大象传媒

In the early years of my life, like many others, we accepted life for what it was and we tried to get through all the hard times the best we could. My father Frederick was just 16 yrs old when he became the manager of the local butchers shop called 'Dewhursts' Nimrod Street off County Road Walton, Liverpool. It was understood the shop was re-named the 'Argentine Meatshop' in later years.

Dad's father, was also named Frederick, a seafarer and a very tall man and his mother spoke French. My mother Elizabeth, was from Penzance in Cornwall, told us, father was liked in and around Walton. He was not a well man and suffered from arthritis. Mother told us, "He wore leg braces and she didn't find this out until their wedding night." Father died of ill health at the young age of 33yrs, prior to my 4th birthday. by this time, I had two brothers and five sisters. The mortality rate in those days was very high, with two of my sisters both dying very young, through ill health.

My family were going through very hard times, when the first World War began. As, mother had little money to look after us, the children were temporarily fostered out to a family who lived near the Lake District, until the end of the war. Although, the family we stayed with were very nice to us,it felt as though we were in service. I remember, vividly, the lady of the house liked sandwiches in the afternoon with a thin slice of cake in the centre. That tickled my sister Iris and myself and we thought that was very posh and made us laugh.

After, World War 1 ended, we were sent back home to mother in Liverpool. Mother was so pleased to see us and she cried when she saw us. Although, we were too young to understand, our family had become a casualty of war, as mother told us,"Our uncle Harry and our second cousin had been reported lost at sea when the ship 'Lusitania' they were crew on was sank off the coast of Ireland on 7 May 1915.

As, all the children were home they had to find jobs almost immediately, to help mother and the rest of the family. We were all still so very young.
We had to move from the old shop in Nimrod Steet, to a rented terraced house in Elm Road, Walton Village. The house had two rooms upstairs and two rooms downstairs with an outside toilet. There was not much room for mother and six children.

I started a job in the Metal Box factory, with remarks from neighbours saying, "I was too young and I shouldn't be taking a mans job." I was given a trial by the factory supervisor, who was impressed with the work I could do for one so young. He gave me the job and I was trained up and qualified as a tin machinist. I earned the highest money than all my brothers and sisters at the time,so with taking my money home to mum, it was like I was the breadwinner.

The years just seemed to go by and my brothers an sisters were still living at home, thought it was their duty to bring their pay home to mum to keep the family. Mum saved as much as she could and announced one day she had paid the deposit off a caravan bungalow on a site in Chester, so we could all get away from the city on week-ends and holidays. The family did exactly that for many yesrs to come.

We had very little recreation time, as our jobs required us to work long hours, this included night shifts. When we did get a moment, I would love to go dancing at Swansons dance rooms in Walton Village. We thought we were so wonderful waltzing or shuffling around the dance floor. It was around this time I met Bill, a local carters son. Bill was the brother of my sister Iris's fiancee. I didn't think Bill was my type, as he was very quiet. Both Bill and George joined the army, when World War II began. Bill joined the Royal Engineers and George joined the Cavalry as he liked horses and he had some knowledge of horses like Bill had, with their fathers family carting business. George and my sister Iris got married when George came home on leave.

My brother Frederick, named after my father, together with our cousin Harry, joined the Royal Navy serving on the 'HMS Indefactable'. They were able to join the navy as their uncle had been on the ship 'Lusitania.' My brother Frederick was returned home from Malta with serious injuries of shrapnel to the neck. he died of his wounds towards the end of the war.

Both Bill and George were sent on overseas duty. When Bill and George came home on leave, we got married at Walton Church. I think my family talked me into it. I wore a gown style cotton dress and Bill wore his uniform at St Mary's Church, Walton Village.

As the war got more intense, our factory became a munitions factory to help the war effort. I joined the St.John's Ambulance and Auxillary Reserve as a voluntier.

At the bottom of Elm Road,a railway track ran straight across a bridge and down to the Liverpool Docklands. The track was used to transport munitions from Napiers factory and down to the docks to be sent with the troops to Europe. Some was flown out from the RAF base at Field Lane. The German's tried to bomb the train many times, but seemed to miss it each time. The bombs that were dropped in the area caused major damage to the older brick and terraced homes, with slate roofs.

On one particular night we had got a warning there may be an air-raid. I had just got the last person evacuated and was making my way to the shelter. I could see the whole area was lit up were incendiary bombs had been dropped by 'Gerry'. The next moment there was a loud piercing screaming noise, then everything went very quiet, for what seemed like ages. There was a whoosh! sound and it felt as though I had been lifted and thrown to the entrance of the air-raid shelter. I was totally winded and shocked and could not get my breath for several moments. I can count myself lucky, I was not seriously injured. I also,didn't realize, at the time, as I was in the family way.

After, the all clear sounded, it was discovered one of the homes at the top end of the road, had half of its upstairs bedroom and downstairs front room missing. This was only eight doors up from our house.

About the author: Is the son, quoting from parents letters in family memoirs.

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