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This story was added to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ People's War website by Helen Jubb, ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Leeds, on behalf of the contributor, Mildred Holdsworth, with her permission.

As well as our work on the land we all had to take a turn at ‘fire watching,’ on the hostel roof. Armed with a helmet and axe, stirrup, pump, bucket of water, bag of sand, (for the incendiaries that Hitler might send), and a card permitting us to break down a door if necessary. Warmly wrapped in a balaclava, helmet and warm clothes, we waited and watched on the roof till the ‘all clear,’ sounded and when it did we tumbled down to the kitchen for hot cocoa, toast and jam. One night that I was on duty, after the sirens sounded the alarm, the sky was lit up with fires and searchlights, great consternation- York was ‘getting it.’ Damaged in the air raid, amongst other places, was St Martins, Coney Street, a fifteenth century church mentioned in the Doomsday Book. The remains still stand today with a plaque telling what happened in 1942.

On cattle market day we walked the bullocks, (young castrated bulls, to be sold for meat when they had been fattened up), from the farm to the market on the High Street. I wore some iron clad clogs that made a resounding clang on the main street that was empty of the usual shoppers so early in the morning. I had a stick to whack them into the ring for the farmers to make their bids.

Another time I had to take a cow to a farm possessing a stud bull, up Forrest Lane and over the Railway Line. The obstinate cow would not cross over the rails. I had a frightful time pushing or pulling her over the rails. I had to tether her to a telegraph pole when a train went by. The return journey after the bull had obliged, the cow tripped home quite gaily.

Besides our walking-out uniform we were provided with dungarees and milking coats. Boots were not available at the time, only wellies, which were useless when using a sharp four-pronged fork, as I well know as I pronged my big toe.

When the hostel opened for the land girls, the farmers were reluctant to employ us and one bright counsellor sent us to weed and tidy the local cemetery. We were glad to be working as it was boring hanging about. Next day the local paper’s headlines were: ‘Land Girls Dig Graves,’- uproar in the district. That put a stop to that activity---a twisted media report even in those days. As time went by we showed the farmers we were not afraid of hard work. They started employing us until all forty of us had a job to go to.

Our really old fashioned machinery managed to mow the grass, or corn etc. pulled by the horses or a tractor. A great deal of manual work is replaced today by modern machinery, but then the war demanded more metals so we just had to make do. What we used then are museum pieces now. I never worked with any POW’s but some of us did and they said that the Germans were the best workers. There were plenty of hens running about freely, they had coops to lay their eggs but some of them were sly and found secret places about the farm to lay. Egg collecting was made more interesting by the search, quite a treasure hunt. I never had an egg offered to me, they all had to go to the Ministry of Food, apart from the farmers’ share. During the hot weather some of us cut our worn out trouser legs shorter, but it gave us less protection, so our legs would get badly scratched. But girls will be girls and had to look fashionable—even sitting on a load of foal-yard deposits. That reminds me, one of the jobs during winter was to fork out the foal-yard contents, which were now well trodden down and drying out, the nitrate glistening in the sunlight. We loaded them into the cart, took the cart to the field. With a wide pronged fork, standing on the edge of the cart dug out a forkful of manure, (we called it something else), and with a deft twist of the wrists, sprayed it over the field to nourish the earth for the next crop. Nowadays of course, it is all done with a machine. After a morning like this, we thought nothing of sitting on the same cart eating the contents of our lunch box. Miraculously no infection ever occurred, I expect we ponged a bit, we never noticed…

Helping a cow to calve was another experience. If she was having difficulty, the farmers tied the calved legs as they showed, and we all pulled as the cow bore down. It made me feel like a midwife. If it was a bull the lads told us it would be sold off for potted meat. I was not sure if they were kidding or not.

Once a rather violent sow had to be kept in her sty until she littered. ‘Be careful with Yon,’ I was advised. After filling her trough she made a dive between my legs. Fortunately the gate was shut, while I was splattered with mud. After that she delivered thirteen piglets, behaved more calmly and loved it when I tickled behind her ears. One piglet was a ‘rutting,’ the sow had crushed it while lying on her side to feed the rest of her family. No one wanted a humpback piglet, maybe he went for porkpies?

We Land Girls became stronger and healthier as time went by, but it played havoc with the hands, but who cares. We would not dream of being soft and wearing gloves to work. The photo of the group of Land Girls during my time at Chain Lane Hostel was taken outside the Duty Hut. The chap at the back used to negotiate with the farmers to see how many Land Girls he required and Molly, next to him, sorted out suitable people for the jobs. He also drove the jeep, which took the ‘gangers’ to various farms, collecting them at the end of the day. Our destinations included a fifty-mile radius around Harrogate.

In the other picture, myself holding a puppy, I had just finished whitewashing a cow shed. We all dressed like that most working days, breaches were worn during winter. We were allowed to wear our ‘civvies,’ (our own clothes), off duty: just as well, the heavy lace up shoes did not do much for the dance floor.

Despite the war, they were happy days. Working in the Women’s Land Army was not as exciting as some of the other services, I expect, but it gave one a different perception of country life. After all, the people of our land had to be fed- I reckon we contributed well towards that- oh yes- we certainly did our bit!

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