STREETLY,
STAFFORDSHIRE
MEMORIES
(1936 - 1961)
WEDNESDAY 24th
JANUARY 1945
-
AND CHRISTMAS
HAS GONE
-
by Chris Myers
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Wednesday 24th January 1945
Well, Christmas and the New Year came, and then
it went.
It's weeks ago now and I had better tell you
about it before I forget everything. It was all
about the same as I expected, here at our house
on the Chester Road
in Streetly. But still
super. Father Christmas came to me as he always
does (despite me not being quite sure about who he really is)
and I had all sorts of lovely things in a big,
bulging pillow case.
And he left my sister Sheila an apple and little
bar of chocolate in her sock. She seemed happy
enough with that, though, as usual. Then later
in the morning we opened our main presents, as
we always do. And the postman called and had his
glass of sherry. I think he had had one or two
in other houses as well. And Bob, my sister's
G.I. friend, arrived from his camp at Pheasey.
He must have walked here.
 So five of us sat down to our Christmas dinner,
Mum and Dad, Sheila, Bob and me. Bob sat
opposite me and as usual I admired his smooth,
smart uniform which I always think is very
different from Dad's itchy, rough battledress
which he used to wear in the Home Guard. And the
one that my big brother wears in the Royal
Artillery. This is a picture of him in his,
with Mum, from when he was called up in 1942. (I know
uniforms like that are itchy because my brother's
school cadet uniform still lives in a cupboard
in the bathroom and I sometimes put it on and
pretend to be a real soldier. The Home Guard one
has been put away now but it's the same, not very
nice, khaki
material. Bob's is so smooth and more of a browny
colour). Anyway, I was able to watch him
eat in the funny way which he does, using just
the fork and leaving the knife resting on the side of
the plate, ready to be used if it’s needed. Dad
says that’s how Americans do it. It’s not
because Bob doesn’t know his table manners,
apparently. They
won’t let me eat like that though and I'd really
like to try.
 Bob was sitting on the
opposite side of the dining table to me. With
his back to the fireplace where, as usual, the fire
was blazing away. It used to be my brother's place
at the table,
before he went away. That was two years ago, now.
This picture shows him and me, when he was home on
leave for the last time before sailing away and we
haven't seen him since. I bet his Christmas wasn't as
comfortable as ours and Bob's. Although Bob had done
his bit in the fighting as well, in Normandy where
he was injured and got sent back to England. Now I
come to think about it, he was in Grandpa's place as
well. That's where Grandpa used to sit on a
Sunday when he came for his tea and I used to watch
him putting anchovy sauce onto his hot toast
because that was one of his favourites. Poor
Grandpa, he got bombed out of his home in Handsworth
which made him poorly and then he died. That
was in 1940. I was only four then and so I can
hardly remember what he looked like. But I do
remember the anchovy toast! And I know that the
grandfather clock, there with us in the dining room
ticking away while we ate our Christmas dinner, used
to be his as well, so we never forget him. I
expect that Dad and Mum were probably thinking of
both Graham and Grandpa and wishing that they could
have been with us. But it was nice to have Bob with
us instead.
We had a cockerel. This is really a large
chicken. It was lovely. Chicken is always a big
treat, and we don't have it very often. It's
normally a bit of beef or lamb or pork on a
Sunday. Chicken is just for special occasions. I
love it. It tastes a bit like rabbit, only
better. And you get a wishbone which is often
given to me and then I have to think quickly and
decide what I'm going to wish for. Usually it's
a bit of Hornby. Sometimes Mum gets it and I bet
she doesn't wish for anything like that.
Probably she wishes for my brother to come home
safely. Of course, no one ever knows because if
you tell anybody what you wish for, it will
never come true.
I think we had chicken last year as well. This
was a bit unusual because we normally had goose
before that and then there was always a
discussion about who should have the Parson's
Nose. Ever since I found out exactly what it
was, I can’t think why anybody might want it. I
certainly wouldn’t. The goose used to come
through the post all the way from
South Devon.
Not alive of course and flapping its wings and
coming by airmail. (That's a joke). No, it came
in a cardboard box,
all ready for the oven, without its feathers and
with onions and other vegetables all around it
and stuffing inside. It was sent by
Mr. and Mrs.
Cummings who are farmers in a village called
Sherford where we used to go for our summer
holidays. But last year there was a disaster.
The post was very slow and the weather was warm.
So when the parcel arrived, it STANK and Dad had
to bury our lovely Christmas dinner in the
garden. He must have been pretty fed up about
that. After Christmas he wrote and told Mr. and
Mrs. Cummings that it had arrived safely and
that it was absolutely delicious. That was when
I learned that sometimes you are allowed to fib
if your intentions are good and it is the
kindest thing to do.
But no goose at all from them this year. We know
why. They had to move out of their
farmhouse last month, with all their animals and machinery
and everything, to a cottage in
Frogmore. It's the same for all their
neighbours in their area. Something to do with
the war. I think it's a secret but the Americans
need the land. Not Bob, of course, because he's
at Pheasey.
Anyway, after the lovely chicken and Christmas
pudding (which, as I told you before, I helped
Mum to make weeks ago when I was allowed to lick
the spoon) and tinned peaches which Bob had
brought, we all moved into the lounge where a
fire had been lit as well and so it was warm and comfy
and everyone could stretch out on the two big
settees. Although of course I sat on the floor
where you can spread out a bit with your things.
Just like Rex, our dog, although he does it on
the rug right in front of the fire. He probably
got an extra Boneo because it was Christmas Day. We played
games, and listened to the wireless, the
grown-ups talked, as they always do, and I read
some of my new books. As it got dark we drew the
curtains and started to feel really cosy. (That's
all we have to do, now, just draw them to, no
blackout screens to put up any more. I bet Dad hasn't got rid of them yet, though, just in
case). And later Mrs. Bacon from
next door came around with Elizabeth. Elizabeth
is still only four but she'll be five in March.
She can't remember her Dad at all because he's been
away for so long. We had Christmas cake and cups of
tea and Mum produced a box of dates. I'm not sure if
I have ever had these before. They have a funny
taste and huge stones which you have to spit out. I
think I quite like them although there are things
which I would rather have like chocolate biscuits
and sweets. But the grown-ups felt that they were a
big treat. And they talked about something called
glacé fruit which is bits of fruit covered in sugar
and it sounds absolutely super. But I don't think I
have ever seen that. Not to remember, anyway.
**********
So that was Christmas.
Everything has been cleared away now. The ornaments
and paper chains and tree lights and those big
colourful paper balls which are flat until you open
them out are all back in their box up in the loft.
And the tree and mistletoe and bits of holly are in
the garden, ready to go on the bonfire when the
weather is dry enough. I think we can have evening
bonfires now. And Dad has taken the masks off the
car's headlamps. For me it's back to my normal life
- Monday to Friday at school and then the weekends,
thank goodness, when I can do what I want. Poor old
Dad still has to go to work on a Saturday morning
though. I'm not sure I want to grow up! I'm
quite happy only working a five-day-week.
**********
And what of my brother, Graham? He's still in
the mountains in northern
Italy. Up to a
couple of weeks ago in a tiny village called
Belvedere at the
top of a hill where he had been
for weeks. This is the place. He slept in a ruined house, then.
He called it a hovel. But it was better than the
tent he started off in.
It stayed fairly quiet but it was cold and
miserable and sometimes very wet and muddy so
that the vehicles often got stuck.
Even so the
food still mainly got cooked outside.
I wonder if this picture shows Christmas Dinner all
ready and and the blokes serving themselves, once
they've checked what's on offer. Or was it just
another ordinary day?
But all this was coming to an end for him. On
January 12th he went to look at a new position not
far from San Clemente
and all the guns moved there shortly
afterwards. Right opposite where the Germans are, on
another hillside. And this morning he and a couple of his comrades
have jumped into a jeep and started out on a
long drive right down to the very south of the
country which will take several days. To
Salerno. It's for
a training course on meteorology (which means the
weather - I bet he is an expert on THAT already!
But you need to know something about all that for
when you are aiming your big guns). I might tell you
a bit more about Graham's long journey another time
- this time it only took two or three days. When he
first did it in the opposite direction it took him
more than eighteen months!
And what of
Graham's Christmas in the Northern Appenines,
back at Belvedere
in the middle of nowhere? His
third in the Army and it certainly won't be the
last. This is all he says about it:
"Christmas and
New Year came and went".
********** |
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FORWARD to
May 1945 (to
follow)
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Please see INDEX page for
general acknowledgements.
Grateful
acknowledgement is also made
to:
- the several owners of the Myers
Family Archive of which all the
images shown on this page are a
part.
This family
and local history
page is hosted by
- The History of the Home Guard in Great Britain, 1940-1944
-
www.staffshomeguard.co.uk
All
text and images are, unless otherwise stated, © The
Myers Family 2025
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