This was the number of the barrage balloon site, which the R.A.F. Regiment established in what we children referred to as “the grass field”. This is the same field to which I once set fire in an earlier tale and was about 250 yards from our house. It was so-called because, although it was part of the local park-land, the grass was never cut and stood about 18 inches high.
One day a party of soldiers, Pioneer Corps I believe, descended on this field and began to excavate a hole, of substantial proportions, right in the middle. Before long this had attracted the attention of the local urchins, myself included. “Whatcher doin’ mate?” and “What’s that ‘ole for?” eventually elicited the information that the field was to become a balloon site. Over the next few days a large block of concrete was cast in-situ in the hole, with a pulley-wheel secured to the top. This was to become the anchorage point, the cable passing round the pulley centrally beneath its hydrogen-filled charge!
The soldiers, on completion of their soil-grubbing, moved on to the next site and were replaced by a detachment of R.A.F. Regiment who set about the technical part of the task. On arrival on site they erected tents, for sleeping and eating and dug slit trenches, in which to take cover in the event of a “flying-bomb” coming to earth near their site. We were told that it was not unknown for a “snagged” doodle-bug to spiral down the balloon cable!
After a few days, lorries arrived bearing the balloon and everything that was needed to get it into the sky. I remember that we kids “helped” as the balloon was unfolded and stretched out on the grass, centrally over the concrete anchorage point. The winch lorry, or possibly trailer, was positioned at some distance, facing away from the balloon. Its winch cable was run out, passed round the pulley and attached to the balloon.
One of these trucks carried a load of long, slim steel cylinders, which we soon discovered to be filled with hydrogen, under pressure. These, when unloaded, were stored in several stacks along one side of the field, the stacks being triangular in cross-section. Everything being ready, the time had come for which we kids had been waiting, with mounting excitement.
One after the other, the cylinders were attached to the balloon, valves opened and their contents discharged. After what seemed an age, the fabric began to stir and after several hours and countless cylinders, the envelope took shape. Having spent a good part of the day awaiting the launch, I had to go home for my tea before the exciting event. I was just preparing to go back to the site when our dog began to bark frantically. I ran outside and there was the balloon, looming, like an enormous silver moon above the trees, as it ascended into the evening sky!
Another site had been established about a quarter of a mile away, the number of which was 1078. The relative proximity of this one meant that an air of friendly competition had grown up between the two crews. To the chagrin of 569 the “neighbours” could be seen to be somewhat ahead in their preparations. Accordingly, we all, crew and kids watched in silence as the blokes at 1078 got their balloon off the ground. Their satisfaction was short-lived, however, as just a few feet clear of terra firma, it burst and sank back down. An enormous cheer went up from we who were watching, but it was tempered with some sympathy for our colleagues up the lane!
In the few months they were there, these airmen made friends with the people round about, and were invited to homes in the area. At the end of their tour of duty they gave us children a party, with what rations they could muster. The thing that I remember on the table was the 7lb tin of jam, which the kids tucked into with great gusto!