What did you do in the war, daddy?

I don't recall actually questioning my father about his part in the war with that near cliche most youngsters supposedly ask in the years following world conflict. But I certainly wondered.

The strangest part of what became a very long curiosity is that I am about to find out. Well, it seems I am. On Tuesday I will visit Salisbury to see a documentary about the secret production of the Spitfire fighter aircraft in that historic, gorgeous mediaeval city.

The pre-publicity confirms the little I knew. In 1940, the wartime government arranged for the aircraft's manufacturer to shift production from the family home in Southampton to secret locations in Salisbury, and in a few other provincial cities.

My father had a kingpin part in the production of the Spitfire at Vickers Supermarine, or at least I supposed his was an elevated role. He was very enthusiastic about his work.

Hush-hush

The child took that to mean a good job, but it was never confirmed at home. In fact everything to do with his work seemed very hush-hush.

Apparently my parents' home in Southampton was bombed, so the move by the Southampton company to Salisbury might actually have suited them. My mother was pregnant with me and apparently that meant my parents and older brother were obliged to share the home of another pregnant lady.

Each would act as midwife for the other. I might confess that in the light of a lifetime of utter silence, this is me guessing. I presume this was government policy in those crazy times.

The house in Devizes Road was a practical two-storey house, but with a stunning view of Old Sarum, founded around 1300 BC. Reliable fellow that he was, my Dad went off to work each day. But where? Where was the Spitfire factory?

Continues of the blogs for my oceanic adventure book, Sailing to Purgatory, here >>>> at SailingToPurgatory.com