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I was eighteen and a half when I was called up. I had the choice of nursing or war work, and chose the latter because nursing didn’t appeal. Prior to this I had been a shop assistant at the co-op and had not been in a factory before. I was sent to Handsworth in Birmingham to train as a miller for 3 months, but they could not find me a job in milling. So I was there for 7 months in the end, and was then sent to British Small Arms. However I was unsuitable for their work so was eventually sent to the BTH in Port St where I was put on a ‘Capstone’- a different machine to what I had been trained for.

My mother was on the fire service. My brother was a messenger for the fire service and when the sirens went they had to go on duty (my brother was only 16). This left me and my father to find our way to the local air raid shelters. I remember one night flares dropping so low I think you could have touched them with a line prop. There were fires all around us on the grass, but we managed to get to the shelter unharmed.
My grandparents were in their late 70s and used to stay in bed throughout the raids. They thought it was too much trouble to get dressed- and at least if anything happened they’d be comfortable! However, they survived and celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary during the war.

I had been working at the BTH for 2 years when the war finished. I remember D-day being a lovely sunny morning. I came in on the bus and saw all the aircraft going to France. Everyone on the bus was pleased and excited. From then on I suppose we worked harder. I made good friends there- everybody was sociable and mixed more than people do today. After the war I went back to my old job as shop assistant.

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