1 March 2012

Please note: this news article is in our archive. Articles were correct at time of publication, but should not be relied on for accuracy after the passage of time.

Doris Rhindress, now an 88-year-old widow, has her own memories of the war, and the day when the Whitehall theatre, where she was an usherette, was bombed.

“History repeats itself,” said Doris. “88 years ago I was born to a Canadian soldier and an English nurse.

They had returned to BC, Canada from England and then moved to Portland Oregon, USA where I was born.

“Eight years later, my mother, sister and I returned to England after the untimely death of my father (we later learned that he had deserted us and lived until 1955 in British Columbia but that’s another story) and I met and married Bob, a Canadian soldier.

 “Prior to meeting Bob we lived in a tiny village called Fen Drayton near St Ives. After we finished school almost all the girls from the village went to work in the Chivers jam factory for the lack of anything better to do. I was working there the day we heard that war had been declared, it was a Sunday.

“For us being young and bored to tears it was a really exciting time what with air raid drills, gas masks drills, incendiary bombs, which at that time did no damage.

“My friend and I would bike into St Ives to go to a dance on a Saturday night. One night on returning home, we were riding one behind the other when one after the other the bikes in front of us disappeared.

“Before the rest of us realized what had happened, we’d disappeared right along with them into a rather large bomb crater in the middle of the road. Apart from a few bumps and scrapes, we were okay, however our bikes never looked the same again. As time went by and the war got more intense, I decided to move back to Epsom where my mom and sister lived.

“That’s where I met my darling Bob. He was with the Signal Core, a spiffy looking young Canadian chap. We were married after only a few months. One evening while sitting in front of a lovely fire in the fireplace the chimney caught fire, and all hell broke loose.

“The air raid wardens were there pounding on the door, blowing whistles. The thing is, when flames and sparks are flying into the air and the place is supposed to be in blackout, any German planes flying by would have a grand view of where to let a few bombs go.

“The ever-vigilant air raid wardens rushed in, stuck a hose up the chimney and put the fire out. A rather lovely white heather rug was ruined but at least the jerries didn’t have time to zero in on us and we didn’t get in too much trouble.

“Bob was stationed in East Grinstead and I was living and working in Epsom at a commutator factory. Commutators were used in night fighters and bombers. After a while I moved to East Grinstead to be closer to Bob and got a job at the Whitehall theatre.

“German planes would fly over East Grinstead on their way to and from their bombing runs to London. One evening a German plane was being chased by our fighters when the German let his bombs go. One made a direct hit on our theatre killing 108 and injuring many more. My best friend was killed and I was seriously injured and spent 6 weeks in hospital.

“By this time I was three months pregnant and very worried about my baby. Bob had spent hours helping to carry the dead and injured from the rubble, never knowing if one of them was going to be his wife. When he finally found me, he was as white as chalk. It was a difficult task for him as many of his buddies were in the theatre at that time.

“That was the end of that, Bob made arrangements for me to go to Canada. He didn’t want to have to worry about me along with all the other worries of being a soldier in WWII. His wonderful family welcomed me with open arms. Our baby girl, Sandy, was born in March, perfectly healthy. After Bob got home from the war our family increased by two more children, a son, Larry and another daughter, Donna. Now we have five grand daughters, nine great grandsons and one great granddaughter. Life is good!”