大象传媒

This story has been added to the People's War Site by a volunteer from 大象传媒 Newcastle on behalf of May Hayward. May Hayward fully understands the site's terms and conditions and the story has been added to the site with her permission.

"When war was declared on September 3rd 1939, I was a nineteen-year-old girl living at home with my parents and two older brothers. The house was a recently built (1930s) 3 bedroomed semi-detatched, in a row of similar houses. We had a garage cum workshop, a back garden and a small front garden, but no driveway to the garage, so only my brother's motorbike could get into it. We did not have a car, washing machine, telephone or fridge. My mother washed the clothes and bedding in a hot tub and used a mangle to take to excess water out. We travelled by public transport, or my brother's motorbike or walking. Contact with friends or relatives was by post. The house was situated on land bordering an old quarry, about three miles from Bolton town centre. My parents had recently sold their business - a shop and a small row of houses which were let - and my mother worked in a mill before the war. I worked for a firm making ladies and children's underwear.

At first nothing happened except all the young men in the Territorial Forces were called for active service. I became a member of the Red Cross attending lectures on first aid and demonstrations of mock air raids. After about 6 months all homes, where possible, were supplied with steel Anderson shelters. My father dug a large hole at the bottom of the garden and erected the shelter, then covered it in soil. A deeper hole was dug in one corner of the shelter to collect drainage water. It had a door, a couple of bunks and a chair. It was always damp and cold and only used when absolutely necessary and was vacated immediately the 'all clear' was sounded. I went into the shelter only once, when the bombing started over Manchester, about 12 miles away, and came to Bolton as well. In Bolton we had only a few raids and very little damage.

All homes had to have blackout curtains and the smallest light, even a lit cigarette attracted an air raid warden. At this stage, food was not rationed or scarce. The younger of my two brothers was conscripted into the RAF as ground crew. My older brother was an engineer on maintenance at a power station and so was in a reserved occupation.

In 1940 I was working for the underwear manufacturer, but was also working part time as a Red Cross nurse at Bolton Royal Infirmary. Later, in 1941, i was accepted as a probationer nurse on 3 year training. The hospital was an old victorian building with large wards . The windows of the gound floor were all bricked up and all the other windows were covered up with sicky tape to prevent flying glass. The hospital had our own ration books and i lived in the nurses home (affectionately known as the '41') and was provided with food and a uniform. For off-duty entertainment all staff were invited to the local NAAFI.

Three wards of the Bolton Royal were used for the military wounded - two wards for the British and one for the Germans. During an Air Raid warning, all walking patients went down into the cellars - all others, especially in the first floor had mattresses under the beds and it was quite an upheaval at 1.00am to transfer all patients to a safer place. I worked on the British and German occupied wards. In the beginning we had guards for the Germans - but these patients were co well cared for that no-one ever attempted to get out, so the guards soon disappeared.

At times we had to prepare the Germans for repatriation. Many patients did not want to go back to Germany. We had a lot of fun with the British - mostly they had gun shot injuries and lacerations; some had malaria.

The German ward was a mixture of army and air force, most were friend;y and grateful for their care, but a few were arrogant Nazis who played German marching music all day on their record player.

We had a lonely Russian soldier with the Germans - how he was with them we never knew. He spoke no German and no one knew any German, but we had a lady visitor who spoke Russian and often visited him.

Our occupational therapists came to the wards and the patients were encouraged to make leather goods or to basket weave - our Russian made me a pair of gloves.

We heard rumours of concentration camps, but the Germans refused to believe them - i think they knew nothing of places like Belsen.

It was a much happier ward for the British army who were free to go where they pleased.

At one of the NAAFI concerts I met an RAF fellow who invited me to his home in Elstree. During a week on leave in London, all was very quiet - it was early 1943 and there was a lull between the fire bombings and the V2s. I was amazed to see Londoners settling down for the night on platforms of underground stations. Men, women and children down every night. I saw very little of the blitz - my hospital never received any casualites from bombing raids, because there were very few injuries in Bolton. Manchester was very bad - we used to watch the sky there lit up from bombs at night.

The food in the hospital was adequate, but we probably fared better than my mother and father who were working in a munitions factory. When i was off duty (which wasn't often!) I would enjoy dancing with friends at the local plais-de-dance.

All through the war since 1941 i was studying for my state registration as a nurse, and gained this in 1845, just before VE day.

After VE day, a few of the forces were returning home and at the Palais i met a soldier home on sick leave - he had been a POW in Germany and had been wounded by American planes; his camp was moved further into Germany, so he was brought home wounded. Once better he was stationed at a REME depot in Preston.

On VJ day in September 1945, John, now my fiancee, came to a huge bonfire celebration at my hospital - just outside the hospital. No fireworks then!

I married John on June 1st 1946. I had no clothing coupons for a wedding dress, so a friendly tailor used army clothing coupons and made me a suit for my wedding. Food and clothes were rationed for a few years. It made catering for my wedding very difficult.

I did not realise how difficult it had been for food, clothing and furniture during the war as my food (poor though it was) was provided by the hospital. I know i fared better than my parents."

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