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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library in conjunction with ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Norfolk on behalf of Elizabeth Marais and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was born Elizabeth Mary Farnham on June 5th 1923 in West Norwood, London. My Father, Frank Farnham was employed by Thos. Cook and Son and in 1930 was promoted to the position of Manager of the newly opened branch in London Street, Norwich. So as a family we moved to Norwich and I went to the private School Lonsdale House in Earlham Road, later to be followed there by my younger Sister, Sheila.

The War having commenced in 1939 I left School in 1940 and my Father arranged for me to be employed as a clerk at Norwich Union. At that time there was a very strict dress code, stockings had to be worn even in the very hottest weather, female employees were not permitted to wear make up, skirts had to be a determined length and sleeves had to cover arms. I wasn't happy about this, in 1940 I rebelled and walked out. On my way home wondering how I would explain my actions to my Father, I saw a notice outside the fire station in Bethel Street, stating firewomen required. I went in and signed up. I was given a uniform and began work as a clerk in the long room above the fire engines. There had already been several air raids on Norwich by this time and more were to follow.

Soon I was moved to Fire Service HQ at Hethersett again as a clerk, but in the Stores Dept. in charge of Fire Officer Charlie Todd. Frequently I had to travel with him to Norwich and other destinations, on a couple of occasions quite unofficially he allowed me to take the wheel of the vehicle.

At this time I was still living at home with my parents on The Avenues and had been told to report to Norwich Fire Station in the event of an air aid. In 1942 the Baedeker raids started over the city of Norwich, named after the Baedeker Guide book in Germany which provided details of British historical cities, as we later learnt. Apparently Hitler thought that targeting important historical cities would be a sure way of lowering British morale. Cycling from home and down St. Giles was a hair raising experience, it seemed as if the whole of Norwich was on fire, the smoke and smell was bad enough, but the sight of terrified people trying to get their few belongings out of their shattered homes, and the sight of wounded and dead people made me glad to arrive at the fire station. There we fire women were asked to make endless spam sandwiches and fill numerous urns of tea and coffee to take to the firemen at the fire sites.

"Can any of you girls here drive?" Fire Force Commander Mr. Barrett asked when he visited the Station. "I can" I replied, with all the confidence of youth. So I was told to take one of the staff cars, take out the back seat and cram in as many sandwiches and tea urns as possible, take them to the fire sites and return for a refill. I was also instructed to take someone with me so my friend Betty came too. We jogged rather than drove from the fire station yard, there was an inevitable crashing of the gear. Betty said "I didn't know you could drive", "I can't really" I admitted "But Charlie Todd let me take the wheel a couple of times and in any case it's better than making sandwiches isn't it?"

Although Betty agreed she wasn't at all happy with my driving skills, I manoeuvred over hose pipes, broken bricks and charred lengths of wood. The centre of the City was a complete scene of devastation, the big shops like Curls, now Debenhams, and Buntings, now Marks and Spencer, had been reduced to rubble and it was difficult to negotiate our way as whole streets were no longer recognisable. All the men at the sites were very grateful for the refreshments, I lost count of the number of times we returned to replenish our supplies. On one occasion near the Hospital a firemen said to us "Will you girls look after my pump for me whilst I answer the call of nature". Giving us no time to answer he was gone, leaving us terrified that the pump might blow up, although fortunately he returned before any such disaster struck.

It was a week I shall never forget, a few hours sleep each night and we were back driving around. By the end of the week I felt a really competent driver! But I saw many heartrending sights. People looking for lost loved ones, others trying to rescue precious belongings from the remnants of their homes, but the one thing that impressed me most was the wonderful comradeship which existed as people came together to help each other. My father who had been a soldier in World War One signed up for the Red Cross as a stretcher-bearer. He was in tears as he described to me a case of rescuing an elderly man, weeping, as his whole family had been killed apart from his small dog. My Father a keen animal lover, tucked the little dog into the man's arms underneath the blanket in which he was wrapped before he was taken off to hospital, hoping that no one would separate him from the animal when he got to the hospital. My Mother was also in the Red Cross, she served refreshments at Thorpe Station.

One night on our return to the fire station for fresh supplies of refreshments we were told that one of our officers, a much respected and popular Officer, Sam Bussey was missing. He had gone to Oak Street to release some horses and the location had taken a direct hit whilst he was there. He was not found alive. On another occasion we learnt of a direct hit on the bomb shelter situated in Chapelfield Gardens and that there had been no hope of getting anyone out – presumably their remains are still there.

Early in May of that year mass funerals took place, although some of the victims were never identified. It is difficult to explain to those who were not there at that time as citizens of Norwich, the devastation the city experienced. Nor is it possible to convey the wonderful kindness, friendship and caring, people gave to each other which made those difficult times possible to bear.

Back at Hethersett HQ office work was much too dull now so I applied to be transferred to driving staff and was accepted, taking the necessary test with the Transport Officer which not only entailed driving to an agreed standard of competence, but also the ability to change a tyre within a given time and how to dismantle a car so that it would not fall into enemy hands in the event of an invasion. This meant removing the rotary arm and this we also had to do every time we went off duty (information that proved very useful later in life!), but no one had advised me of the hazards of driving on icy roads and my first and only service disaster came about on the road near Attleborough.

I was travelling alone in the vehicle which swung round several times before landing in a ditch, an episode I recall every time I pass that way. A kind Army driver contacted Fire Service HQ for me. After what seemed an age a rescue team arrived accompanied by the Transport Officer. I was hauled out; shaken and scared and I announced that I would never drive again. "You will get in that car and drive it back" I was told "If you don't you'll never drive again and one day you will thank me for telling you this" and I can honestly say I have been grateful for that advice, still on the road as I am now well into my eighties.

Life as a driver was certainly very interesting never knowing where I would be sent. In our Fire Service Area there were 4 Divisional HQs – Norwich, Ipswich, Bury St Edmunds and Cambridge and I could be sent to any one of these at a moments notice, sometimes transporting an Officer or taking a van or lorry with equipment. On one occasion I recall taking an Officer who was responsible for all the water storage areas, to Kings Lynn - somewhere I had never driven to before. Being War time of course there were no sign posts and local people would never provide any information to any one in uniform in case they were a spy. After about an hour travelling in what I believed was the right direction (my sense of direction has always been hopeless) I saw a barrage balloon and informed my passenger that I thought we were nearly at our destination. Somehow the road began to look awfully familiar even though I had never before journeyed this route; I had driven in a circle and we were re-entering Norwich! Fortunately the Officer was not too annoyed, he even laughed, turned off the speedometer before we set off again, the use of petrol was very strict being in short supply and brought to England by Merchant seamen who risked there lives to do so. The petrol smelt ghastly and was actually coloured pink, so that any theft could be easily detected.

By the end of 1942 the Americans began to arrive in Britain and by 1943 were well established in the many bases around Norfolk, they were members of the 8th Air Force Division and with their heavy bombers, Liberators and Flying Fortresses, a regular sight in the skies flying towards raiding missions in Germany. Norwich was full of American soldiers; The Samson and Hercules and The Lido Dance Halls were popular locations in Norwich for them to dance, they arrived in their large transport vehicles which were parked behind the Castle and if they did not arrive back on base in time at the end of an evening out they were in trouble. It was at these dance venues that the American boys taught us English girls to "jitterbug".

It was inevitable that as young women we soon had American boyfriends and we firewomen were frequently invited to parties on the American bases where we enjoyed all sorts of foods unavailable to us here at that time. Our NFS badges were quite a curiosity to the Americans, we kidded them that this stood for "The National Flying School" and that we flew planes between bases. Until we admitted the truth, "Gee you English dames are just amazing" was the comment. Sometimes after the dances one of the huts would be made available to us for the night, but there was always a member of their Police on duty outside, wearing his white helmet; even now when we talk to our adult children we find they doubt we are telling the truth when we say there was never anything more than a kiss and a cuddle for most of us in those days. It is difficult to convince young people of today that many of us were very ignorant about sex and the little we did know made us frightened of becoming pregnant.

Betty and I are still friends today and we remained virgins throughout the War, even though we did learn to smoke American cigarettes like Lucky Strike and Camel and other brands not previously seen at home. Fortunately it did not become a habit we retained.

Our American friends loved visiting our homes and meeting our parents who often received wonderful food parcels from the parents of these service personnel back in the States and when my father had to go into hospital for a long period in London our American friends visited him there.

It was in March 1944 that I was instructed to drive the Assistant Fire Force Commander to where two B24 Liberator bombers had collided at Henham, near Southwold. Once again due to my poor sense of direction we got lost on the way, on this occasion though I was extremely unpopular with my passenger, but, on successfully almost reaching our destination there was a tremendous explosion ahead. The scene that met us on our arrival will live in my memory forever. The bombs aboard the aircraft had exploded, killing not only the airmen, but all the Civil Defence workers who had arrived at the scene. As we stepped from the car there was a total, eerie silence, there were bodies everywhere ripped to pieces. Above our car from one of the trees left standing, a human leg was suspended. I was immediately sick and most anxious to escape from the dreadful sights. "Pull yourself together" I was told "Remember there's a war on and don't think you can apply for sick leave because it won't be granted". I often think of this when so many people today are away from work and complain of stress. We were only teenagers when so many of us experienced stress way beyond today's comprehension.
Fortunately my name is not amongst them thanks to my poor sense of direction for today there is a Memorial to all those who died in that disaster on that fateful day on March 29th 1944. Sometimes even now I remind my Daughters that they only exist because I got lost and ultimately my future career with individuals with learning disabilities only came about because I lost my way.

So it was that on June 5th 1944 I celebrated my 21st Birthday with a party which was organised by my Mother and with some of the goodies sent from America. I was extremely upset when my party was disrupted by a call to return to duty, we were stationed at a house on Ipswich Road in Norwich, no reason was given. The next day we knew why we had been recalled, it was the start of the Normandy landings.

In 1945 I was transferred from the Fire Service to Hertfordshire where I was employed to drive Land Army girls to the various farms where they were employed. The girls I transported were all from the North of England, sometimes I had difficulty understanding their dialect, but certainly learnt some swear words which I had never come across before!

At the end of the War I went to work in London and eventually I went to live in Nottingham where I trained as a teacher of children who were then labelled "mentally handicapped", but are now entitled children with learning difficulties. I spent 30 very happy years in this career and was involved in starting the first Gateway Club in Norwich for those with learning difficulties known as The Wednesday Club. In 1980 I received the MBE from the Queen at Buckingham Palace.

Now I am Secretary of The Heartsease Gateway Club and hoping that my age and present disability will never force me to give up the contact I have with those with learning disabilities and with whom I love to share my time.

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