´óÏó´«Ã½

My name is Dorothy Mayne. I was living in Bicester, on the outskirts of Oxford when the war broke out. I was newly married and had just given birth to a boy. The war started suddenly; my husband and I had not been expecting it. My husband was then currently working for the Shell Company, drilling oil from the Sea.

The war gave him the chance to continue in his offshore job since this was useful because more fuel would be given to power army transport. My husband therefore carried on working but was away from home much more often. He was a member of a merchant service ship named the Aradona. The fuel they siphoned was usually given to the Allied air force.

When my husband was gone, I left to assist a friend of mine who also lived in Bicester. She was providing petrol from her home garage to the Heyford air base - a few yards from Bicester. The petrol came from my husband’s company.

The war did not have a huge effect on Bicester town because the air-force base bore the brunt of this bombing. The German planes were often accurate bombers and only targeted strategic targets.

I often used to cycle to the shop and post letters. My spirit also stayed up from conversation and I was able to keep in good communication with my husband, this was since my relative worked for as a Journalist. He kept me in tandem with relevant war news about my husband - such as where my Husband’s ship was based or if that region was been bombed. Rationing was also okay; it was just like going on diet.

Later I decided to move to my parents’ farm where I felt my help would be needed more. The farm was also close to Bicester. During that period my parents were receiving some evacuee children from heavily bombed cities especially London. I also felt that my baby would be safer in the farm, which was remote and again not thought to be useful in deciding the war. Our job was mainly to feed the livestock.

The farm had actually stayed within the family - because my father who was a war recruit in the First World War had not being able to get on well with his commanding officer! My father left on mutual terms and decided to take over the farm from my grandfather, his father.

After spending some time at the farm my son and myself decided to move to the Twickenham area in London. I stayed with the wife of my husband’s cousin, who was alone at that period. We faced the same situation; our husbands had gone out to war. I had already been travelling to see her while at the farm. There was also the frequent air bombing in Twickenham, more than in the farm, or Bicester. While I was in Twickenham, I sometimes liked to watch the ‘dog fights’ - the British planes fighting against the German planes.

Everyone was really kind, helping each other. The neighbours helped us to build an Anderson’s shelter while others gave gifts. I also remember a queer experience in Kensington high streets, where you could see the workers and the full operations of bank from a mile off because the front of a bank’s building had blown up. This stark picturesque of the bank summed the war up; the war was disastrous yet the community was close.

During the war period my husband also wrote some beautiful poetry to me. He tried to paint his experiences. He wedded the elements of nature to what was happening to him. I suppose people were more imaginative during the war since they could die at any time

The war finally ended, and everything was more appreciated. The wartime was nearly a better place.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.