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These stories were submitted to the People's War site by Christine Wadsworth of Wakefield Libraries and Information Services on behalf of Gladys and Val and have been added with their permission. They fully understand the site's terms and conditions.

When the first air raid came in the early 1940s, the Fire Station on Smawthorne Lane, Castleford was informed by telephone because it was a first aid post and people with minor injuries such as slight burns from incendiaries were brought in to be treated. The bombing caused two or three small fires at the back of the Station. Vickers Street Working Men’s Club was hit by a bomb and two or three landed in St Michael’s Churchyard.

Different warnings were given if enemy action was expected — standby, imminent and overhead which was a red warning. The siren was sounded from the Station.

Just before the war I worked for Lumbs glass manufacturers as a shorthand typist. A german called FW did general work in the office and seemed to be taking a lot of photographs also questioning staff. Just as war broke out he went back to Germany and joined the german army and Nazi Party.

At first I kept my own job, but then went into the Fire Service full-time. I had a rough-collie dog that seemed to know when the siren was going to sound and always went down to the Station with me, then he would return home, but come down again just before the all clear sounded to escort me home. If I was on standby I stayed at the Station all day and my husband brought food down to me accompanied by Laddie who liked to be fussed and wag his tail, which once caught fire. Luckily he wasn’t hurt! Laddie had been on a farm, but the husband was in the forces and the wife couldn’t cope with the dog and children. My Dad brought him home. Laddie once went missing on a picnic and we found him in the corner of a field rounding up sheep.

Someone who was a young child at the time, lived in Smawthorne Lane, opposite the Fire Station and doesn’t remember air raids, but remembers that she had a little shovel to push incendiary bombs off the road into the gutter to get them out of the way.

I was a bride-to-be in the 1940s and I and my mother and sister who was to be my chief bridesmaid had been for a fitting of our wedding clothes, just off Beancroft Road. We missed our turning in the blackout and thick fog, got hopelessly lost and ended up in Glasshoughton, in fits of giggles. We got home by trial and error!

My husband’s friend Wilf Leach had been missing a long time. One night there was a knock at the door and Wilf was there — he had been separated from his regiment. He was later transferred to a Scottish regiment as his own had been wiped out. Wilf and was later killed in action.

We took the cream off the milk and put it into a wide-necked jar then shook it until it formed into a softer consistency of butter — it didn’t taste too bad!

If you were in the know, it wasn’t too bad. One pork butcher offered a selection of different sorts of meat and pies twice a week in exchange for payment of money. A grocer offered double rations, a greengrocer had rabbits and hares available. Other people were not so lucky!

My husband worked down the pit and couldn’t get released, but he was in the ARP, at the Post in Barnes Road. He had an allotment and grew all the vegetables he could which meant that we were not short of veg.

The old Fire Station on Sagar Street was ready for use in an emergency and was used as a mortuary. One night the sirens went as I was standing outside, so I went into the Station and walked through the mortuary, but there was a body there. Staff shouted not to come through but it was too late!

In the 1960s I worked at RAF Chessington as a dispenser. Mungo M was pharmacist in charge of drug distribution. He had been a Sergeant in the Army during the war and had been at Dunkirk. It was the last day of the evacuation and he was on the beach waiting for a boat. It was very hot and he was sent to look for water, on his return with the water there was no one left and he saw the boat pulling away. He dropped the water and took a flying leap off the end of the jetty and held on to the boat before being helped on board. On return to England he and his colleagues were ranted and raved at by an officer for looking dishevelled and scruffy and having torn uniforms. This was actually done to keep morale up!.

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