30th June 1944

Friday
Had a long, quiet night.  Up early.  Clouds thin and high, and the glass up a little.  No planes about.  Miss Bentley said there was a big explosion during the night, but I heard nothing.

Went to the Food Office this morning, about rations for an excavator driver.  Saw a notice on the door to the effect that if there was a warning the building would be closed to the public, and had not been inside two minutes when the sirens sounded.  On the step outside was a young woman, with a little girl of 5 or 6 by her side, looking up anxiously at the sky, where strings of Fortresses sailed along among heavy white clouds.  Felt that if a “diver” came up we should never get a chance to hear it with all this noise going on.  A few people were hanging about rather self-consciously, around the mouth of the shelter next the Library, but nobody in the streets seemed very worried.  Lovely blue sky, fleecy clouds, bombers.  No “divers”, no explosions.  Went round by Chapel St and Cedars Rd, as I always like to make for open country.  Loud singing from the shelters at St John’s Green School.

Went across the Field, troops at exercises.  Thunderbolt whizzed across, very low, and ‘all-clear’ came almost at once.  Children came running out of the shelters at Canterbury Rd School, and just outside was a Co-op oil van, with the horse out of the shafts and tied to the back wheel.  These new alarms are being taken quite as seriously as those of four years ago.  Wonder how we shall regard them in four years time?

Capt. Folkard and Maidstone went off to Peldon today, to attend a conference about the grain drier which it is intended to be built next to Bonner’s Barn, near the Stroud.  How they hope to get the thing ready by this harvest only Writtle or the Ministry can tell.

This evening went home and found Father just about to walk round to the Recreation Ground with Miss Payne.  She makes him get out whenever the weather is warm and decent.

Went across to Rallings’ and picked some cherries.  Mary showed me a photograph of the Fire Office, taken in the Jubilee Celebrations in 1897, with the Ralling family standing on top of the colonnade, outside old Mrs Ives’ room.  Mary must have been 13 or 14 then, and her resemblance to Joan Ralling is most striking.

Lovely evening in the orchard, the air full of bats, birds singing in every tree, the black cat creeping through the long grass with a conspiratorial air.  Few planes about, and the glass higher.

29th June 1944

Thursday
Went into town by way of Turner Road, for the sake of admiring the view.  The fields there should be preserved for ever, as they are the last really fine view of the town left to us.

Walsh came in from Writtle this morning, to talk about repairs to buildings and yard, but I don't suppose anything will be done. 

Spent the afternoon checking names of farmers’ on the parish lists.  Nearly everybody else went to Peldon to hear a lecture on the grain drier which is to be put up there.

Rushed off soon after 4 to get to Horkesley Post at 5.  People working in the fields, horse-hoeing, spreading lime, picking peas.  Met a gang of our Women's Land Army girls, getting on the bus at quarter to 5, so they must have left the field by 4.30 at the latest.  This sort of thing is very largely the fault of the bus drivers, who get there as early as they can for their own convenience. 

Had no tea until I got a cup at the Post.  Lovely evening, with high light clouds, and a few ‘planes about, circling for height, looking like little Tadpoles swimming in a bowl.  As the sun sank there were great bars of golden light to the west, and dark clouds piled up like endless mountain ranges, snow covered, of the most fantastic shapes.

There were a fair number of ‘planes about, some heavy bombers circling, and several lots of fighters took off from Boxted.  The weather was rather clouding, but the actual observation was not difficult.  Glad when 9 at last came, and I hurried back to Woodside for a delicious supper.  Heard bombers going out at about 11, but felt very tired tonight.  Looked out at half past eleven, and found a very light rain falling.  There was a red glare far away to the North, and an uncanny silence.

The funeral service for Captain Grundy, the Home Guard officer murdered at Abberton, was held at the Garrison Church this afternoon.  The gun-carriage was drawn by a light lorry, driven by an ATS girl.  Curious jobs girls are made to do in these days.

28th June 1944

Wednesday
Heavy clouds this morning.  Felt ill and very tired.  Late in.  Dull all day, with some showers.  Another short alarm at a quarter past 2.  This evening fine, clear and cool.

Wondering tonight whether I ought to try once again to get Father to move.  Feel sure these flying bomb attacks are going to get very much worse.

27th June 1944

Tuesday
To Observer Post at 1am.  Fine and clear.  Found myself on with Goody the ‘bus driver.  Then clouds came, and heavy rain.  Had the alarm ‘divers’, indicating that flying-bombs were coming in over Kent, but nothing came over our sector.  Rain stopped and it gradually got light.  Lambs began to cry, and larks rose up, singing.  The dawn sky was full of wild, torn, cloud with great masses of yellow, and red, gold and green.  Made me think of the dawn last year at Aviemore.  Wished I was there.  Thought of the 6 o’clock train leaving for the North this morning – by 8 tonight I could be in Edinburgh.  Got off at 5am.  Only heard one plane all night.  Bed for 3 hours.  Fine morning, but heavy rain from 11 to 12.  Weather bad for the invasion, which does not seem to be going very well.

Several pairs of army horses with wagons went by the office during the day.

An alarm for 10 minutes at 3 o’clock, just as the bombers were going out, so that had a flying-bomb come near it would have been difficult to hear it.

Was told today that on Saturday last “Tornado” Smith, now a fireman, the man who kept a lion at Boxford, rode into Colchester on a penny-farthing bicycle.

Fine evening, very calm.

26th June 1944

Monday
Up at 8.45.  Late at office.  Father still very anxious about Miss Payne’s coming back.  Busy morning, back for an early lunch, then off to Birch for the Committee Meeting.  Nothing much done.  No mention of the new bombs, but heard that Joanna is coming back with her baby soon.  Should have thought she would have stayed in Berkshire.  Afterwards went down to Layer Marney with Capt. Folkard and Maidstone, as he is to have one of the cottages behind the church.  There was an ‘all-clear’ at Tiptree just as we arrived.  Looked over the cottage, then went into the church.  The Marney Chapel is in a shocking state, roof leaking, monuments dirty, the east window almost falling into the churchyard.  Got up on top of the tower.  Glorious view, right across to Mersea, looking over the Committee’s farms.  The corn looks very well indeed.

Got back to Colchester at 7.30.  Found Miss Payne had duly returned, Father quite radiant.  To Boxted at 9, and had supper, then ready to go to Post at 1am.  Hardly a ‘plane all day.

25th June 1944

Sunday
Mass of ‘planes went out soon after 5, in the dawn.  Woke me up.  Got Father tea at 8.  Wash, writing, etc.  Went off to Horkesley at 12. 

Pawsey was at the Post, and was very friendly, but I was an awful failure.  Rather strong S.W. wind, and an escaped barrage balloon came sailing along from London, no doubt cut loose by a flying bomb.  Some clouds coming up, and not many ‘planes, but what there was I failed to identify.  Glad when 5 o’clock came and I rushed home to tea.  Wrote some letters, then went to post them.  Called at Holly Trees, talked to Poulter.  Put the radio on, and heard the “Swan Lake” ballet music until Poulter said “For God’s sake turn off that rubbish”.  Stayed until 10, then went home, feeling very nervous.  Heavy explosion at 11 o’clock, shaking doors and windows.  Father spent most of the evening worrying as to whether Miss Payne will be back early tomorrow.

At midnight there was another explosion, and could hear gunfire to the south.  Then the sirens went off, and I felt in an awful panic.  Finally went to bed at half past 12.  Dozed off, woke to an alarm at 3am.  Heard the sound of a flying-bomb, heard it stop, and then a distant crash.  Crouched down in the bed.  All-clear in ten minutes.  Wondered if the night would ever end.

24th June 1944

Saturday
Brilliant day, mild and sunny, but felt it overshadowed by the coming night.  This morning Charlie Baldwin came in with a story about the murder at Abberton.  A Home Guard officer named Capt. Grundy has been shot by a regular soldier, whom he came across when rabbiting.

Charlie said: “Did you hear together about these goings on at Abberton?  That was like this: Thursday night we had a ‘robert’ bomb [V1 robot bomb] at Copt Hall, and then later on the same night there was an owd Jerry came over and he dropped a string o’bombs on the next marsh to where that was.  Well, of course all this here upset our cattle, and we had about 100 head o’stock out by the morning, so I went up to Copt Hall Chase to find Cutting, and he says to me “I suppose you know all these here cattle are out all over the parish?  You might let Webb know when you’re up the village, and you might tell him there’s an unexploded bomb on the bottom marsh.”

Well, I thought if I went to Ponder’s place, him being Head Warden, I could tell him, and he could ‘phone Webb, ‘cause that’d be cheaper, like, but when I get to Ponder’s his missus said “He’s out, but that ain't a might o’good getting on to Webb, ‘cause he’s got a murder on his hands, and he’s busy.”  So I says “Oh, has he.  But what about this here unexploded bomb?  Webb can't do no good to the poor chap what’s dead, but if this bomb go off that might kill somebody else.”

Well, I went off and told my brother Cecil, and he went off with young Neville to the tractor they’d left behind the stacks near Peldon ‘Rose’.  When they got there, Cecil noticed that the cloth had gone off the tractor, so they had a look round, and right agin the stack they found the cloth with an R.A.F. chap rolled up in it, fast asleep, in fact he looked that white and queer they thought he was dead, so Cecil goes up and gives him a kick.  Well, that woke him up, and Cecil says “What are you up to mate?” and this chap says “I’m a-going to Mersea.”  “Where are you come from?” says Cecil, and he says “I’ve come from London”, he says, “and I’m on a secret mission.”  “Well,” says Cecil, “I reckon you’d better be gitten on the bus,” so they put him on the Mersea bus and then Neville says “What about this murder?  Do you reckon he’s had something to do with it?”  Cecil said he thought they ought to tell the police, so they got on their bikes and went onto the Island and told Sergt. Woods.  He says “That’s all right,” he says “he wont get off,” he says, “And I’ll tell you for why,” he says, “cause I’m going to put a man down by the Stroud, and that’ll stop him, see?”

Well, last night my brother and Neville was in the Rose, when in come Woods.  He calls my brother out, and he say “You know that fellow what you told me about?” and my brother say “Yes”, “Well,” he say “we found him.”  “Yes?” says my brother.  “Well,” he say, “he ain't nothing to do with that murder at all!”

It appears that Capt. Grundy was killed just behind Mabbitt’s house, Manwood Chase. The soldier then went across to the Layer Road, called at Lilley’s house and asked them to telephone the police.  He was still carrying the tommy-gun with which he had committed the murder.  

A flying-bomb fell at St Osyth either yesterday or the day before.

Went into the Park this afternoon, and went to sleep on the grass.  Big crowds about.  Felt strangely lonely.

To Rallings’ at tea-time and picked several pounds of cherries.  The fruit trees here are all very old, but still bear well.  Some of the pear trees are over 60 years old.  Father came over and we all had tea.  Miss Payne went off to Takeley for the weekend, and I am spending two nights in the old house.  Have not slept there since before Mother died.

Thinking about preparing maps of Boxted to show the agricultural development of the parish, with particular notice of the siting of the little 15^th century hall houses round the Heath.

Went up town this evening.  Saw an American at St. Botolph’s Corner, very drunk, standing on one leg and shouting “Look at me!  I’m a stork!”

Calm evening, and not many ‘planes about.  To bed at eleven, in the front room, in Mother’s place.  Have to go on duty at Horkesley tomorrow.  The Royal Observer Corps don't seem very anxious to make use of my services, but I shan’t complain if they leave me alone entirely.