大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Pat Yates, an Age Concern volunteer, on behalf of Leonora (Nora)MacKillop,and with her permission.

I was born in Arnhem, Holland, and remember going to school over 'The Bridge Too Far' When war broke out I was sixteen and life was hard. In 1944, living in Nijmegen, we were bombed out and lived for six weeks on cardboard sheets in an office building. Afterwards I lodged with a seller of artists' materials and later lived in a cellar where pianos were stored.

One day, sitting in the cellar, I was shocked to hear someone coming downstairs. I called out, first in Dutch and then German (afraid it was one of the Herrenvolk) and then a voice called out in English: a Yank had parachuted into the garden! We quickly warned him to get out fast to the British lines as we hadn't then been liberated. He went, but left behind his parachute which we made into lovely blouses and underwear.

Food was so scarce in Holland in 1944 that we got what we could by any means, and barter was one way. From the Americans we had received clothes parcels but the clothes were so ancient - Quaker clothing that seemed to be from the 19th century - and so old and musty that we wouldn't wear them. So my friend and I decided to take the train to the country and exchange the clothes for food. The train was well-known as the 'smugglers' train' but the police turned a blind eye especially if you were a young and quite attractive girl. Anyway, we went to this farm where we got 50 eggs and a side of bacon to take back. Before we left the farmer gave us lunch. They made a huge pot of porridge and we sat around it with our spoons dipping into the communal pot. Hiding the side of bacon to take home was a problem, so the farmer made a hole in the top of it and threaded a rope through the hole and tied it round my neck so I could carry it against my body under my clothes. It was August and very hot and the bacon was fat. By the time I reached home, the bacon and I were both dripping! The eggs were easier; we put them on the luggage rack out of view and got them home safely without a single one broken.

For me, the best part of the war was meeting my husband. He was a Major in the Scots Guards and was organising a posh dance. I didn't have a ticket but got in by a back entrance. We first got talking when he offered me a cigarette - a Gold Flake. He was engaged at the time to a WAAF officer and when she knew about me she broke up with him and gave him his ring back. When he and I became engaged He wanted me to have that second-hand ring, but I said "not...likely"

We were married in 1946 in Nijmegen and then came to live in England first in Church Stretton and afterwards in Shrewsbury. My Scots Major was Colin MacKillop who was Horticultural Advisor to Shropshire for 30 years until his retirement at the age of sixty.

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