大象传媒

This story was written by my father, Tom Tommins:

I was born in Heaton Mersey, Stockport, in 1920. In 1937 I started work at Fairey Aviation in Stockport, where I worked on various projects and machines, manufacturing parts for the Fairey Fulmar, Fairey Battle and Fairey Swordfish. When war broke out in 1939 I was designated a fire warden during air raids, and when the sirens went, my position was on the factory roof in case any incendiary bombs were dropped. But the bulk of these fell onto the McVitie and Price biscuit factory next door!

Several of my Heaton Mersey pals were called up into the forces when conscription came into operation, but there was no chance of me being called up as I was classified as being in a reserved occupation. After a while, though, I began to feel restless and felt I was not contributing enough by working in a factory, so I volunteered for RAF crew. I eventually received notification from the RAF to proceed to Padgate near Warrington to sit the necessary exams.

It had been stressed to us at the factory that, in the event of anyone receiving military service papers, we were to hand them over to the management, who would have them cancelled. I was determined not to do this, so on the pretext of being ill I cried off work and proceeded to Padgate for the exams, which were to last three days.

I was billeted with the other applicants, and on the first day we had a medical and sat our first exam, which was general knowledge. I felt I had done pretty well, until I was summoned to the COs office the following day. I was given a dressing down, as it had come to their notice that I was employed at Fairey's, and was therefore not eligible to join the forces. I was promptly sent packing, and when I got back to Fairey's I was given another rollicking by the factory employment manager, who was a very blunt Scotsman.

So it was back to the old grind at the factory, but I could not help feeling that there was something going on which was far more exciting than factory work. However, I resigned myself to this humdrum life until one day, several months later, I received a communication from an army major to attend the Pendlebury Orphanage building on Lancashire Hill, which had been taken over by the army.

I duly reported to the said major, and thereupon received another dressing down from him. It had come to his notice that I had volunteered for the RAF, and he told me in no uncertain terms that I was in a reserved occupation, and in the event of these restrictions being lifted I would be drafted into the Royal Ordnance Corps of the army, where I could carry on my trade of electrical fitter/machinist. As I had no inclination to become a square-basher in the army I decided upon another course of action.

The Royal Navy recruiting office was in Dover Street, Manchester, next to the Royal Infirmary, and I duly presented myself there as a volunteer. I knew if I told them of my occupation they would not accept me, so I lied and told them I was a labourer. I had a medical and was duly informed that I would be accepted in due course, and that I was to await my calling-up papers.

After about three weeks the papers arrived, informing me that I was to report to HMS Raleigh at Torpoint, Cornwall, in May 1941. I was determined to follow this through as I fancied the Royal Navy and the lack of foot slogging, so I did not hand my papers over to the management. All my friends at the factory knew, and promised not to say anything to the management.

The week before I was due to leave happened to be one of our regular weekend outings to Blackpool, so I was determined to have a grand time. On the coach I was given an envelope, and when I opened it I saw that it contained £4, which was a lot of money in those days. This was the result of a collection which my friends had organised as a going-away present, and I was deeply moved. Needless to say, I was so determined to have a good time that I spent most of it treating them to various amusements and drinks.

When the time came to leave, I informed the management at the last minute. I was immediately summoned before the employment manager, who told me I could not leave, and asked for my calling-up papers. I informed him that I had already posted them back to the Navy Office, whereupon he said that he would have them cancelled.

I then played my only trump card by informing him that my workmates had made a large collection for me, which I had spent on them during our Blackpool outing, and that if he insisted on keeping me I would expect him to reimburse the full amount so that I could repay my friends. At this he almost burst a blood vessel, and told me in his own inimitable Scottish way that he was glad to see the back of me.

And that is how I came to join the Royal Navy, for which I have no regrets.

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