大象传媒

RECOLECTIONS OF WORLD WAR II
by
Enid Mary Brown (nee Holmes)

I was born on 1st May 1926, the only child of Shadrach (better known as Jim or Jimmy) and Mary Holmes. Our home was in the village of Grosmont, situated in what is now the North Yorkshire Moors National Park. Grosmont is positioned close to the historic old fishing port of Whitby and can be found by following the valley of the River Esk inland for about five miles.

When War broke out I was still at school. There had been talk that there may be a War for a long time. In the months immediately before the declaration everyone was given a gas mask because it was felt that there may be a possibility that Hitler would use poison gas against us. I have vivid memories of being at school and our teacher going through a drill with us to show us how to use the masks. Being children, we found these drills to be extremely funny, not only did everyone look very strange, but the masks were made of rubber and made noises (rather rude ones) when you breathed out. We found this to be hilarious and couldn't stop laughing, that was until our school master got extremely cross with us. His name was Mr. Moore and I can still remember his exact words today. He said "Yes, you may well laugh. I was at school when the last war started but before it had finished, I had got this and this" and he pointed to scars on his face. After that our Gas Mask drills were more sober affairs. I was later to remember how true his words were as every boy in my class other than one who was excused on health grounds was either in the Army, Navy or Air Force. Fortunately they all came home but there were many hundreds of thousands who were not so lucky.

World War II was declared on 3rd September 1939, I think the time was 11.00am. I remember looking out of my bedroom window in the afternoon a few hours after Churchill made his broadcast and thinking to myself that nothing had changed, we were at war but the sun was still shining and everything was just as peaceful as before. My illusion was soon to be shattered.

A blackout was imposed, this meant that nobody could show any light at all after it had got dark. People dealt with this either by using blackout curtains which were made with very heavy black material or by making frames which fitted into the window and were either covered with black material or heavy brown paper. We used the type with the frame fitted into the window. It was very important to make sure that the measures you took were working properly as anyone caught showing a light was severely fined. It was very difficult to get from outside the house to inside without letting a light show, we managed this by having two doors, the normal outside door and another one inside, we always had to make sure that one door was closed before the other one was opened. The blackout applied to everyone which meant that businesses had also to make sure that no lights could be seen. Later in the war, after I left school, I worked in Whitby for a firm called 'Town Tailors' where the girls who worked the sewing machines were each responsible for certain blackouts. There were ones in the roof that had to be pulled with ropes, oh, what a panic when a rope broke! There were ones around the side windows which were similar to the ones we used at home, these were covered with brown paper. I remember one day some wag thought it funny to put a hole in one of them, consequently it let a beam of light shine right across the harbour. We never did find out who was responsible but nevertheless the firm was fined.

When I first left school I went to help Hannah who was a family friend and employed as cook at a large house owned at the time by Colonel Gladstone, I worked there for a while until I got a permanent job. In those days, jobs were hard to come by but the War changed all that. Most of the men were called up to serve in the armed forces, this meant that women had to step in to do their jobs. I suppose that this was really the start of equal opportunities because after the war, women had proved that they were equally as good as men and would not go back to the old ways of doing things. Who could blame them.

It was around this time that Grosmont had more than its fair share of bombs dropped on it. Some said that the Germans were trying to put out the three searchlights which had been placed halfway up the bank between Grosmont and Egton (even though they were about two miles away on the opposite side of the valley the searchlights were so bright that you could read a newspaper by them outside our house when they were on). Others said that the Germans were trying to destroy the stacks of timber which had been brought from the docks and stored alongside the railway lines between Glaisdale and Grosmont. Most men of my Dad's age had to go into either the Home Guard or do some other kind of war work. My Dad ended up doing night duty, fire watching some of those timber stacks. Planes would come over at night dropping incendiary bombs that were meant to cause fires and others which were what I call proper bombs which would cause immense amounts of damage.

One night they dropped about five bombs, one of them hit the station platform and as our house was quite close to the station it blew in all our ceilings and did quite a bit of damage. My Mum went to live at her sisters at Aislaby, I went with Hannah to Golonel Gladstones and Dad managed as best he could. He was still fire watching through the night but would go to Aislaby on his night off. Once or twice a week Mum would come back to our house to bring food for Dad and do what she could at home. Builders came and repaired the damage, it took a long time. Finally when it was finished the ladders were removed, this was about five o'clock in the evening. By two o'clock the following morning though things were worse than before. There was another bombing raid that night, this time with an almost direct hit on our house and also on the school. Until this damage was repaired the children had to go to school in Mens Institute and Methodist Schoolroom which had to be adapted accordingly. We carried on as before.

Colonel Gladstones house stood in an elevated position, overlooking the Esk Valley. One day while I was living there we heard a plane coming up the valley, this was unusual as most of the bombing raids were at night. There was just one plane on its own, Hannah and I rushed outside to see it. The plane was flying inland along the valley and from where we stood it was level with us. We could see all it's markings very clearly, I particularly remember the black Swastika on the side. Then we heard the bombs drop. I am pleased to say that only one exploded although it had dropped several, the next thing I remember was Colonel Gladstone yelling at us, "get your b----y! selves inside" he shouted. This incident must have given Colonel Gladstone quite a fright as not long aferwards he and his family departed for Ilkley which he obviously thought was safer.

The villagers talked about this for a long while afterwards and would debate about what had happened to the unexploded bombs. There had always been arguments about one bomb in particular which had gone through the roof of a shed and out through the wall, most said that it had carried on going and was lying quite a long way off but my Dad had always maintained that the bomb was in the ground just outside the shed. The arguments continued with everyone thinking that they were right until one day when my Dad made a bet with some other locals and they decided to dig down and see if his theory that the bomb was in the ground just outside the shed was correct. They started to dig but hadn't got very far when the bomb was found. It was lying just below the surface and it was still alive. The bomb disposal squad were called and it was made safe much to everyones relief.

After that things quietened down in Grosmont for a while. I continued my job working at Town Tailors in Whitby, they were a Leeds based firm who took over what was the market hall in Whitby and turned it into a clothing factory making Khaki uniforms for the Army and later De-mob suits. When soldiers were demobbed from the Army each of them was given a suit of civilian clothes amongst other things. Believe me, some of them fitted where they touched. My job was in the office and I enjoyed it very much, I worked out all the time sheets and bonuses for the girls and calculated how much money would be required to pay them each Friday. The manageress was Mrs. Clark (later to become Mrs. Stewart) we got on very well. Periodically we would have a visit from the factories office controller and one of the directors to see how things were getting along, we would also be visited by Mr. Bennison, the head mechanic. I had a great admiration for him, he was a very clever man. The factory still exists today although the ownership has changed several times, until recently it was owned by Burberry who are famous for their raincoats.

It would not be possible to put down my memories of the war without mentioning rationing. Everyone had a ration book and I think we were allowed 4oz margarine, 2oz butter, 4oz sugar, 2oz lard,
10 pennyworth of meat and 2 pennyworth of corned beef per person per week. We were fortunate because Dad kept a pig for which we were allowed so much meal as long as you had a ration book cancelled for a whole year. Friends and neighbours used to save us their vegetable peelings and a local farmer gave us small potatoes to help feed it, then when we killed it we gave them all a piece of bacon or lard which we had rendered down. Things that were brought in from abroad were very difficult to get, dried fruit for instance was very scarce so when we did manage to get any it was saved up to make a Christmas Cake and Christmas Pudding. People who could afford it often went to a cafe for meals to save up some of their rations, there was a British Restaurant in Whitby which provided reasonably priced if not very good meals but as the old saying went, beggars couldn't be choosers.

When you mention rationing, food is what we always think of but there was of course clothes rationing too. Shoes caused my biggest headache, they were mostly leather soles in those days and I was forever having to have them soled and heeled. Dad used to put some metal pieces on the toes and heels to try to make them last a bit longer. Nothing had just one life in those days, when something was worn out the best bits would be used to make something else. A coat would become a skirt then end up being cut into strips to make a rug, a sheet would be made into pillow cases, tea towels, handkerchiefs etc. and so it went on. Nothing was ever wasted. Towards the end of the war we could get parachute panels which were saved from old parachutes then sold for making underwear and such like. I used them to make slips and nightdresses. Ah well, those were the days!

When the War finally came to an end in May 1945 there were great celebrations some of which I missed because I still had to go to work to calculate the wages so that the girls could be paid on time. There were no trains running because of the celebrations so I had to cycle to Whitby which was no mean feat as it was all up hill and down dale along Eskdale Side but I made it and the wages were ready for the girls on Friday night. Mrs. Stewart, our manageress also came in to keep me company. When I eventually got home the people from the village were still celebrating with a dance which went late into the evening so I didn't miss out altogether. Although this was the end of the War in Europe, the War in Japan still continued until August. When it finally ended we thought that War would be over for good but it seems that we still see conflicts continuing somewhere in the world even to this day.

I am certain of one thing which is that there was a much better atmosphere in the country during World War II. Whatever you had then would be shared by others but all that seems to have been replaced with an "I'm all right Jack!" attitude. Finally, I would like to finish by saying that I hope my grandchildren are never faced with experiences such as the ones I have described otherwise I feel that the lives which were lost and sacrifices that were made would all be in vain.

(This piece was sent in by Ann Powdrill, daughter of Enid Brown. My mother wrote these recollections a few years ago for my daughter who came home from school charged with the task of interviewing a relative about World War II).

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.