大象传媒

In 1938, when I was 14 years old, I was going to an elementary school, and in those days you finished school at that age: you would finish school on the Friday night and start work on the Monday. I got a job at a place called Whites Dairy in South Shields, delivering milk to schools. At the end of the 12 months 鈥� by that time it was 1939 鈥� my father decided that it was time that I, aged 15, should serve in the shipyard to get myself a 鈥渢rade鈥�. It was very important in those times that you had a trade by the time you were 21. So I went into the Tyne Dock Engineering Company the year the war started. I vividly remember the first time that we knew the war had really started, there was a lone plane in the sky, and all the authorities and everybody else assumed that it was a German plane. So everybody went into the air-raid shelters or dived under the table or under the stairs in case it was a German bomber. It turned out that it was not but everybody had assumed that it was.

The first year of the war was what they called the 鈥淧honey War鈥�: for some reason the Germans held back and everybody thought that it was going to be a nice, easy ride. A big mistake everybody made. Ofcourse then Germany attacked Poland and that's when the war really started. As the war really started, the German air-raids started, in 1940. During that time the government was dissolved as a single party government and formed the coalition, so then all laws and rules went out the window as far as conscription and rationing were concerned. It was very strict rationing.You had to go and queue in the food office which was opposite where South Tyneside College is now. I was living in a terraced house 鈥� when I think back on it now, in appaulling conditions. There was no indoor water: all the water had to be carried up the back stairs up to the kitchen, if you can call it a kitchen.

It was compulsory to carry gas-masks. Anybody caught not carrying one was pulled before the courts and fined. This was natural as because of the First World War we assumed that we would be chemically attacked. In 1941, when the war was at its height, the bombs were terrific. So much so that the council built two massive air-raid shelters in South Shields. I vividly remember one particular night, which was one of the heaviest bombings of the war: it was the night the German bombers came over in force and were specifically targeting the docks and shipyards. I was in this air-raid shelter: very primitive, a hole in the ground made of concrete with wooden seats, and there were hundreds of people crammed in like sardines. A bomb was dropped just 100 yards away on Derby Terrace. You can imagine the panic in that air-raid shelter. That same night the market place in South Shields was also hit. There was a massive air-raid shelter there as well, but it was hit and many people were killed. All the market square and the big shops were demolished. It was a terrible sight. But ofcourse we did not know all this till later, and I was working in the market dock: you had to cross the market place to get there. The police and ambulances were there, and we had to more or less plead to get into work. But when we got there we found that they had bombed the market dock. I remember the name of the ship: the 鈥淪tanhope鈥�. It had already been damamged and repaired in the dock, but this bomb had hit the dock and turned the Stanhope on its side. When we got to the dock, they had to get the burners with the ropes tied round them, and all the men hanging on to the ropes, and we had to burn the rivets out of the bottom of the ship to let the water come out of all the tanks so we could right the ship. We had to get on our bellies to try to get the rivets out, and naturally we were all terrified because at any moment the ship could have turned and we would have all been killed.

At that time the German submarines were also very active and they were sinking everything in sight. So there was a tremendous demand to get these ships which had been severely damaged back into the Tyne and then repaired so we could get them back and ready. There was a huge demand for coal to be transported to London so all the colliers had to load the ships with coal. It was to keep the power stations and ammunition factories going. You would not believe the number of collier ships the Germans sank. It was a terrible journey, and at the time seamen's conditions were appaulling. There was no running water 鈥� just a big bucket, and there was no ship accommodation like there is now: each man had to carry his own mattress. We called them 鈥渄onkey's breakfasts鈥� because they were made of straw. They cost exactly sixpence. Then ofcourse you carried your own grub as well. It took a week to get to London, then you had to get the coal out, whatever time of night or day it was, and head back to the Tyne. You had to cook your own meals: there was no cook on board the ships 鈥� they were only weekly boats as opposed to the deep-sea ships that went abroad. All they had as a means of defence was a Bofor 鈥減opp鈥� gun, which was useless. The German ships also mined the harbours so our ships sometimes could not even get out. You did as you were told and you went where you were told. Anybody who did not keep good timing in the docks were all put before the courts.

The thing that sticks in my mind about the war, was being hungry all the time. You were given two ounces of butter, two ounces of cheese, egg powder 鈥� no fresh eggs, no bananas, nothing like that. They used to say that the German submarine commanders were the first weight-watchers we ever came across - there was no obesity then!

As the war progressed and I got to 18, I was in a reserved occupation, in a shipyard, because the demand for workers was so huge. You were not called up but still you had to do fire-watching. I remember the first time, I was told 鈥淩eport tomorrow night鈥� when it was turning dark. All you got was what was called a stirrup-pump: a barrel of water with a bicycle pump. If there was a fire-bomb you were supposed to pump the water from one of these 鈥� but you may as well have thrown the bucket over, it would have done a better job. I was very fortunate: I used to work with an older man, a very kind man, and I do not know where he got it from, but he always used to fetch a couple of extra sandwiches for me. He would say, 鈥淵ou're only young, you need your food you know, Geordie鈥�. There used to be government-owned restaurants, but when you went in, you were lucky if there was any food 鈥� maybe you would find a tin of biscuits or some corn-beef sandwiches, but there were no sit-down meals or anything like that.

We had to serve one night per week as a Home Guard: you would go in at 6pm until 6am. You were given no gun of any description because they were in very short supply. We had to get the rockets and try to push them onto the launching pad. Next to the launching pad was a camp, where a lot of ATS women were serving. My wife Ethel was working as a cook in the camp which had heavy ant-aircraft batteries. There was only one cookhouse which provided for all the men and women in the camp. You only got one meal, usually at 6am. The cooks were up at 4am to get the meals ready. That really was the one good meal we had per week. Ethel had to work in appaulling conditions 鈥� coal-fired stoves, dormitaries made of steel where all the field mice came in and were running around. But she was told: 鈥淒o it or else鈥�. She was born in Hebburn. I remember one funny incident: it was about 5.30am and the cooks were just getting ready to serve the meals to the lads, and I was walking along and I saw one cook running along with her huge big bowl of liver and onions. She tripped up and all the liver and onions went everywhere. I saw her glance all about her, and then when she thought there was no-one there, she gathered up all the food back into the bowl and carried on her way to serve it to the lads. Ofcourse, no-one would have cared, they were so hungry they would have eaten anything, but it was so funny to watch her when she thought no-one had seen.

As I said, Ethel was called up for the ATS when she was just about 20 or something like that. She had not wanted to go because her mother had died some years before and she had had to leave her job so she could look after her family, especially her father who was not in very good health. But she had to go. She became engaged to a sailor on the HMS Kelly: the most famous navy ship of all. Lord Mountbatton was the captain. Coming into the Tyne, the Kelly was given a big welcome home after being bombed and shelled in battle, and everyone at the docks were waving the flags. However these ships still contained all the dead seamen who had been killed. Ethel's brother was one of the men who had to go on board the ship to retrieve the bodies, and horrifyingly one of the bodies was Ethel's fiance. You can imagine how awful that was. She was only about 22 or 23.

All forms of public entertainment had been closed down during the war 鈥� all the picture houses (what we call 鈥渃inemas鈥� today) and dance halls were shut. But they used to hold dances for the servicemen and women every so often, and it was at one of these that I met Ethel. I soon found out about the tragedy she had recently been through so it was not until a bit later that the romance started. But once it had started it was all very romantic 鈥� we were always meeting in dark corners and in doorways, stolen kisses, that kind of thing, as we had to fit it in around the work that we had to do, which was all very strict at that time. Nevertheless our romance survived the war, and we have been happily married ever since, for 60 years now.

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