大象传媒

Introduction

The following article has been submitted to the 大象传媒 鈥淧eople鈥檚 War鈥� website on behalf of John Walton of Penrith, Cumbria. It deals with the experiences of his late father Edwin Walton, who served with Home Guard at Silloth a small town on the North-West coast of Cumberland (now Cumbria).

The article has been transcribed, with only minor editing, by Joseph Ritson who is a volunteer acting on behalf of the 大象传媒 Radio Cumbria CSV Action Desk. Both John Walton and Joseph Ritson have read and understood the terms of the 大象传媒 鈥淧eople鈥檚 War鈥� website.

Joining the Home Guard at Silloth

鈥淚n 1939, when war was declared, my father Edwin Walton and several of his mates who were all in their mid twenties went to sign up for the great adventure. Most were accepted for the Army or Navy, but some were assigned to the Air Force. Some were excused service because of being in a 鈥楻eserved Occupation鈥�. My father was also excused military service as he failed the medical due to his chronic asthma.

Those that failed to join up went on to form the Silloth Unit of the Home Guard (鈥淒ad鈥檚 Army鈥�). Their role was to watch over and protect the docks, the railway and the flour mills. At that time, these were all vital assets to the war effort.

The first shot and the first s**t

One of the many tales that my father told was about one particular night when he was on duty in the Home Guard tin hut on the veranda of Carr鈥檚 Flour Mills, overlooking Silloth Docks. He was cleaning his Enfield rifle, the only gun and the clip of six bullets the Unit had. One of the six bullets got stuck in the chamber. After a lot of banging and poking the bullet was still stuck up the barrel.

Another of the Home Guard soldiers by the name of Joe Bell was trying to sleep on the bunk after a hard 12-hour shift as a Miller on the roller floor of Carr鈥檚 Mill. After much 鈥榗ussing鈥� and swearing, Joe suggested that if you wriggled the trigger it would dislodge the jammed bullet. If my father did this, then they could all get some sleep.

Unfortunately, it didn鈥檛 happen quite like that. There was a loud bang: the gun had gone off! The bullet ricocheted around the tin hut, firstly hitting the tin roof and it then lodged in the leg of the bunk. Father had shot the bed and Joe Bell had s**t the bed! The next morning there was an enquiry as to the whereabouts of the missing spent bullet!

The second shot and the broken head

A few months went by very peacefully. Then, on a dark night with some moonlight, the Home Guard were on duty after the local pubs had shut. Some drunken foreign sailors were rolling back to their ship singing and shouting.

Joe Bell was in charge of the gun that night, again up on the veranda at the Flour Mill. He then challenged the drunken sailors. After a lot of verbal abuse, the ship lit up with all deck lights ablaze. After many heated words and things had cooled down, the masthead was still lit.

Joe then gave the order: 鈥淟ights out!鈥�. This order was rebuffed with more abusive words. So, Joe put the masthead light out with a bang! Being a crack shot with the Enfield rifle, Joe shot the light out with one bullet. Next morning, there was another enquiry into the second missing spent bullet and the broken masthead light.

Summary

There were many tales that my father told of risky 鈥榞oings on鈥� at Silloth, and how the town and its people survived the war with very little. They learned how to 鈥榤ake do and mend鈥�. This was really the only way forward. The gory things that happened were never talked about, but at the same time, they were never forgotten.

My father died three years ago when he was 88 years old. He took many tales with him. A lot of local history died with him鈥�.

John Walton
Penrith, Cumbria
10 January 2006

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