Blitz Kids (49 page)

For the boys, many of whom had joined out of a genuine enthusiasm to ‘do their bit' for the war effort, there were many strange encounters. Once in neutral ports they faced the curious experience of coming face-to-face with their German counterparts. Alan Shard recalled his first encounter with the ‘enemy' whilst in neutral Goa:

The many and varied ports of the Caribbean were a constant source of wonder to the boys. Bernard Ashton enjoyed trips to Georgetown in British Guyana, where he was fascinated by the street scenes. The streets thronged with people of all nationalities and he watched barbers with their chairs out in the streets, cutting hair with open razors. The cafes were packed, with music wafting out from their open fronts. Bernard watched as the older seamen filled the bars, spending their wages before their sober crewmates, such as Bernard, had to drag them back to the ship. In Trinidad, he visited the Chinese cafes, watching the hard-working Chinese waitresses as they served beer, curry and rice to gangs of hungry seamen. Another young seaman, arriving in Guyana on his first trip, was told that rum was cheaper than Coca-Cola: ‘So I drank rum.'

The West Indies was a source of rum, spices, fruit and cane sugar. As they sailed from port to port, the sailors faced a barrage of locals trying to sell goods to them, and they were soon gorging themselves on bananas. Bernard Ashton joined the routine of trading old jam jars and tins for fresh produce. He learned how the sailors would buy cuts of sugar cane, leaving it to ferment onboard. The old hands showed him how to make toffee using sugar, sucking on it as they worked on deck on their way back across the Atlantic. He also felt a twinge of nostalgia when he noticed his ship's cargo included barrels of pitch from the same company that supplied the Kent coal mine where his father worked.

Whilst many parts of the word seemed exotic, it was the modern luxuries of the United States that most appealed. When Christian Immelman first arrived in the United States in late 1939, he was pleasantly surprised to see a well-stocked store near the oil refinery in Galveston, Texas, where they were collecting fuel:

Enjoying the opportunities available in the United States became a regular feature of his visits: ‘My first call on going ashore in any US port, before hitting the nearest bar with the boys, would be to a drugstore for a fried egg sandwich on beautiful white bread together with a vanilla milkshake.'

His trips to American ports were in direct contrast to his time back in the UK. Between his sixteenth and eighteenth birthdays he received no leave in the UK and thus, despite having sailed around the world, had no contact with his family. In those two years he snatched just a few hours with his mother in Cardiff after she had discovered his ship was due to dock there. Another boy recalled being in Galveston in 1941 when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, bringing the United States into the war. He watched as his openly delighted British crewmates celebrated the United States' declaration of war, telling them, ‘You're in now!' and berating them for how long they had taken to enter the war.

The United States was home to one city they wanted to visit above all others: New York. For Christian Immelman, it fast became his favourite:

On one trip to New York the crew of his ship took two cases of Scotch whisky. They swapped the whisky for two Thompson sub-
machine-guns
which were taken onboard as additional protection

Yet for most of their time in New York, such martial thoughts were far from everybody's mind. As seventeen-year-old Ron Singleton later recalled: ‘It opened my eyes. Went to see the bright lights of Times Square and everything. It was unbelievable. We could get candy bars out of chocolate machines.' He also found the local population shocked to see him and his mates – three teenage British boys – on the streets of their city. They were amazed how boys so young had braved the Atlantic to reach their city. For Ron it was a strange experience: ‘They thought we were real heroes – we weren't.'

At the heart of the gangs of British seamen and boys who experienced life in New York was one particularly lucky group: the ‘Distressed British Seamen', those who had been fortunate enough to survive the sinking of their ships and had been sent to the city ready to await another to take them home. By early 1940, the Seaman's Church Institute at 25 South Street had already housed, fed, reclothed and cared for the crews of thirty-eight merchant ships lost in the Atlantic. In late 1940 the staff recognized two of the new arrivals, Towers and Hardie, two eighteen-year-olds who had survived the sinking of the
Blairangus
. Over a year earlier, at the age of seventeen, they had both been among the survivors of the sinking of the
Blairlogie
. Despite their youth, they were true veterans of the Battle of the Atlantic.

The ranks of the ‘Distressed British Seamen' in New York were joined by ex-Prince of Wales Sea Training Hostel boy Bernard Ashton after his ship was torpedoed by an Italian submarine in March 1942. Before reaching New York he had an enjoyable few weeks in Puerto Rico. Having been landed in San Juan, Bernard, his mate Peter Pickett and the rest of the crew were sent to a hotel. To the youngsters it seemed like something from a film. The hotel was built around a courtyard to provide shade, with large open windows, ceiling fans and slatted saloon doors. Sitting out on the veranda, sipping iced drinks, it seemed a world away from the coalfields of Kent or the dirty, bombed slumscapes of British ports.

The first thing the teenagers needed to do was to buy some new
clothes – after all, Bernard couldn't go out dancing in his vest, football shorts and boots:  

They spent their days in a Red Cross canteen, drinking coffee or milkshakes and eating cake. Or they went swimming at local beaches, where they could admire the girls and enjoy the protection of shark nets. At night they would go down the waterfront, sitting outside bars, watching the local girls parading in their finest dresses. After wartime England, everything seemed so alive. In the bars, the jukebox would be playing all night, and Bernard's mate – handsome, six foot tall and an accomplished dancer – was an immediate hit with the local girls. Peter would be dancing, jukebox playing all night. By day they could drink Coca-Cola and, by night, they preferred Cuba Libre cocktails of rum, lime and Coca-Cola. Then after dancing till 1 a.m., the boys would go for coffee and a steak. It was a far cry from the home ports with their beer shortages and bomb shelters.

Through Peter's dancing skills, the boys met some local women who took them out to dances, bars and restaurants. Peter's girl, Christina, had to take a chaperone, so took along her friend, a twenty-eight-
year-old
married woman. The teenage Bernard felt uncertain in the company of one so mature: ‘She was all over me. I was dragged up to the bedroom.' What might have been fun was tempered by the sight of a photograph of her husband: he was in a police uniform and receiving an award for pistol shooting.

After four weeks, the boys had to leave Puerto Rico and head to New York. Having spent all their money in bars and clothes shops, they could not afford suitcases and were forced to carry their possessions in wooden boxes marked ‘Heinz Beans', with improvised string handles. In his box, Bernard even carried a white tuxedo jacket that had been given to him by a man who thought it might be useful in New York.

Arriving in New York by liner from San Juan, the seamen were met by taxis which took them to hotels for their first night. Bernard and Peter arrived outside the Times Square Hotel. As they stepped out and looked up in amazement at their accommodation, a uniformed bell boy approached, took their wooden bean-boxes from their hands and led them into the hotel. Once more, the two teenagers had entered an unfamiliar world. From the lift they were taken to their accommodation, an unexpectedly comfortable room with a telephone and a writing desk. Once again, it was a pleasant surprise after the missions and hostels they routinely resided in. As nice as it might have been, there was a whole city awaiting them, and they immediately hit the town: ‘We went straight to a dime-a-dance joint. We had our photos taken in a photo-booth, which we had never seen in England. I was wearing my white tuxedo.' In their tropical outfits, the English teenagers were the focus of attention: ‘As usual everyone in the joint wanted to dance with Peter.' Walking the streets, they were continually amazed at the contrast to home: ‘There were all the lights on in Times Square. The cinemas were lit up.' Of course, it was too good to be true. After just one night in the Times Square Hotel, they moved to the mission in South Street, where they ate their meals at the Merchant Navy club.

At the mission, the staff were struck by the Puerto Rican outfits worn by the boys: ‘beach suits' and straw hats were hardly appropriate for New York. When one of the staff asked, ‘Is that all the clothes you have?' the boys were taken to a room filled with suits, shoes and hats. Again the boys were in a wonderland. Coming from the land of clothing coupons, New York was stunning. Picking out a brown woollen suit and suitable shoes, Bernard felt correctly dressed for the city. They quickly fell into a routine of going out to dances and restaurants, and once again teamed up with local girls.

After two weeks in New York, the boys left for home. They had enjoyed their time, but were eager to get back to sea to earn some money and to see their families again. As they left New York they had no idea they would be back within days. Shortly into the voyage they were torpedoed off the coast of Florida. Safely ashore, they went through the now familiar routine of replacing all their clothes. At first they chose old clothes from a pile of cast-offs. However, this was just temporary: they were immediately taken to a store and outfitted in a
new suit, shoes and hat. Then, within a couple of days, they were off to the railway station and back to New York on the express train: ‘Peter had already cabled New York to tell the girls to be there to meet us. And they were at the station waiting. I went back to the seamen's mission to get a new suit. They said, “You were only here the other day!” So I had to explain what had happened.'

Waiting for the next available ship, the boys stayed in New York for another four weeks:

As he got friendlier with the girl and her family, Bernard received a tempting offer: ‘Her dad wanted me to stay there and marry her. He said he'd set me up with a job on an American ship, then in three years I'd be able to get American citizenship. But I wasn't that keen on my girl and I don't think she was too keen on me.' So, despite the attractions, the two boys returned home.

In 1943, seventeen-year-old Arthur Harvey was sent to the United States as part of a crew to collect a newly built ‘Liberty Ship', the
Sampan
. Once in New York they had to wait for two months before their ship was ready. He moved into a hotel on 54th and Broadway and, since he was being paid both his normal wages plus board and lodging, he could enjoy everything the city offered: