I don't like Anatomy at all, although some fellows wallow in it. I remember the first day we went into the dissecting rooms, it seemed horrible ... but I soon got over it".
The Organic Chemistry Professor -"Told us he had discovered Mustard Gas during the last war (1914-1918) and also T.N.T. the explosive. He's the most harmless old fellow you could meet, with pince-nez".
One great new medical advance was about to begin: the blood transfusion service. He wrote -"They stick a needle in you, squeeze out a drop of blood in a small tube and then you get a card in a few days .... and when they want you, they send for you".
There were opportunities to get away from Tunbridge Wells - to play rugby at Tonbridge against a local team and against Sevenoaks School, and to cycle to London and back. In Lewisham he noticed "The old cobblestones .... the trams grinding along .... no names anywhere ... I didn't know whether I had passed Bromley. I saw the church (Bromley Parish Church), or what's left of it. Did it have a direct hit? (It had received a direct hit - one of the most promising prefects of the former Girls' Grammar School was killed fire-watching inside the church) As time passed, the weather improved with the coming of spring, he became less homesick; letters became less frequent and eventually ceased altogether.
He eventually became a Consultant at the now closed Dreadnought Seamens' Hospital at Greenwich. He died in his early fifties - perhaps from the results of excessive smoking. His letters mention virtual chain-smoking all the time.
Joy Saynor