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In 1943, I was living in Kingston Upon Hull. We had been very badly bombed. I was working in a grocers shop at this time, totally convinced that I would go crazy before I became old whilst counting food coupons.
One day, one of my school friends came home on leave from the Women’s Land Army looking all healthy and tanned. As I was nineteen years old, totally bored and due for being called up, anyway, I decided to volunteer.
I encountered some opposition to my services. This being due to my size. I was under five feet tall. However, I didn’t let them put me off. I went ahead and joined the W.L.A. causing much hilarity in my oversized uniform. Then I was sent twenty five miles away to Hawden Hostel.
Of course this changed my life completely, after the noise and dirt of the city. The sheer paradise of the countryside, the never ending skyline, and row upon row of vegetables. It was all a totally new experience for me. I soon made lots of friends, and I might add, lots of blisters. Now fifty years on I’m glad to say only the friends still remain.
I remember the job I had trying to put the collar on a horse. I would have to stand on a box, pull it’s head down by it’s hair and then throw it on. Even picking potatoes was a task. Of course it used to make everyone’s back ache, but trying to empty the basket was my problem. I used to have to climb onto the wheel of the cart to empty mine. The favourite trick was to get the horse to move, sending me flying; basket and all.
We did every job imaginable. Ditching, dyhing, chopping hedges, pulling sugar beet, flax, turnips, wurzels and kale etc. Threshing was a real dirty job; especially if you were working at the side of the machine, spreading out the Hessian chaff sheets, which we had to rake all the rubbish onto. Then gathering the four corners together we had to carry it over our shoulders and across to the fold yard with it swinging away and banging on our bottoms as we went.
‘Lounces’ or lunch was most welcome. Even if it was only tea in a greasy bucket and enamel mug to accompany the sandwiches that we had prepared at 0620 hrs that morning.
We were often sent out to neighbouring farms. Sometimes by lorry and sometimes by bike. Some were quite near to the airfield. Here we used to count the Lancaster Bombers flying out to bomb Germany. This was the obvious sign that the night’s dancing would be postponed. (We all enjoyed the dances at the Shire Hall). But more sadly, that someone’s sweetheart might not be returning home.
The fun we had, helped us through the dark days of the war. It also helped those who were waiting. My friend Joan was waiting for her ‘Burma Bill’. Others were waiting for their boyfriends to come home from the Japanese POW Camps. How we all danced and rejoiced in Hull City Square on V.E. Day.
I married a handsome Latvian, who I worked in the fields with. We now have a grown up family and are still happily married after all these years.

Muriel Berzins.
Aldbrough. Humberside.

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