大象传媒

Now in my matuared mellowed years I was doing a bit reminiscing of the days when my valley wasn't so green when you could not walk two miles in any direction without coming upon a Coal Mine, Drift, Black Slag Waste Heaps along with seeing worked out Colliery Derelict buildings from a past glorious era.
I never thought I'd live to see the day when there would no longer be any pits left in our County, as Durham was built upon coal.

Nowdays it's all this natural North Sea Gas with Gas Central Heating installed in our homes, but give me a good coal burning fire any day. You just can't beat them for warmth during cold wintery nights and toasting slices of bread in fron of the fire's dancing flames.

The toast just doesn't taste the same these days jumping out a blinking electric toaster. When we first got ours I overheard my wife bragging to the next door neighbour one day saying, "We've got a pop up one' that'll do four slices at a time".
How things have changed as I look back to my days of living in the old Coal Mining Community Village named Gurney Valley and starting my fist working day in the coal industry as a Bevin Boy back in 1943 recruited along with 50,000 others to help produce much needed coal for the War effort.
Recruitment by conscription to do National Service in the Coal Mines was the Brain child of the Rt. Hon. Ernest Bevin, Minister of Labour and National Service.
The system of balloting was done by more of an act of fate numbers draw. The digit's running from 0 to 9. If the end number from your National Service Registration Certificate was drawn from the cap that week then you were in: or should say,"Down" regardless of how much you wanted to go into the Armed Forces. You could protest as much and loud as you wanted against going into the Coal Mines but you still had to go, the next alternative being jail.

The dreamed up name of boy's by Bevin wasn't in my opinion a fair choice as we were doing a mans job and by the time demob day came around for us in 1948 we really were men in facing the future- nothing could be as bad as what we had endured.

I was lucky to be working in what the miner called "A happy Pit", we all worked and pulled together to help reach the collieries allotted production target by tonnage set against the number of men working.

Each Friday on ending our shift we didn't know how fast to come up the shaft and out of the pit, but the first thing everyone did was to look up at the Pit Head Pulley Wheels to see if the Union Jack flag was flying as then we knew the Pit had reached it's target. We all stuck our chests out with pride when it was; in fact the pit reached it's target every week in those days and they never bothered to take it down
untill it was flying in tatters, Then we got a new NCB flag when the pits were nationalised on January 1st 1947, at last we were the Pits new owners.

Most of the Colliery's in our County had very little mechanised coal cutting machinery, then most of the coal was hard won by the hewers usung wind compressed air hand held picks and all the wagons ( Tubs )
were filled by hand with large pan shovel's who's size would make any ordinary man weep.
The empty tubs were taken to the coal face by ponies and their handlers were called putters they were paid by piece work and paid by the score conveyed each time from the coal face by the ponies. All the coal seams didn't run straight and level but went up steep high sides and steep dips which would really task a ponies strengh. A lot of the workings were wet terrible conditions. They were breathing in shot smoke fumes from the explosives used by the coal hewers which hung about the workings for hours , or sometimes working through Black Damp gas which floated just above the floor with the air and oxygen content being so low that the oil lamps flame were almost nil. Then after a hard physical worked shift they would all come out with the coal hewers with thumping headaches.

The ponies never complained or maybe there was no one to hear them, after all they had no choice. At the pit where I worked they had 200 of these little animals stabled underground for all of their lives and never seeing the daylight, so without the ponies the pit targets would never have been reached. A commemorative Statue should be erected to these thousands of Gallant little animals and the Bevin Boys as without them the fight for coal for the War Effort would never have been won.
With every working shift the Old Death Reaper was never far away and if he swept forward his scythe he never pushed aside any favourites as all were cut down, face workers, Bevin Boys and pit ponies alike. My pit also had it's many fatel casualties, all good workers, some were my friends from whichI still remember them all as who could forget!
After Nationalisation things did start to improve though slowly at first untill we had Pit Head Baths with hot water showers, a luxury.
We no longer had to go home black in our dirty working clothes. The pits also had their own Medical Centres just like miniture hospitals with their own Medical Attendants and a nursing Sister in charge.

What joy it was in being able to go home washed and fully dressed ready to go straight out with your mates or girlfriends.
No longer having to wait your turn for the hot water to boil for the tin bath in front of the coal fire, then having to go behind the pantry door to wash your dangling bits if the girl next door had been sat waiting to look at the male anatomy free show.

One of my most memorable days was when the names were picked out of a cap by the Union men for who would carry the pits Banner at the Durham Miners Gala held every year at Durham City on a Saturday.

We younger ones were all excited as we rushed through the showers to look at the chosen few on the list hanging on a wall next to the medical centre. On reaching there myself was to see a bunch of my mates ( Marrars ) all crowded around and climbing up on each others backs to grab a look at the lucky chosen names. Being tall I had no trouble in seeing over their heads to receive a very surprised shock on seeing my name at the top of the list and underneath is the name of my close friend Roy who was a gentle giant of a man who I'd always looked up to in more ways than one.
He also had a great singing voice which i loved to hear when he was singing down the pit as the sound echo rebounded through the workings of the mine. I thought he was waisted working at the pit with his God given talent.
It was a great honour to be chosen to parade the pit Banner high through the streets of Durham City and what a grand pair of bearers we made carrying the poles of the Banner all day; even inside Durham Cathedral.
This would be my first time in attending a Miners Gala and it nearly always rained on Gala day in July and I'm a fine weather man myself. Came the day and it was one of the proudest days of my life, only another pitman would fully understand. We marched behind a brass band, first through the colliery village, then again through the streets of Durham City.
There we marched proudly passed the Royal County Hotel where on the balcony stood VIPs, Politicians such as Clement Attlee M.P. and Secretary of State for war Manny Shinwell plus Hugh Gaitskell who would attend a number of these Gala's in the years to come. Lined on both sides of the road were crowds of people clapping and cheering along with the many brass bands playing. I'd never seen so many folk gathered at any one time in all my life and it made me feel good.
Yes I helped display our pit banner with pride, my once and only time - do you know what it never rained that day.

After serving 20 years in the coal industry I reckoned that I'd done my bit and done old Bevin well, more than he'd given in return to the Bevin Boys after the war ended for Service to King and Country as they became known as "The Forgotten Army of Conscripts".
This left a bitter taste in our mouth which is still there today 60 years later. If you are wondering about this injustice of equal rights for all; then find an ex Bevin Boy and ask him.

If I had to do my bit all over again and at the end of it to receive no recognition for sevices rendered then the Government would have to import peat from Ireland to keep the 'Home Fires Burning'.

To the readers of this story I ask that you remember that this Country of ours was built on coal and now that most of our mines have been closed we now import coal all the way from places like Columbia, Poland, Austria and who knows maybe Russia.
No wonder the old miners feel bitter as right through the ages the only rewards he ever received for doing his best was a 'Kick-in-the-teeth' and now a way of life and an industry has been killed off which will never return.

Ironic that at Newcastle there is a depo that stores all this foreign imported coal which also makes an old saying of "Taking coals to Newcastle finally to become reality".

Bevin Boys.

No Hats, No Plumes,
No Uniforms
No Badge for them to wear,
No Regiment
No choice
No recognition.

No Light, No sight,
No chance to fight,
No Medal for defence,
No Honours Roll, No bugle call,
No acknowledgement.

The cage, the hole,
The dreaded drop,
The deepest trench, Foxhole,
In seams of eighteen inches high
They dug the precious coal.

Story Written by Mr J.D. Fisher.
Newton Aycliffe.
County Durham.

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