大象传媒

MARY BARNES

WAR TIME ON A SUFFOLK FARM

It was a glorious day, Sunday, September the 3rd 1939. My father and mother and we children were visiting my grandparents who farmed in the next village but one.

The conversation turned to recent events in Europe and the outbreak of war; and comparing what might be in store with what happened in 1914-1918.

I was upset; at eight years old it was all beyond my comprehension, so I walked down the garden in the sunshine and watched the bees at work, going in and out of the hives.

To this day, the smell of honey on a warm day reminds me of that time. We had little knowledge of what was to come, or of the country鈥檚 narrow escape
from invasion.

Commitees for this and that were hastily formed, among them the War Agricultural Committee (War AG. for short) which was based at Melton, aiming to bring back into production land which had been neglected since the thirties slump. It was a mammoth task. Men were being called up (unvolunteered) for the forces, depleting the workers on the farms.

To replace them the Womens'Land Army was formed ; a few raised eyebrows from the older farming fraternity! But nevertheless, as time went on, they proved themselves to be very effective.

We children were expected to help; There were eggs to collect and wash, chickens and calves to feed, fruit and vegetables to pick. Haytime and harvest time were hectic and demanding; meals were taken to the fields; it was very enjoyable, despite the situation.

The bombing of London by then was at it鈥檚 height, and the battle of Britain and more than once we had to leave a meal and dive into the nearest ditch, watching the dog fight overhead, as the bombers were intercepted by fighters from nearby airfields.

The danger was, that if the bombers still had a load it would be jettisoned, usually across farmland to enable the attackers to escape more easily.

After harvest, we returned to school, and farm work was carried on; John was a part-time postman who did anything he could lay his one hand on ; he loved horses. Arthur, cowman and calf rearer- had quite a vocabulary. My father did the tractor work, ploughing, harrowing etc., and was in the home guard doing night patrols and watches. My mother (and us) looked after the chickens and fed the pigs.

The fiasco of the retreat from Dunkirk, the legend of the little ships, and anything that could float has been thoroughly documented; but still the marvel of the numbers of men who escaped, and the sheer heroism of the men who manned the little ships and the tenacity of the men who waited, shoulder deep in water, waiting to be taken on board is shattering, after all this time.

Young men returned to the village for leave- we had no conception of what they had endured.

The war went on In the Far East as well as Europe. At home, we coped with shortages of clothes, rubber boots and leather. At school, we had markets for outgrown uniforms, shoes and anything that could be sold for the War Effort.

The tide finally turned; after D-day landings in France and later ones in Italy. Gradually the Allies liberated France and the Low Countries, and the Italian government capitulated.

Hundreds of prisoners were captured, or gave themselves up; many were brought to Britain for work on farms for food production. As the Americans moved into Europe, they vacated the smaller airfields, and these were used to house prisoners of war. First to come were the Italians, they were conscripted to work on farms in the area- if willing- to ease the burden of busy times; harvest time and sugarbeet lifting.

It did not work out! That summer was hot and dry and the harvest should have been an easy one, except for the Italians; very reluctant to work. It was too hot, too cold, or too dry. One man had excellent English, but memory lapses when asked to work full time. Egg production by the hens plummeted and the hens disappeared. it was back to the War Ag.

This time it was German prisoners

At that time all the POWs wore uniform with round patches on the back of their jackets (it was thought it would be difficult for a prisoner to escape).

The POWs were brought to the farm by truck, dropped at each farm, and were picked up at the end of the day.

They were accompanied by their own officers; (the officer in charge of our group wore a long field grey overcoat and a grey Afrika Korps cap (and spoke very correct Oxford English). The prisoners brought their own food and each man had a flat tin containing dried milk and tealeaves. My mother boiled a kettle of water for them to make the tea when needed.

As time went on, it was mooted by the powers that were(and probably to save fuel) that if employers were willing and had suitable accommodation available, the prisoners would be allowed to live on site.
We had a room over the kitchen with its own staircase (used by the live-in maid in former times presumably) and Alfred moved in.

The war this time had reached Germany: the Americans, British and Russians were racing for Berlin.

Alfred had been trying to contact his mother, who lived in Stettin, in the Russian zone. His letters were always returned. Fortunately, two more POWs were working at a nearby farm and they were allowed to visit and be visited much more freely- by then, we had almost forgotten that he was an enemy, and, I think vice-versa.

In the evenings, after work and homework, we played chess, drafts, snakes and ladders and cards (and cheated!) and became bi-lingual.

The prisoners' uniform now had become less conspicuous, no patches consisting of a bomber jacket, sweater and collarless shirts.

My mother remarked that she did not like to see collarless shirts and that Christmas Alfred received a tie, two button stiff collars and a large bar of chocolate-I don't know how she got hold of it ; things were still rationed.

By this time I was revising for mock school cert; school and homework took most of my spare time.

Alfred , meantime, had been trying through various sources to contact his family but with little success, Europe was still divided, with the Russian zone shut tight. The war was virtually at an end.

He met a girlfriend who he later married after his release. We heard that he was living in Ipswich and was working there.

It is now over half a century age; on putting these few anecdotes on paper, it still seems to have been an incredible time to have lived through.

UNRELATED NOTES MARY BARNES

1943: Cycling to Debenham one Saturday with a friend, to pick up a horse's bridle which was being repaired. On the way back, nearly to Framsden a ;plane was flying very low and machine gunning along the road. We jumped into a very deep ditch getting very wet feet. It was over in two seconds we told no-one!

After a raid in the Ipswich area, early evening, my father had been shooting rabbits, and walking across the yard to the house when a Dornier ( I think) flying very low came over at treetop height. My father let fly with both barrels- the 鈥榩lane later crashed in Debach. He swore blind he shot it down!!! He omitted to say that there were two fighters on the bomber鈥檚 tail!

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Sheila Haskins of Woodbridge Library on behalf of Mary Barnes and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions

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