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The Life of a Child on the Home Front — Part 2

by
Peter Kendall

Part One is at:

A4093481

My mother saw to it that we had clean clothes to wear and some money to pay for anything we might need. I had my dinner money, and in case I had to call at a shop or get something for my bicycle, I was given enough. I stayed to school dinners to help with the rations - I was the only one who did this.

My mother could sew, alter garments, make new ones, and make new ones out of old ones. Lots of her friends had children and she did lots of sewing for them, but instead of taking money for payment, she would take food. Even if we didn't eat the food, mother would take what was on offer and exchange it for something which we did eat. This was called "bartering". It was legal, not like getting things on the "black market". We used the fish and chip shops quite a lot, but the fishing boats could only use the waters off the west coast, so even the fish and chip shops were shut for several days each week. One meal we had quite often was a bought fish, mashed potatoes, a tin of peas and some parsley sauce.
Again, we had what we could get for tea. Jam and bread was all we had on many occasions, so mother had a continual problem with food and how to feed us all.

At one time, we kept some hens, so we could have some fresh eggs. We exchanged our egg ration for some meal to feed the hens. I went vegetarian and gave up my meat ration so I could get more cheese. I wasn't too keen on the meat in those days. It was often fatty and gristly, even the tinned corned beef, or bully beef.

As a nine year old, I didn't realise the full implications of the war and what it meant. The way events in Europe moved didn't concern me - I just couldn't understand what it was all about. But life on the "Home Front" as it was called, did concern me. I was the youngest member of the family and whilst at home, I helped mother around the house as much as possible. I was home soon after 4 o'clock. I learned to fold sheets and towels and other washed linen. I helped get sticks and coals ready for the fire. I helped mix cakes and puddings, and at times kneaded bread. If mother managed to get some extra sugar she made some jam, especially if it was blackberry season, when apples were available too. Mother was busy all the time.

Not long after the war started, my brother had to go to work as a "Bevin Boy" in a coal mine. He went as an engineer, looking after all the machinery. This meant that he started work at 6 o'clock in the morning, so he had to be up early to get there. He was a bit useless at looking after himself, so mother had to get up first, get his breakfast, pack his lunch, then see him off. He refused to use the works canteen. This put a lot of strain on mother, but she managed to cope. Later on he got a little motor-cycle which eased the time somewhat, but getting him out of bed on a morning was a real drag for my mother. My brother wouldn't move until the last possible moment. He was allowed about 2 gallons of petrol a month to get him there and back. That was all the petrol our family was allowed.

Soon after, my sister had to go into the ATS, so we didn't see her except when she was on leave. She was sent to Oswestry to work on something new called RADAR. We didn't know what RADAR was, and weren't allowed to talk about it even if we did! All we knew was that it was very important. Later on, she was posted to Clyde Bank and Berwick-on-Tweed. These places were so far away from Yorkshire, they seemed like the other side of the world to me. We only had bicycles, and travelling any distance was difficult far us. Just getting my brother to the pit at Crigglestone, a distance of 4 miles, was hard enough!

My father was on duty 24 hours on and 24 hours off, so he couldn't be in the Home Guard. He was sent to set up a new Prison Camp just outside Wakefield, called New Hall. In those days, it was for "trusted prisoners" only. It was simply some huts in the middle of a wood, with no walls or fences, just a splash of paint on a tree to mark the boundary. They had pigs, hens and soft fruit trees, strawberries and some fields of cereals. They supplied other prisons with what they grew. One good feature about this job was the fact that we could buy prison bread. It cost 3 halfpence a loaf, or 2 for 2 pence halfpenny. Not only was it cheap, but it was freshly baked and very nourishing. The bread tasted delicious with just butter on it alone.

I felt that by doing what I could to help mother, like running errands, eating out and doing jobs around the house, would make the task of keeping the household running much easier for her. She was seldom unwell, but occasionally she would get a severe headache. She worked so hard for us all, I am sure it was the strain of everyday life and all the extra jobs she had to do. Mother would have to go to bed with a cold flannel on her forehead in a darkened room. Sometimes she was sick, and could take neither liquids nor solids. The next day she would usually feel able to eat half a slice of toast and drink a cup of weak tea, then gradually, as she felt better during the day, she would consume a little more. I know exactly how she felt, because I have experienced the same migraines myself over the years.

Whilst all this daytime activity was going on, German Air Raids had started. We used to get out of bed and go to the shelters when the sirens went. We would sit there talking or dozing until the All-Clear went, when we would stagger back to bed and fall asleep. We were allowed to turn up at school at any time next morning, if we had had a night's sleep interrupted by an Air Raid. We did have some bombs and land mines dropped near us, which made the whole house shake and the windows rattle.

A lane ran down the side of our "new" house which led to several large fields with ponds. One day 3 small tanks appeared on the scene; they were kept in the grounds of an old building 200 yards up the road, known as "The Old Hall". These tanks were in the field at once, ploughing and churning the fields up and crashing through the dividing stone walls. These didn't stay very long though, and the place was taken over by the Bomb Disposal Squad. This unit was quite active in the early part of the war after air raids in Hull, Sheffield, Leeds, anywhere where bombs had been dropped.

One large bomb landed in HM Prison at Wakefield, in an old disused gas holder, which had to be made safe. Once these bombs were made safe, they were brought up to the Bomb Disposal Squad at "The Old Hall" where the TNT was steamed out. Some of these large empty bombs used to appear in city centres as collecting boxes for donations towards hospitals. The soldiers in the unit, who were mostly from London, gave us some incendiary bombs as souvenirs, but we used to throw them onto garden fires to watch them burn.

One incendiary bomb proved to be different from the others. I took it home and with the aid of my older brother, we unscrewed the base. Then we found the way in blocked by something else. He suggested knocking a screw into what appeared to be just a little hole, screwing it in, then extracting the bits with a pair of pliers. So the bomb was firmly fitted in the vice, which we had on a workbench in our cellar. The screw was held in position by my brother, and then whacked with a hammer. Bang! It was the loudest bang I have ever heard. He had hit the detonator and that was it. Fortunately the contents failed to ignite, but my ears were left ringing for hours afterwards. The bomb spent the night in the garden and the next day we lit a fire and allowed it to burn out harmlessly, but I think we had a very narrow escape.

Later, after the raids had eased off, the BDS moved away and a local haulier took over the fields to graze his horses. The horses were used around town to distribute goods on short journeys from the railway yards to factories. Between 5 o'clock in the afternoon and 8 o'clock in the evening, these large shire horses would be walked from town to the lane next to our house and released into the fields, up to 100 at a time. Next morning at 5 o'clock, men would start to round them up again for the day's work. These periods with the horses coming and going were always noisy with the sound of large clomping metal horseshoes and shouting men.

Occasionally, we would receive a parcel from North America, thanks to some distant relative. These were always very much appreciated. It was like Christmas morning when we opened one, as they usually contained items of food or goods which were in short supply here. One day we received a parcel from the relative's neighbour, which they had kindly sent us. But what a disappointment! When we opened it, all it contained was a bottle of saccharine tablets and some pan scrubbers. However, my mother managed to barter them for something else which we did need.

Not only was shopping a nightmare, but public transport was always so crowded. The buses to our village had 3 possible routes, which started from town in 2 different places. Then getting on the bus with baskets and bags was yet another ordeal. Whenever possible I would meet my mother in town, help with the shopping, then carry as much as I could home on my bicycle, Taxis were out of the question, because of the expense and the shortage of petrol. We could actually get a train to the village; it was only one stop, but the stations were not convenient when carrying bags. Someone once compared my bike to a removal van! We all had bicycles in those days and used them all the time; for going to work, to school, for errands. Sometimes we used to cycle into the countryside for a picnic, or just for enjoyment to take our minds off the war.

My mother used to disappear on her bicycle from time to time. She would just say she was "going to see someone", but it was her return that was welcome, especially if she brought home a pot of jam, or a tin of treacle, something to put on, or eat with bread, which would fill the tummy. Sometimes she would bring a garment to make, or one to alter, but you could bet your last shilling some food would be involved somewhere along the line, knowing my mother. She would go to any lengths to get us food. She even rented an allotment on the railway sidings so that she could grow some vegetables. It was a really big problem, but we obviously got through it and survived.

The whole country was trying to survive and money raising weeks for towns and cities were organised; events like War Weapons Week, Wings for Victory and Warships Week. I remember Warships Week very well, because a picture of a galleon I painted won me 2nd Prize in a competition. The prize was 3 two and sixpenny (12½p) savings stamps - a fortune in those days.

Some of these events sound interesting and exciting, but the war was an experience I would not want to go through again. What I have learnt is that war and conflict are to be avoided at all costs. We must all try to make the earth a beautiful, peaceful place in which to live.

Pr-BR

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