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I grew up in a Yorkshire mining village and left school just after the start of the Second World War when I was fourteen years old to work as a shop assistant in Leeds. When I reached the age of eighteen I joined the Women’s Land Army and left my home and family for the first time on the fourth of October 1944. My father saw me off from Leeds city station on my way to Exeter, changing at Bristol. I was very apprehensive about the whole journey, never having travelled alone before. Finally I arrived and we were shepherded into some transport to take us to Whiteways cider farm at Whimple, which was to be our home for one month’s training. We lived in a hostel and received a uniform of shirts, overalls, breeches, greatcoat, hat, shoes and Wellington boots.

It was a mixed farm with a big dairy and 300 pigs. We worked in groups on a different section each week. No-one would sit next to those of us who had cleaned out and fed the pigs before breakfast, because of the smell. Before they let us loose on the dairy cows we had to train on a rubber udder, and we were taught how to record yields and to ensure that it went through several filters before it went into churns and off to the commercial dairy. One week we asked if we could go apple picking imagining it would be a pleasant job. Not so - it was back-breaking picking the apples up off the frozen ground. We worked with the older male farmhands who produced big jars of rough scrumpy cider at lunch time.

The girls were from all over the country and although we didn’t get much free time, I made friends with a Welsh girl called Maira. One night we were to a dance at a camp where a lot of Canadian servicemen were recovering from wounds.

Eventually it was time to go out to different farms and I was sent to a lonely place called Ladrum Bay right on the coast. The farmer and his wife were unfriendly and the food was pretty awful. I was unhappy there so on my day off I left and went back to Exeter. I expected to get told off, but it wasn’t so bad. It was getting near to Christmas and a farmer at Ottery St. Mary’s needed a Land Girl whilst their regular girl was on leave. They were lovely people. I slept in a feather bed and the food was great. It was a dairy farm and after milking, I used to deliver the milk by bike with a big basket on the front. I had one disastrous spillage before I got the hang of it.

I spent that Christmas at the farm. I hung up my stocking and got all sorts of bits and pieces plus a ten shilling note. When I was moved to a permanent farm I still used to cycle over and see them the farmer and his wife and I wrote to them for years after I left the Land Army.

Before I was taken to my next farm at Ottery St Mary’s I had to go to headquarters in Exeter. I was told I was only to do farmwork, no housework. It was a small farm and the Land Army authorities were concerned the owners were looking for a cheap servant because their daughter had gone to work at the Admiralty in Bath. That was not the case, but they used to call at the farm to make sure.

The farmers had built a lovely house on sixteen acres of land. They had beautiful Jersey cows, a pet lamb, a horse, chickens, ducks and cats and a lovely English Setter called Dina. The farmers had retired when they were fairly young and had then decided they would like to farm. They worked hard to develop the farm and had built most of the outside buildings themselves. They were comfortably off and used cut glass and solid silver cutlery every day. I slept in their daughter’s room all the time I was with them.

This was where I really learnt about farming. I used to milk but some of the cows were quite temperamental. They used to hold the milk if you didn’t do it right so it was a while before I could milk them all. They didn’t have a bull but used artificial insemination, which was a modern development in those days. The semen came from another herd with the same pedigree. It arrived by train in big thermos flasks so timing was crucial. The vet carried out the insemination with me as his assistant usually holding the cow’s tail. I sat up all night the first time I saw a calf being born and was thrilled by the experience.

The farmers were dedicated and treated animals well but when they were overrun with wild rabbits the gamekeeper came and put down snares to catch them. The cries were dreadful and we were up all night going out and killing them. The horse didn’t really get enough work so was rebellious when it came to putting her in the trap. She was used to being handled by the farmers’ daughter and at the first opportunity bit me on the bottom which was very painful for a while.

The main household fuel was logs and using the bow saw kept you nice and warm on winter days. The farmers never asked me to do any housework, but I did used to help as they were so kind to me. I learnt many things; skinning rabbits, killing ducks and chickens and preparing them for the table. We didn’t get much meat ration so I used to be sent to the gamekeepers for pigeons etc.

When things were quiet, we used to go out for rides on our bikes to Sidmouth. Thursday was my day off and I used to go to Exeter by bus to shop and to go to the Services Club. There we could get tea and coffee and snacks and meet our friends and, of course, other British, Canadian and American service people. I met an American whom I took to visit the farm but usually just saw them in the service club. My last bus home was at 9 pm so wild nights were not part of my social life.

The farmer always showed me how to do things like lifting sacks of feed without damaging myself. Some Land Girls were injured because old farmers expected them to do the work of a man. When I went on leave they gave me eggs, cream and rabbits to take home which were very welcome. My parents and sister came on holiday once to see where I lived. Eventually the farmers decided to buy a bigger place and asked me to go with them. However, the war was almost over and although I was undecided I went back home. It took me a long time to settle down to my old way of life and I could never get enough fresh air.

I realise I was one of the lucky ones in the war. We were unaffected by air raids, never went short of food and nobody I knew was killed. I was always glad I went away from home because it broadened my horizons and taught me new skills. I kept in touch with the family and they eventually bought a farm at Chudleigh in Devon when their daughter came home from Bath.

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