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At the History of Watton and Wayland in Pictures and in Words ~ Issue 1 April 2007

1.00 Only Available from

Edwards

High Street

Watton

To the first (and may be the last!) issue of Looking Back. Why the last? Well, it depends on your reaction to this issue! I have no idea whether you will find this publication as interesting as I think it is. I need to sell around 1,200 copies or more to make the venture sustainable. So, if you find it interesting, please let me and everyone else know and if you dont, then please tell me why. Tell me what I need to change to make it worth the 1 you paid for it. SO WHAT IS IT ALL ABOUT?

As many of you will know, I have been researching and collecting the history of RAF Watton and the town for the last 20 years. In that time I have amassed a collection of items from a variety of sources, some gifts and loans from old Wattonians and some purchases from places like Ebay. When we had a museum I was happy that people could view at least some of the collection but since its closure in 2000 the collection has continued to grow, but to what purpose? So I am trying this as a means to start making it all accessible. In many ways this is better than a museum, for example, the 2 booklets reproduced inside give a wealth of information about the town and the area and you would not be able to sit down and read them if they were on display in a cabinet! I hope to follow this venture up - if successful - with a web site and also some DVDs of the video and sound archives I have. I have gone for larger pictures where the quality of the original will support it which reduces the number per publication - do you agree thats the right thing to do? WHY DID I HAVE TO PAY FOR IT?

The Wayland News has always been free because the advertisers effectively pay for its production. But the amount of advertising out there is limited. I will not jeopardise the future of The Wayland News by diluting the limited advertising so you have had to pay a pound for this copy of Looking Back. I hope you think its worth it but either way let me know - PLEASE. CAN I CONTRIBUTE?

Absolutely!!! I am hoping that what you read here will trigger memories for you and I am hoping even more that you will find the time to sit down and write to me. ONLY WATTON?

No! Definitely not!! But I know very little about the villages history so I would very much welcome all the village historians and groups to get in touch and contribute to the publication. Sadly there is no money to pay for contributions, but if you want to get involved you will be very welcome indeed. AND FINALLY . . .

My contact details are on the back page if you do want to get in touch (please do!) and if successful then next issue should appear within two months. Thank you for your interest and I hope we will talk again soon. Julian Horn - publisher of Looking Back.

WELCOME SOME VIEWS OF THE HIGH STREET

The picture above is from a postcard sent in 1939 and shows the old pump still in place though the cattle trough down by the road side has gone. The picture of the same area below dates to some 40 years earlier. One of the things that is remarkable about the early photographs is the amount of detail in the picture. This is illustrated by the enlargement at the bottom taken from the picture below and others on the left and below are details showing the Crown Hotel Stabling (I think) and the Bull Hotel from pictures of similar or earlier date.

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WHAT DID

YOU THINK? The scans reproduced here are from the Official Town Guide, which although undated, is probably 1923 - 1924. A fascinating record of businesses and a good description of the locale make this book, for me at least, very interesting reading. But what did you think? As I said in the introduction, this issue is very much an experimental one. Do you find reproductions of the entire booklet better than say, a description with an extract or two and a list of advertisers? I would really like to know what you think so that I can judge and refine the content of future issues to be of more interest. Please write and tell me!

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A SHY GIRLS WAR

BY KATIE ADLAND

L ooking back through the years, Easter Monday 1940 always stands out. It was a personal D Day for me - a day etched in my memory forever. I caught a bus and made my way to the RAF Station near Norwich (RAF Watton) where I was to begin work. On arrival at the gates, I asked a kindly policeman where the NAAFI canteen was. He pointed to a building that was quite a distance away. I took one look through the gates and exclaimed, Do I have to walk past all those men? He replied My dear, youll see thousands of those before youve finished! He saw the look on my face and added, Dont worry, dear, Ill find someone to carry your case! He came back with a very shy airman, who I couldnt get a word out of, which made things even worse as there were catcalls, wolf whistles, and comments of all descriptions flying around. After what seemed like an eternity I arrived in the NAAFI with my case. Straight away I was put into what I thought was an absolutely shapeless uniform. The thing that amuses me now is that these uniforms are worn, practically the same, by nurses today. It was a royal blue cotton dress, belted at the back and straight through to the hem, with short sleeves and white piping. The only difference to the nurses uniform is that we had the NAAFI crest, Servientur Servietium, on the lapel. Case unpacked, uniform on, hair off the collar, I was in at the deep end. I barely had time to draw breath. The provisions for women on an essentially male Base were somewhat limited. Eight of us girls shared a dormitory together, so there wasnt a great deal of privacy. We each had a bed, locker and wardrobe, and the room had a radiator. Fortunately, we were in an RAF station that had been built before the war, on similar lines to all others built in the same period. We lived in relative luxury compared with the Nissen hut accommodation provided on later hastily built airfields, with only a cast iron stove for heat, linoleum floors, and biscuit mattresses to sleep on. Compared with what I had previously known in the village, the life on the base was a totally new experience for me. We had station concert parties, dances, and ENSA concerts (Every Night Something Awful) occasionally as well. There was an excellent pianist at the station, who regularly played Gershwins Rhapsody in Blue, and our own Station dance band with good musicians. We were allowed out after 9.30pm and during light summer evenings were granted a two hours extension to go out for a walk, so there was always a sense of something going on. It wasnt really possible to mix with the Airmen, because there was no real venue except on dance evenings twice a week. The Airmens Mess was the only one with sufficient space to hold dances, and their social life was mostly based around the canteen. The Officers had cocktail parties, and the Sergeants and other ranks held social gatherings. After the start of the war, however, civilians were not allowed on Air Force bases; so all socialising was purely among those on the base. There was a dance hall in the town - after a fashion. Dances were held in the saleroom where auctions were held. This was popularly known as the Sweat Box. On joining the air base, my initial hurdle was to get over my nerves. I soon learned to join in, and began to realise that I would have to get used to answering for myself. In the past, of course, my mother had always answered for me, and standing on my own two feet was a totally new experience. This didnt happen overnight. On the second evening after I started work in the canteen, there was a concert on the base. Someone had to go in and serve cigarettes and chocolates before the performance and during the interval, and I was delegated the job of Usherette. As it turned out, it wasnt so much that I was taking the money; it was more that the men were dropping their change onto the tray that was shaking in my hands. I was so frightened I didn't dare look up. One thing that did my self-confidence the world of good in the early days on the base was learning to dance. I found a willing teacher, and soon picked up the basics in the NAAFI canteen. I danced all the rest of my life while I was fit. Like my uncle before me, I loved to dance. In the past my partner at village hops had been the clod-hopping farming friend who wooed me with chocolates. He trod all over my toes and we made painful progress. Now, however, I was in the arms of a burly great RAF Flight Sergeant who had gallantly offered to escort me round the floor. He was a superb dancer, with a light step and a natural sense of rhythm, and I learned very quickly from him. I also learned very quickly to keep my feet out from under his! For the aircrew stationed on the base, the concerts and dances made something of a distraction from the nerve-racking business of flying. They certainly needed it. Like most civilians who joined up to serve in the war, I enrolled with very little idea of what life on an operational RAF base would actually entail. I was almost totally unprepared for being brought face to face with tragedy. Sadly this happened all too soon. The girls in the canteen were friendly with a young air gunner on the station, and about two weeks after I started work, we were all invited to his twenty-first birthday party. On the morning of the party, the crew of three, the pilot, navigator and the young air gunner whose birthday it was, went out on a mission in a Blenheim bomber. After they took off from the airfield the plane hit a tree and the fuel tank exploded into a fireball on impact. There were no survivors. The shattered stump of the tree still remains near the airfield. The first time I ever heard the RAF March Past was when I stood with my friends and watched those three coffins being carried out of the gates of the air base. For years I could not hear this without tears in my eyes. Somehow life went on, although this had been a dreadful first experience for all of us. Working in the canteen kept us fully occupied, but we usually found enough energy to have a social life at the end of our

duties. We didnt exactly have shifts; we worked all day from eight in the morning until nine-thirty at night, except for two hours off in the afternoon. Once a week we had tea duty in the afternoon, when we cleaned out the tea urns, and on that day we had two hours off in the evening instead. We had half a day off a week to ourselves, when we would go into Norwich shopping. When I started work I was earning fifteen shillings a week, which is the equivalent of seventy-five pence in todays money. I was mainly serving on the counter for the first two years. We opened the canteen up at lunchtime, and then again at five thirty in the evening, until nine thirty, except the Corporals bar which had an extension to open until ten oclock and serve alcoholic refreshments. I liked working in the beer bar, as it was rather out of the way of the rest of the canteen and we had more chance to chat with the men. We served suppers in the evening and catered for the ground crews and all others working on the base. Favourites were pie and beans and chips, and date slices. One day a young airman once asked me for a fig leaf, and I guessed he wanted a date slice! We also sold general requisites like razor blades, matches and cigarettes. I remember that in those days Players Tips were one shilling and six pence a packet. One of the things which always seems strange to me today is that we were given specific tasks to do in the NAAFI, such as putting out flying rations. These consisted of Kit Kats, boiled sweets and barley sugar, and we were told what time they would be picked up. With being a civilian, I hadnt sworn to the Official Secrets Act, and it has always struck me that this information about the timing of flights could have been a danger if there was a breach of security on the base. The enemy would know when our planes were coming. The girls in the canteen always knew who was going, because the men would come in at lunchtime, and tell us if it was an afternoon raid, or in the evening if it was a night raid, though they were briefed not to tell anyone where they were going. The station we were on was a complete Blenheim Station at that point, and we were constantly aware of the planes coming and going. At one point during the war, Lord Haw Haw announced on the radio (the wireless) that a successful bombing raid had been carried out on the base with much damage done and personnel killed. The truth of the matter was that a chicken coop had been blown up in the nearby village of Carbrooke, killing a hundred chickens, but this can hardly have been any consolation to listening relatives at the time! As bombing raids increased in intensity, flying missions inevitably took their toll of lives. It was always hard knowing a plane and its crew had gone down, but some losses were felt more keenly than others. There was one occasion in May 1940 when twelve planes went out, and only one returned to the base. You could have heard a pin drop in the canteen that night. One man turned on the radio, another turned it off. I dont think anyone knew how to break the silence. We stayed up at night to watch the planes return. This was the ill-fated Blenheim raid on Gembloux in France. During the Falklands War there was much made of the phrase We counted them out and we counted them in. We were staying up night after night to do exactly that. Like Guy Gibson, of Dambusters fame, one of the pilots who did not return that night had been in the habit of taking his dog, a golden Labrador, on missions. But the C.O. stopped it. The dog used to lie up on the airfield, waiting for him to come back. On this occasion, it lay up there for about four days. It refused water, and food. Then one evening, approaching dusk, a plane flew low over the airfield, and the officer in charge of the guns alerted the crew and gave the order to fire. Suddenly the dog started jumping up and down and barking in excitement. The officer in charge had the sense to tell the gunners to hold their fire. Somehow the Labrador had recognised that his owner was flying the plane. If the dog had not been left behind, they could have been killed as they returned. A few of the men who were shot down had parachuted out of their planes and were still fit to fly. They managed to commandeer planes to get them home, and some had landed at other airfields. We were so glad to welcome them back. Towards the end of May 1940, and about a fortnight before I had a weekend pass due, we realised that large numbers of army personnel were pouring into the base in a dishevelled state. They were sleeping temporarily on the floor between beds, then moving through to army camps. They seemed to be in an awful state, and they had no money, so the fellows in the RAF were paying for tea and we had permission to give food and drink, and a ration of cigarettes, and keep a record of this. I asked one poor fellow if hed been on an exercise. I got a filthy look in reply. I always wished afterwards that I could have seen him again and apologise for what Id said. There was a meeting of our own personnel, and the CO requested that we provided 24-hour service. This was obviously a voluntary thing. Each of us took six hours off in any twenty-four.

This lasted for two weeks. We had to do our washing and snatch sleep when we could when we were off duty. At the end of the fortnight, my weekend pass was due. I had had no time to write to my mother and father. I rang a family friend, as my mother hated telephones and wouldnt have one in the house, to tell them I would be coming home. On the way home there was a lot of talk on the bus about Dunkirk. I didnt like to ask what was going on. When I got into the house, my first question was Whats all the talk about Dunkirk? My mothers reply was You look as if you havent slept for ages, I suppose youve been dancing every night! I bit back the tears and changed the subject. I often felt throughout the war that if my mother did not want to

know about something, she would brush it under the carpet as if it didnt exist. After lunch, I excused myself and said Id like to go to bed. My mother brought me a cup of tea when my father came home, and asked if I would like to come down for dinner. My father looked at me while I was eating, and said, Youve had a tough time, havent you? I saw my mothers face. She didnt ask any questions or say any more to me. Later, I did hear her say to my father She doesnt talk at all. He said, Give her time. I didnt talk to my mother; because I found it difficult to do so after all I had been through. All she wanted to do was talk about the goings on in the village, which seemed so mundane after all that I had witnessed. She commented so often on how Id changed. It was impossible not to change under those conditions. I returned to the base, and life went on. Day after day we were losing friends we had made. At times it was almost unbearable. Through it all over the Tannoy, came Vera Lynn singing Its a lovely day tomorrow. If I have ever wanted to gag anyone, it was she. Not because I disliked her, but because of the song. It was so poignant.

Its a lovely day tomorrow, Its a lovely day tomorrow, Tomorrow is a lovely day. Come and feast your tear-dimmed eyes On tomorrows clear blue skies. If today your heart is weary And every little thing looks grey, Just forget your troubles And learn to say Tomorrow is a lovely day.

Several of the girls had fiances who were in France, and when the song Somewhere in France with you came over the air they would be in tears:

Somewhere in France There are two eyes, such blue eyes Come smiling at me They are lovely as a womans can be. I picture her love is somewhere Somewhere in France with you.

And when your letters come They bring a smile, a tear, Each one a sweet souvenir For shes one in a million who will never complain, For she knows that the sunshine will follow the rain, Every beat of her heart is somewhere, Somewhere in France with you.

One day, one of the airmen we knew well came in at lunchtime, shook hands with us all and wished us goodbye. So we said to him, Are you being posted? He said, No, Im off on an op. So we said Oh, well see you at teatime. He said, No, you wont. He was killed that afternoon. He must have known his chances of survival had been virtually non-existent. In the face of the odds, we almost had to stop feeling to be able to continue working. Life had become so uncertain for everyone on the base that folk would grasp at straws for some reassurance of what the future held. At that time we had a mother and daughter working with us, and the mother practiced reading teacups. Of course, being young and foolish, we all wanted our teacups read every mealtime. It was all tea leaves in those days, as we didnt have tea bags. The very same day as our friend was killed, at teatime, she read someones cup in the canteen. She put it down, and then she said, "I shall never read another. We were sure she must have seen his death. She was very friendly with the airmen, as in a mother and son relationship, and she stuck to her word, and would never read anyones teacup again.

The graves of Air Gunner Johnny Ball and Pilot Ian Stapledon at St Marys, Watton. It was the on the morning

of Johnnys 21st Party that he was killed at Merton

Reproduced below is the programme for celebrations for Christmas Day 1942 at RAF Watton. At this time the station was an advanced flying training unit.

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The Wayland News MARCH

1941 DONT FORGET YOUR

BLACKOUT TIMES SEE

PAGE 7 for March Times

NAZI PLANE BROUGHT DOWN AT OVINGTON WHOLE CREW TAKEN PRISONER BY DUDLEY BOWES AND FRANK WARNES

E. A. ADCOCK & SON Market Place, Watton. Telephone Watton 48

In spite of the shortages brought about by the present situation we are able to furnish you with the 1939 model

MURPHY ALL-WAVE SUPERHET

A B C Tuning - 50 Station Names in alphabetical order on long and medium waves, also list of short wave stations. Tone control. Gramophone jack on A.C. model. Cabinet finished in French and dark figured walnut. A.C. Model 12 Battery Model 11/10/- Every Murphy Set has a High Expectation of Life Only Murphy Dealer in WATTON and DISTRICT

Stationer and Newsagent Toy & Fancy Goods Depot

A. T. EDWARDS

HIGH STREET

WATTON PHONE 34

LOCAL VIEWS, MAPS, ETC. ALL MAKES OF CIGARETTES STOCKED

G.C. DURRANT

Grocer, Draper

And Outfitter

High Street, Watton

Noted for many things -

but mainly for our service.

At 0755 on Tuesday 18th February, a Nazi plane identified to us a Heinkel HE111 H3 of 4/KG 53, The Condor Legion, attacked RAF Watton from the South side of the airfield travelling North. The aircraft machine gunned the airfield and the Blenheim aircraft parked thereon, it also attacked the line of hangars and the areas where our brave boys are housed but fortunately no one was injured. A machine gun emplacement on top of the Airmans Mess on the northern side of the Norwich road valiantly returned fire but to no avail. Then, by what they modestly claim was great good fortune, the crew of gun-post F for Freddie who were having their breakfast on the pill box were able to fire off the airfield defence system know to locals as the fizzing onions but more correctly termed Parachute and Cable. This system, by great ingenuity of design, puts up, with the aid of rockets - the fizzing onions - a barrage of cables suspended by parachutes around the whole camp to a height of about 500 feet. The enemy plane flew into the forest of cables and, being badly damaged, was brought down on farmland at Ovington about one and a half miles north of the camp. The aircrafts final moments were witnessed by local men Dudley Bowes and Frank Warnes. Despite being armed only with a shotgun and a pitchfork between them, the men ran down to the site of the crash and, showing great bravery, took the whole five man crew prisoner. They have reported that on their arrival at the crash, the German crew were trying to ignite some of the fuel that had drained from damaged tanks into a ditch. To this end the crew were trying to set fire to it using a flare pistol from the aircraft, though they were unsuccessful. When taken into custody by the proper authorities, the Officers were taken to the RAF Station and the other ranks to the Police Station on Thetford Road corner. We understand from an eye witness that on arrival at the camp the men were taken to meet the CO and were shocked to be offered some tea and cake. It seems they had been convinced by Nazi propaganda that Britain was on her knees with little in the way of food etc. and with morale at a low ebb. We wish we could have seen their faces!! The aircraft was later taken away for investigation by the Air Ministry. It is expected that Messrs Bowes and Warnes will be mentioned in the London Gazette for their bravery.

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ODDITIES . . . ! In the collection of Wattonalia are one or two pictures that make you go Ummmmm! And 3 of the best are reproduced here. I have no idea of when, or why, but I would guess that having Studio Khyber located where Watton Earth (previously Doobree Wotsits) is now, probably puts this set of pictures in the late 50s or early 60s - would you remember when? As to the elephant, that must surely be from a visiting circus. I do remember the circus appearing from time to time on Hall & Palmers Meadow on Thetford Road where Tesco now stands, though I never went to a performance myself. Can you shed any light??

THE RAILWAY The railway first arrived in Watton on October 18th 1869 - or at least thats when the line was opened from Thetford to Roudham and from there to Watton where the line terminated. It was not until 6 years later that the Watton & Swaffham Railway Company completed the line the line to Swaffham, although for the first year only freight could be carried because of safety concerns! It was the regular means of transport for anyone attending Hammonds Grammar School at Swaffham or the Girls Grammar School at Thetford. If only we had that level of public transport in Watton today!!

The picture below shows Watton station in the mid 50s taken from the platform to Thetford.

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EDUCATION

Schooldays are the happiest days of your life . . . Or so the saying goes. For me, while at school, I thought that was just about the biggest piece of nonsense I had ever heard! Now however, looking back, it was (and is) probably true. In the immediate post war period of the late 1940s education in Watton was at the Area School, which was housed where the Junior School is now. The Headmaster, Mr. Rump, oversaw the reintroduction of the Floodlight magazine in September 1947. The first to printed since the outbreak of World War 2, the magazine gives a very good background on the state of the school and all it had been through during the war years. That is why I have chosen to reproduce it here as a foundation for what will follow in later issues of Looking Back. I hope you enjoy remembering some of the names!

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The picture below is from a set of colour slides taken, I think, in the mid 50s. If you recognise anyone please tell! (remember sandals!)

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HOW TO CONTACT LOOKING BACK You can contact Julian by ringing 01953 881 885. You can write to him at 32 High Street, Watton IP25 6AE Or email on julian@waylandnews.com I would welcome contributions and memories to the above address

All views expressed in Looking Back are published in good faith and believed to be correct. BUT you should not rely on the accuracy of any information for any reason without independently verifying it for yourself. While every care and effort is

made to ensure accuracy the publisher cannot accept responsibility for errors or omissions. This issue of Looking Back was published by :

Julian Horn, 32 High Street, Watton IP25 6AE and printed by: Rollmark (Dieletlit) Ltd., Howlett Way, Fison Industrial Estate, Thetford, Norfolk. Telephone 01842 754984

PICTURE PUZZLES. DO YOU KNOW WHO ANY OR EVEN ALL OF THEM ARE ??

Colin Livingstone found these two pictures amongst some family items and is puzzled to know where the crash was - it was probably local. Looking at the uniforms and the wreckage of the aircraft the date is probably in the early 1930s but might well be before then. Do you recognise the burial place - there is a thatched cottage behind the trees. And what was the aircraft? There was obviously a serious fire. But what was it, where was it and when was it?

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

A lucky dip from Dads (Wilf Horns) collection of old school photographs. Can you help identify the people on them? Picture 1 I have no idea about but picture 2 is at the Secondary Modern School in 1957 (according to the ball) the staff from left to right are Mr Horn, Mr Hebden, Mr Fairhead (headmaster) and Mr Harrand. Picture 3 must be a Nativity but no idea when. Picture 4 is from an Area Sports day with Mr Horn probably early 50s Picture 5 is a Christmas Dance with Mr Fairhead but at the Area School I think, Pictures 6 and 7 are some kind of event at the Secondary Modern School (now Wayland Community High School) and Mr Fairhead is addressing the school assembled in the front - but what was the occasion? If you can identify any of these please get in touch.