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15 October 2014
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Working for the AFS in Devon

by Julia

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Archive List > The Blitz

Contributed byÌý
Julia
Location of story:Ìý
Exeter, Devon
Background to story:Ìý
Civilian Force
Article ID:Ìý
A8998500
Contributed on:Ìý
30 January 2006

I have taken these extracts from a hard backed exercise book my sister gave my mother a few years before she passed away, in which she wrote down a variety of memories.
She had wanted to be a Land Girl, but her varicose vein problem put paid to that. My father was in the fire service in London and was sent to Exeter, we think , after very bad experiences in London. He never spoke about those times.

After 6 months doing part-time with the AFS (Auxilliary Fire Service), going off to the station with tin hat and gas mask every time the siren went, I joined full-time, The fire service had their headquarters in a big house called Crossmeads at the top of Dunsford Hill, Exeter. All the girls there were new and there was very little furniture in the offices. We had a very small box switchboard which was in the garage of the house; there were no doors, only sandbags piled up, two chairs and the switchboard. There were three shifts of six girls, so we did two days and nights on duty and one day off,
Eventually after 7/8 months a huge cord switchboard was put in the house adjoining a mobilizing room where we could locate any of the fire engines. We knew the whereabouts of all the appliances from Plymouth to Bristol, so if a fire call came in we knew exactly from where to send the appliance. By then all the offices were filled by group officers with all the girls their office staff.
We didn’t have much to do with them, being the first ones there and not working the regular 9 to 5 hours, we stuck together. We had a lovely room at the top of the house — a sitting room, huge bathroom and a huge dormitory with ten beds, It was a long way down when the siren went in the night, we just pulled our trousers and tunics on over our pyjamas, our tin hats clanging all the way down.
Later the AFS became the NFS (National Fire Service) and we were up to our eyes. Plymouth and Bristol were suffering heavy raids and we had to be on duty at all times. Crossmeads was a huge house set in huge grounds and although they built Nissen huts in part of the grounds it was still lovely to go for walks in the grounds that were left. We couldn’t go outside the gates at all.
One night, we called it the Blitz, I was on switchboard duty when there was an enormous bang and the switchboard was out, not a sound out of it, Everyone was running around not knowing what to do. The Divisional Officer, the D/O, sent some of us girls out with the D/Rs, on the back of their motorbikes, to try and find communications to get through to Plymouth, Bristol etc. I went with one and we had got to South Street. The only thing we knew was that we suddenly found ourselves in a church doorway. Where the bike was we never discovered. The blast of a bomb had blown us off one way and the bike who knows where! We got transport back to headquarters and heard that most of the machines were just outside the city and doing nothing, so some of the officers went in cars to sort that out. If there had been communication I’m sure half of the city could have been saved.

Funny, I wasn’t worried about my parents; I knew somehow they’d be ok. After a horrific night it was my day off and it took me over an hour to get home as bombs had been dropped not 20 yards from our headquarters and fires were everywhere. Mum and Dad were ok. My dad had been on fire watch at work and had lain in the gutter with a petrified dog either side of him! My mum wanted me to check on my Aunty Gert and Uncle Bert who lived on the other side of Exeter. I cleaned up and changed my uniform. Only because I was in uniform was I allowed to get through. Fore St, High St and Sidwell St were just one mass of fire; mostly incendiary bombs had been dropped. Fire engines were everywhere, water was everywhere and falling masonry was everywhere. I had help from our own men and the police after I explained where I was going. I thought that was bad but when I reached Newtown it was dreadful. Houses leveled to the ground. Aunty Gert and Uncle Bert were OK; they had been making tea after the raid was over and a load of neighbours were there! What I had seen was dreadful, I never want to see it again. Yet, through it all I wasn’t scared. I think we were all given more strength and the people were so much more friendly; everyone helped each other.

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