You’ll be able to see your Auntie Floss!

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Bernie Hawkins and has been added to the website on behalf of Ernest Crisp with his / her permission and he / she fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

Further to my earlier story of me as a young civilian during a bombing raid at Stockwell, South London during the winter of 1940-41, I now go forward a few years — the dates of these events have become a bit hazy. I had volunteered to join the RAF early in February 1943. I was then 17½ years old. The RAF told me to come back when I was 18. The recruiting office was a three-storey building — Air Force on the top floor, RN the next floor down and Army on the ground floor. I was bitterly disappointed being turned down by the RAF. Six months was a long time to wait when you’re young. I walked down the stairs. There was the RN office and I thought, “What about the Fleet Air Arm?” Anyway, I volunteered to join the Navy and was accepted. I thought once I’m in I’ll sort out the Fleet Air Arm later. A month later my call-up papers arrived. I was joining up March 13th 1943. When I was going to volunteer I don’t think my parents believed me but now I had my papers they were dumbfounded! My mum was really upset. My dad quickly realised the situation, then encouraged me and advised my mum, “It’s all right; he won’t be up there (pointing upwards). He’s joining the Navy.” He looked at me and stated; “Now you will be able to see your Auntie Floss.” This is that story.

The thirteenth of March, 1943: all us recruits met up at Croydon. The recruiting office then travelled down to Portsmouth to join the land-based training ship HMS Collingwood. I had a six weeks intensive training and fitness course, then joined the crew of HMS Argonaut, a light cruiser of Dido class, designed as an anti-aircraft ship, being refitted at Hebburn near Newcastle. We got a bit of leave during the refit, after which we went to sea, north around Scapa Floe, all training — “running in” I think they called it. As soon as we left the dockside I noticed a slight movement under foot. My thoughts went back to my dad and his words, “You’ll be able to see your Auntie Floss.” I couldn’t imagine me on a ship, let alone going halfway around the World! Yet, here I was, at sea!

Now my Auntie Floss, my mother’s elder sister, had emigrated to Australia back in 1926 when I was just a year old. The family had lost contact for a few years, but in letters from home, although we couldn’t say where we were, mum managed to tell me the last known address of Auntie Floss.

On board we were quite busy honing our skills, assisting here and there, a bit of convoy duty, helping out on D-Day. Back in Devonport to restock, rearm and a bit of repairs, etc. Then back to D-Day, after which we went around the Med and assisted the Yanks at southern France, along to help out at Sicily. We thought, “We’ll be going home now”, but we turned the wrong way at Alexandria — a bit of a refit and paint, then through Suez, the Red Sea, around to Colombo, on to help at Sumatra (now Indonesia).

Anyway, we eventually sailed into Sydney Harbour. “Blimey!” I thought, “My dad could be right!” We tied up alongside at Woolloomooloo. I made a few enquiries and sure enough the address I had been given was still there. The occupiers were a Mr and Mrs Sanger. It turned out that Auntie Floss (Flossie Brookman) had married a Mr William Sanger and had a son, Jeffery Sanger. I thought, “Let’s find out”, so a shipmate of mine (I can see him now but can’t remember his name — I knew him as “Lefty”, he was 6’1” tall, same as me), after being given directions and misdirections, found the elusive address — 16 Kensington Street, Chippendale, NSW. If I remember right, it was a three-story building in a road of terraces. We went up the steps, to the front door, knocked, no reply. We were a bit disappointed, then a neighbour appeared. We explained who we were and stated that we would be back tomorrow.

The next day we returned and what a welcome! We were stars, treated like heroes, crowds of neighbours. When we knocked at number 16, my aunt rushed out straight to me. During the hug, my silly response to my aunt was “How did you know it was me and not him (my oppo)?” Auntie replied, through tears, “I know a Brookman face anywhere, and you’ve got it, plus the ginger hair. On reflection it was unbelievable. We were all pushed into the front room, loads of neighbours, schooners of beer were produced, what a welcome! My new Uncle Bill arrived eventually and my young cousin Jeffery, and I kept thinking of my old dad — “You’ll be able to see your Auntie Floss now.”

Needless to say, my aunt was later in contact with all her brothers and sisters again, travelled back to the old family home at 34 Burgoyne Road for a couple of week’s holiday and travelled the country meeting up with everyone. That was in 1926. Uncle Bill had died. Jeffery had married and had his own family, so Auntie Floss travelled by ship all on her own and went back on the same boat.

The War really did some good turns as well. Without the War, my Auntie Floss would have probably been forgotten. Unbelievable words which came true — “You’ll now be able to see your Auntie Floss!”

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