大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War website by Lynn Hughes on behalf of Betty Cooney (Boon), the author and has been added to the site his/her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

I worked in Devonport Dockyard from 1937 to 1944, in the Expense Accounts Office and our office was split into sections and scattered about the yard. At first it seemed strange; in our small section we missed our colleagues. But we soon adjusted to circumstances and settled down.

I became friendlier with a girl called Molly who had been entered from the Exam that had been held 2 or 3 years before mine. Every one of the girls in my section lived within the Plymouth boundaries. They were able use the buses that were quite frequent at that time because of the hundreds of Dockyard workers who used to go home to lunch. They had 1 陆 hour鈥檚 break, but my friends soon found the buses that were convenient for them although our lunch break was for 1 hour only. Some of them could even walk to and fro and still have time to gobble their meals. Molly was one of these; she lived in Renoum Street. Because I lived at Plymstock, it was quite impossible for me to get home I used to take sandwiches and whatever my mother had packed for me, and I used to eat them in solitary grandeur (or lack of it!) at my desk.

One day Molly remarked that it must be lonely for me in the empty office, the next day she told me that her mother had suggested that I should take my lunch to their house. It was wonderful to leave with the other girls; I don鈥檛 know which I enjoyed more Molly鈥檚 company or the hot Cup of tea that her mother gave me. Her mother was a generous sweet matured woman and she would have willingly shared their meal with me. But my mother sent her thanks and forbade me to eat up their rations, food was very scarce, whenever possible I would be given a slice of carrot cake or such, with my tea.

I enjoyed my lunch times now and I got to spend a great deal of time with them on our free evening and weekends. Molly would come to my home when there was a village dance and she would spend the night with us. If a special film happened to be showing in the town centre, if we had an evening free from overtime, I would spend the night at her home. The Keyham area was very badly bombed, and once when the raids had been very bad, we were told in the lunchtime that the army had arrived with their bomb disposal lorries to detonate and carry away the unexploded bombs.

They had been busy all the morning we were told, and were preparing to leave will their load of bombs. We had swallowed our tea hastily and rushed off out of the door so that we would be back at our desks in time. There were a few soldiers leaning against their lorry smoking cigarettes and obviously trying to relax before starting their journey. When they saw us they brightened up and tried to joke and laugh with us. We had to tell them that we couldn鈥檛 stop talking or we would be late for work (disappointing for us as well)! They asked where we worked and when we told then 鈥淭he Dockyard鈥� they said they would be passing the Dockyard and would give us a left. We went across and looked into their huge covered lorry. It was full of bombs, incendiaries small bombs, medium bombs, large bombs and worst of all some landmines. We backed hastily away and 鈥渙h no, thank you鈥�, they assured us that they all had been made safe. Because we had lost a few precious minutes and we had such faith and trust in our fighting men so many of them our own generation, we accepted their offer of a lift.

They helped us up into the lorry; we selected our bomb-seats, waved to Molly鈥檚 mother and were driven slowly and carefully away. I had chosen a land mine to sit on because it seemed to offer firmer and more comfortable seat. It was only a short ride and soon we were drawing up opposite the Dockyard gates. Some of our friends were also returning from lunch break as we arrived. They could hardly believe their eyes as they saw us being helped to the ground from a bomb disposal lorry by our brave uniformed soldiers. The astonishment in their eyes soon turned to envy as we told them of our unexpected and exciting lunch break adventure.

On the day that the oil tanks at Turn Chapel were bombed I was at work as usual and looking forward to leaving at 5:15 on one of the precious evenings when we were not having to work overtime. I had arranged to meet Bill a young soldier in the East Surrey Regiment, who was stationed at Plymstock. His section was made up of very young men who were still training after their call up. All our mothers made these boys welcome in our homes knowing that all over the country other mothers were doing the same for their boys. Our home had become a second home for Bill during his hours off duty. He became like family. We met; I didn鈥檛 waste anytime before we went into the cinema, Bill and I agreed that we would try to get back home before it got too late. In the hope that we might miss any of the air raids that were becoming so frequent. We were unlucky! I think it was about 6 o鈥檆lock or shortly after when the sirens sounded we decided to make a quick dash for it. Bill to get back to his section and I to get back to my parent鈥檚 who would be worrying. It was winter, in the 4th December and the evenings were dark, only the faint light that fell from the search lights guided us as we stepped from the cinema into the blacked out street.

At first it didn鈥檛 seem too bad a plans overhead; and we soon reached the outskirts of the city centre. As we started down the streets that led to Prince Rock, we were glad that we had our steel helmets. Mine was of Dockyard issue and we had to carry them and our gas masks at all times. Bill鈥檚 was part of his normal equipment. The planes came and anti aircraft fire and bombs exploring seemed to happen all at once. We could hear the twirling scream of shrapnel as we dodged from doorway to doorway until we reached Prince Rock. We knew that nothing could have saved us from a direct hit, but we were only too aware of the danger of bomb blast, so we used whatever shelter we came across walls and doorways. As we approached Laira Bridge that spanned the River Plym, the light turned orange and it was as if all hell had been let loose. We were deafened by the explosions, and the sound of falling bombs, the anti aircraft and fire from the planes all mixed up with the screaming shrapnel; the fumes of burning oil were becoming stronger and made running not easy. I remember Bill pulling me with him and crouching down beside some barricade as another bomb landed too close to us for comfort. Then we came to the bridge itself, to cross that bridge presented an indescribably terrifyingly daunting prospect. But we had no choice we had to go we forced ourselves on to the bridge. There was only the iron railing between us and what seemed like the end of the world. The whole area at Turn Chapel was ablaze and black smoke was blowing up to the sky where we were used to seeing the oil tanks, and the sound of exploding bombs and the sound of aircraft was like son mad nightmare. While the searchlights were still slashed above it all, searching for the enemy planes. We ran in dreadful haste. Bill was wonderful I can鈥檛 imagine how I would have coped without him and at last we reached the end of the bridge and collapsed in exhaustion against the walls of the Morley Arms public house. We rested for a few minutes and then set off again running along close beside the advertisng boarding that lined one side of the long straight road that led to Ellburten. We branched off to the right and wed were in Pomphett and so on into Plymstock village. We turned of into the leafy lanes that led to my father鈥檚 fields and where our house stood. We burst thankfully through the door to the intense relief of my parents. But their cares were not over; they told us that my youngest brother also a Bill had gone off on his motorcycle to help fight the flames at Hooe and Turn Chapel. He was no yet 18 and whilst awaiting his call up he did despatch rider duties for the Home Guard. My mother made us a cup of tea, but Bill would not stop to eat and having deposited me safely home he went off again to report to he section.

We learned later that he and his fellows had been fire fighting nearly all night. My brother Bill returned safely some hours later. The fires burned for 5 days and nights when the eventually died down, the last glow disappeared the world seemed strangely dark.

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