大象传媒

Girls began to be recruited into the Army, Royal Air Force and Navy with the outbreak of the Second World War on 3rd September 1939 or they were drafted into munitions factories or the newly formed Women鈥檚 Land Army to work on farms as replacements for the men who were called up. At that time I was eighteen years old and employed as Secretary to Mr. Derbyshire, the General Manager of A.H. Bull, a large department store in Broad Street, Reading I was a very shy person in those days and the thought of leaving home and joining one of the services seemed a rather daunting prospect. On the other hand I wasn鈥檛 attracted to the idea of being confined in a munitions factory.

I shared my thoughts with Margaret Elias who worked in the same office as me, although she was slightly older. After endless discussions we eventually decided that we would help to maintain the nation鈥檚 food supplies by volunteering for service in the Women鈥檚 Land Army, where we might enjoy the benefits of a healthy outdoor life. Together we strode off determinedly to the recruiting office at 7, Abbott鈥檚 Walk near the centre of Reading where our offer of service for King and Country was readily accepted after a short interview and a medical examination. On 12th January 1942 I was issued with the number 61004 and became a member of the Women鈥檚 Land Army.

I received a warm welcome from Mrs. Maud Parker when I made the short journey to King鈥檚 Road to be issued with my uniform. She was well known to my family and did her best to make sure I was fitted-up with well-fitting items.

The issue consisted off:

2 green jerseys
2 pairs of breeches
2 overall coats
2 pairs of dungarees
6 pairs of thick stockings
3 shirts
1 pair of stout shoes
1 pair of gumboots
Green Women鈥檚 Land Army armlet
Women鈥檚 Land Army metal badge

I should also have received an overcoat, but they were in short supply so I had to wait six months until the middle of the summer before mine arrived. Meanwhile, I bought myself a riding jacket to ward off the cold of a very severe winter. Before we left the office, Mrs. Parker made sure that we understood that items of uniform had to be looked after with great care and could only be replaced after six months and only then if they were worn out.

Margaret and I were presented with a beautiful wintry scene as we arrived for our first job at Whiteknights Park in Shinfield Road, Reading (now the campus of Reading University). Snow covered the cedar tress and carpeted the ground to a depth of six inches. We were soon greeted by Mr. Hart, the Head Gardener, who would be teaching us the basic elements of market gardening.

The Whiteknights鈥� estate belonged to Mr. Rayner and the wonderful grounds and gardens had been turned over to market gardening for the duration of the war. We really enjoyed our work for Mr. Hart proved to be extremely knowledgeable and an excellent tutor. I arrived at the Park at 8 o鈥檆lock each morning on the bus and worked until 5pm; a forty-eight hour week for which I was paid the princely sum of 40 shillings (the equivalent of 鈧�2 pounds in today鈥檚 money). Sadly, after just three months at Whiteknights, Mr. Rayner died and we were disappointed to learn that the house and gardens were to be sold.

Margaret and I transferred to Caversham, on the other side of Reading, where we were given two gardens to look after; one attached to the Chiltern Nursing Home in Peppard Road, and the second at a private house in Derby Road, belonging to Mr. Brain, a partner in a prominent firm of local solicitors. Despite Mr. Hart鈥檚 best efforts at Whiteknights鈥� Park, we had absolutely no idea how to cultivate vegetables in these gardens. There was no one to help or advise us and looking after private gardens wasn鈥檛 our idea of contributing to the nation鈥檚 war effort!

My confidence had grown enormously in the short time I had served as a 鈥楲and Girl鈥� and I resolved to ask for a transfer so that I could do some real work. To my surprise I received a sympathetic hearing when I took my concerns to the officials at Abbot鈥檚 Walk. I expressed my willingness to take on farm work, as long as it did not involve poultry, since I have a fear and dread of chickens.

On 26th May I received a letter telling me that I would be posted to a Women鈥檚 Land Army Hostel at Bracknell run by the War Agricultural Executive Committee, where I would join about thirty other girls to perform general farm work, such as potato picking, hoeing, muck spreading, haymaking, harvesting, silage making and threshing. My wages would remain at 40 shillings a week, except that I would now have to pay a weekly charge of 20 shillings for food and accommodation. Making the change was a big step and leaving home for the first time proved to be a huge wrench.

I set off on my newly acquired bicycle on Sunday 31st May to find the Land Army hostel, which had been described to me as a long, drab, muddy-grey building, located about 5 miles north of Bracknell; a journey of some 10 miles from Reading.

Despite the depressing appearance of the building I soon felt at home in its friendly atmosphere. Sheila Kirrage greeted me clutching a huge cat known as Ooshy and I soon Olive met Olive Bull with whom I shared a bunk. The hostel was run by Mrs. Coralie Brown, the Warden,. She was assisted by Kate, the Deputy Warden who also acted as cook, and the domestic helpers, Betty and Nancy. The accommodation was quite primitive. The floors in the sleeping quarters and common room were made from concrete and a single stove in the middle of the dormitory provided the only heating. Each side of the room was taken up with rows of bunks and there was a wardrobe for our clothes. Unfortunately, the food was barely adequate. We were given sandwiches to take out to work each day which were usually filled with either beetroot or cheese, and on rare occasions, spam. These were stored in a metal box supplied by the hostel and were expected to sustain us until the evening meal at 6.30. It was anticipated that the farmers would provide us with a drink at lunchtime, but this wasn鈥檛 always the case.

My very first job was just up the road from the hostel at the works of Imperial Chemical Industries. Two other girls and I were sent to learn how to make silage 鈥� this was my introduction to how exhausting farm work could be! First, the grass was collected and put into a large silo where it was sprayed with molasses. Then it became our job to tramp round and round on each layer. By the end of the day our legs were aching terribly and we couldn鈥檛 wait to relax in a hot bath.

Having survived this task and proved that I could manage the work, I was sent to work on a farm at Bearwood, near Winnersh. The farmer, Mr. Balsdon, would arrive at the hostel early each morning and collect Joyce, Marie and myself. The work varied according to the season, but I enjoyed haymaking the most. Our first task here was hay baling. This involved picking up the hay with a pitchfork and putting in the baler. The bales seemed to get heavier and heavier as each day progressed. Never had my back and every bone in my body ached so much. I found a bed so hard to lie on at night.

Mr. Balsdon turned was an unsympathetic character and something of a slave-driver. One morning he was driving so badly as we approached Cabbage Hill at Binfield that the vehicle left the road and ended up in a ditch. Fortunately no one was hurt, although we were all badly shaken. Mr. Balsdon didn鈥檛 seem to care and expected us to carry on with work as normal. Later on he tried to persuade me to work for him permanently. Needless to say, I declined his offer!

I felt a sense of trepidation one day when I was called into the W.A.E.C. office near the Abbey Gateway in Reading. I still thought of myself as a shy person in those days, so I was shocked when I was told that I was to be appointed Forewoman at Jealott鈥檚 Hill. I was delighted to learn that my pay would increase by 8 shillings a week, although on reflection it wasn鈥檛 a great deal for the responsibility I was about to take on. The job entailed being responsible for everything connected with the girls鈥� work. Each evening I had to liaise by telephone with the Assistant Labour Officer in Reading and allocate the appropriate number of girls to each job he gave me. Then I had to ensure that everyone got up in the morning and got away promptly from the hostel. I had to check that daily timesheets were correctly filled in, signed by the respective farmers and sent to the office in Reading each week so that the girls would receive their pay. The one great perk with the job was that I would be taught to drive so that I could deliver the girls to work each morning.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that I would ever drive a vehicle and the prospect was really exciting, if a little daunting. In due course I was dispatched to 鈥楾he Grotto鈥�, a W.L.A. hostel in Streatley-on-Thames. This would be my base while I received two weeks driving instruction.

My instructor, Bob Critchfield, drove to Streatley each day from Didcot in an old Wolseley car and set about teaching me the basics of driving. It wasn鈥檛 necessary to pass a test in those days, so as soon as Bob thought I was ready, he could launch me on a career as a solo driver. The moment arrived sooner than I expected. We were driving towards Pangbourne when he turned to me and said, 鈥楾he car is your responsibility now. You can drive it back to Bracknell.鈥� I was a qualified driver!

Driving to Bracknell by myself was an awesome prospect, but the traffic was much lighter in those days. I took the challenge in my stride and arrived successfully 鈥� and safely 鈥� at the Jealott鈥檚 Hill hostel.
I now made up a team of three drivers at the hostel and between us we transported the girls to and from work each day. It was not always easy to locate farms as the road signs had been removed for the duration of the war, but with the aid of a map and given directions we always managed to arrive. My old Wolseley had been adapted to accommodate more passengers with the replacement of the back seats with two benches. It wasn鈥檛 very comfortable or stylish but it did the job, notwithstanding the number of times it broke down in remote country lanes. I soon became quite proficient at changing tyres and other emergency repairs, although if major work needed to be done we had to get the vehicles to garages at either Didcot or Winnersh. These were manned by conscientious objectors, who were always most helpful. I don鈥檛 recall many of the men by name except Mr.Denton and Jack Franklin whose brother and sister-in-law ran a well known greengrocer鈥檚 shop at Christchurch Green in Reading until 2002.

For the most part I drove the Wolsley for work, but over the next few years I drove all manner of other vehicles, including an American staff car and a fire-tender! Normally I took charge of the last gang to be dropped off at a farm so that in the evening I could work in reverse to collect them all. Our journeys were never without incident, one such being on the way to a farm near Twyford. We came to Land End where there is a ford across the River Loddon. I took a look at the water and thought 鈥榶es鈥� I can drive the car safely across. Alas, the car got stuck in the middle of the ford 鈥攖he engine stalled and water had apparently got into the exhaust. There was nothing for it but to push the car out. The girls got out and minus shoes and socks they pushed with all their might. I had to go to a nearby house and phone for assistance from the garage to get us mobile again. How useful a mobile phone would have been on such an occasion as this!

I readily took up my new duties as Forewoman at Jealott鈥檚 Hill. The work was varied. Pulling and cutting mangolds or sugar beet on a cold winter鈥檚 morning was perhaps one of the worst tasks. Fingers and toes ached with cold as we chopped the mangolds and flung them into a nearby cart. We naturally became hungry using so much energy and usually devoured our sandwiches long before lunch time. Once our midday break arrived, we piled into the car and I drove everyone to the nearest caf茅 for a round of beans on toast and a mug of Horlicks - the 鈥楾erminus Caf茅鈥� at the 鈥楾hree Tuns鈥� crossroads on the Wokingham Road (sadly long demolished) and the 鈥楽quare Deal Caf茅鈥� at Knowl Hill (still going strong at the time of writing in 2005) 鈥� come to mind as being especially good lunchtime retreats. Suitably fortified, we felt able to tackle the efforts of the afternoon. Haymaking and harvesting in the late summer were much more enjoyable tasks as we could enjoy the long sunny days in the fields.

Most of the farmers were very pleasant to work for, but sadly not all. One day, Olive, Marie, Gladys and myself were sent to a farm owned by Mr. Bowden at White Waltham near Maidenhead. We were potato sorting, which meant putting potatoes through a riddle and removing all the bad ones. After a hard morning鈥檚 work we were looking forward to a cup of tea at lunchtime, which was usually gladly provided by the farmer. As the time passed by, we realized that this miserable and ungrateful man couldn鈥檛 be troubled to make us a drink. Seeing our plight, the wife of one of the farm labourers invited us into the spare room of her little cottage. A mug of steaming tea has never been as welcome and thoroughly appreciated as it was on that occasion. What鈥檚 more, the lady insisted that we sit down and share a delicious steamed pudding she had cooked that morning. She looked after us in this way for all the time we worked at the farm. We were so grateful for her kindness that we presented her with a lace cloth for her table as a present when we left to move on to another farm.

The working week finished at 1 o鈥檆lock on Saturday and we were then free until Sunday evening unless it was haymaking or harvest season, when we were required to work overtime. Fortunately, I could easily get home for the weekends. Often I would take Olive with me as it was not easy for her to get to London. We thought nothing of walking the distance of five miles to the station at Bracknell, catching the train to Reading, and then making the same journey back on Sunday. It was just a relief to escape from the hostel for a few hours, relax at home and renew contact with our families.

Entertainment was limited at the hostel. A visit to the cinema involved a long walk to Bracknell so for the most part we listened to gramophone records played on an old H.M.V wind-up. gramophone. I remember 鈥業n The Mood鈥� as being quite a favourite. Sometimes I would either walk or cycle to Park Lane in Bracknell to visit the parents of a friend, Harold Hutson, who was serving in the Far East with the Army, where he later suffered internment as a prisoner of war under the Japanese.

Although we were in the midst of a war and a blackout was strictly enforced, I felt perfectly safe walking or cycling along the dark country lanes where there were no lights and very few houses 鈥� something one would never dream of doing today. I remember visiting the cinema in Reading one evening with three friends and hitching a lift to Bracknell on the back of a lorry laden with giant bales of paper destined for a paper mill 鈥� what a ride 鈥� what a hairy experience!

This story will be continued in Part II of 鈥淎 Berkshire Land Girl鈥�.

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