For the few motorists and others using the road to Birchy Lake with the regulation shaded headlights in the dark there were a line of square rocks painted white to mark the edge of the bank down which one might land on the green or even slide towards the River Taw. After the war these gradually disappeared, mostly rolled down the green towards the river. Great fun, but not guilty! Most transport was either bicycle or pony; the bicycle lamps also had to have shades on them directing the poor light down to the ground. No one wanted to provide a target for the Luftwaffe. There were plenty of Dartmoor ponies around (or Dartmoor crosses), but the biggest menace in the dark were the black cattle who liked to stand in groups blocking the road. Such are the joys of roads open to the moor. Seemingly always and till well after the war, the sheep dogs would lie on the road outside Town Living oblivious to anything that wanted to pass. Why is it that sheepdogs have charmed lives? I also remember, in the blackout, one of our Special Constables (who shall still remain nameless) thumping at the door because we were showing a light. My mother politely pointed out that you could only see the light by bending down below the window. She did not add that the Luftwaffe did not fly quite that low!

The lanes were quite different during the war simply because the hedges were not cut and the potholes were ignored. I grew up expecting each lane to be a green tunnel. For instance as you went down to Tongue End you suddenly came into the full light when you got to the wide part, then back into the roadside vegetation until you approached the main road. To see a lane being resurfaced after the war was a real novelty.

Outside the gateway to Birchy Lake there was a sandbag shelter by the gatepost on the Resugga lodge side of the road. I think if you poke the earth there you will discover sand. Obviously Birchy Lake was not being left undefended against the Nazis! Even then the wooden gate had fallen out of use and was laid back against the wall inside the gateway. A pity, as when we lived there we might have been spared the sound of ponies trotting past in the night. I suppose the age of the motor car had made it too much trouble to open and close that gate.

One of my abiding memories when I was about five was watching my mother and father driving through that gateway going out somewhere in our large open Humber. I was at the upstairs middle window at Birchy Lake with my nanny when our greyhound, Skelly, whom my father had rescued, decided he did not want to be left behind and jumped out of the window on to the glass conservatory roof whereupon he was stuck. My nanny made valiant efforts to hook him with a walking stick, but eventually Mrs Ball (later Lady Ball) came round with a step ladder. To no avail. Eventually George Rutley, I think, managed to lift him down. A great effort considering a greyhound is no small dog and the edge of the conservatory roof must be a good seven feet up. My father used to ride over to Okehampton Camp in the mornings on a horse brought over by the groom as he was an Instructor in Ginnery at the School of Artillery. That was what had brought us to Belstone from Larkhill on Salisbury plain in rhe first place./Riding across the moor via Cullever's Steps was a much shorter route and probably just as quick. No petrol required.

Later, when we were living at Great Down, I remember a German fighter banking very low overhead, probably being pursued. It was so low that I could see the pilot's head quite clearly in his flying helmet. He climbed steeply up over Cosdon and I think was shot down. I could see little sparks of light from a pursuing plane when they were high up. I wonder what he was doing there? Probably escorting bombers to Plymouth. We certainly heard the drone of German bombers flying over from time to time. The sound remains with me now.

For some time I went to school in what had been the Brenamoor Hotel. The junior department of St George's School, Harpenden had been evacuated there and so was convenient for a few locals. I remember seeing the gilded script letters of the hotel name stored in the garage. If I remember rightly the word "Brenamoor" was re-erected after the war without "Hotel".

Brenamoor School with children evacuated from St George's Children's House School, Harpenden 1941

Photograph from Michael Olver - top left on the gatepost - he was too old to go to the schol as it only took under eights. He lived at Andrew's Corner (Chilluns) while his Mother was cook at the school.

Evacuees at Brenamoor School

Great Down was well placed to explore the wonders of the leat. This is now, sadly, but a faint trail but used to be a nice walk from the village to Skaigh. It was built to supply power for the mine half way down Skaigh hill and was used latterly for the water supply to Skaigh House. Sometime near the end of the war it was renovated by a gang of Italian POWs. The leat passed just below the steps and gate from Great Down on to the open moor. For a small boy this had all the attraction of mud, sticklebacks, leaches and various other sorts of wild life. One leach was carried home in a jam jar but decided to make it own way home overnight.

Next to us at Great Down, in The Rills, lived Elizabeth Schale, a Swedish lady. Because she was not a British Citizen she was not allowed to keep her horse during the war. Nevertheless she was a familiar sight around the village as she used to go around collecting War Savings.

I learnt to bicycle whilst at Great Down, before that it was tricycle transport. Some kind soul had put American soldiers to camp on Brenamoor. Fortunately they were sufficiently skilled in driving a Jeep fast backwards to avoid a small boy on a tricycle. Brenamoor is hardly recommended as a camping place for our allies.

Another tricycle ride was to the village to see the long line of grey NFS (National Fire Service) fire engines parked down the road after the Barton burnt down. (1943 I think). How fortunate that Lady Haycraft managed to get out of the burning house right past the cosy stove which ignited it. A pity, though, that the fire hydrant under its metal cover in the road had not been maintained. If the NFS had succeeded in getting water from it much less of the house would have been gutted but the village saved all the furniture. The nearest alternative water supply was Brenamoor! Unfortunately war regulations prohibited temporary repairs and as the house was all cob above the ground floor the ancient but unroofed cob disappeared by the end of the war.

We all relied on Moorlock's shop for our rations. The Moorlocks Austin 7 saloon, with its yellowed triplex windows, did sterling war service piled up with people's rations going round as a delivery vehicle driven by Blanche Moorlock, Cyril was away at the war. Before the Austin 7 Cyril had a traditional delivery bike with "Moorlock & Son" sign written upon it. How is it that in war time one got much better service from shop, butcher, baker milk, post etc than in the 21st Century? Some may remember that there was another very small shop built into the hedge bank of the Court just by the stocks.

Belstone was notable for forms of transport in the war years and for some time after. First place must go to George Chastey's splendid Austin car used as his taxi. Even by the 1940s a car where the passengers sat enclosed and the driver had a roof but no side windows, had become old fashioned. He did have detachable side screens which he put up in very bad Winter weather. This splendid and usually reliable vehicle, which was started by a permanently attached crank handle, was described by Sir William Ball as having two speeds; dead slow and stop. Then there was to be seen John Endacott standing up in a smart riding mac on his two wheeled cart. As a small boy on a tricycle I was often spoken to by old Will Reddaway who seemed to me to be permanently attached to the saddle of his horse. Then, of course there was Rector, Mr ? James who rode everywhere including through the Arcade in Okehampton. When he rode into the Bank rumour had it that that was a hoof too far! If Mr James was short of time after the Sunday service at Sticklepath, he would ride directly to Belstone Church, tying up his pony at the Church gate. The pony was, of course, normally stabled at the Rectory.

Youngsters from about twelve upwards would walk into Okey led by Michael McCrum, later Headmaster of Eton, to visit one of the two cinemas, Carlton and Premier, and afterwards walk back having stopped off for fish and chips, or probably just chips, at the end of the Arcade. I was too young, but I do remember being taken from school to the Carlton to see a performance of Henry V with Laurence Olivier. One projector was a bit brighter than the other. When we got to King Henry going round his army's camp fires after dark, unfortunately we were on the duller projector.

The van den Arends might well have the record for living in the greatest number of houses in one village. We managed Birchy Lake (twice), Dagworthy, Great Down, Langmeads, the Mine House, Lopes House and the Barton. Before all that we lived for while in a bungalow next to the Barton Garage on the main road which had been commandeered as a meat store. It is now replaced by a service station.

Christopher van den Arend.