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This story was submitted to the People's War site by a volunteer from csvberkshire on behalf of Geoffrey Webb and has been added to the site with his permission. Geoff fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

A Hampshire Farmer Remembers

I was 10 years old at the start of the war and lived at Week Green Farm, Froxfield in Hampshire, with my parents and older brother Kenneth. We had 200 acres, we grew cereals and had a dairy herd. I went to Froxfield village school and at weekends helped with milking. My father was one of the first in the area to get a Fordson tractor which I soon learnt to drive and so was able to help out at harvest time by picking up sheaves of corn to stack.

When the Home Guard was formed at the beginning of the war I remember Father being issued with a rifle and an arm band which said LDV - Local Defence Volunteer. The farm house was rather large and one day a lorry arrived with soldiers who started to unload boxes and rifles which were stored in the big cellar under the house. I remember going into the cellar with my brother when Father wasn’t around to look at the rifles, ammunition and something I had never seen before - hand grenades. Ken told me they were used by throwing them at the enemy. He said that when the pin was taken out and the lever released the bomb would explode in a few seconds. He told me that provided the lever stayed in position it was safe, so I couldn’t resist taking out the pin to see if he was right - I quickly replaced it!

Local volunteers came from time to time to collect the arms which Father distributed. They practised in the chalk pit on the farm but never had to use them in action. I remember hand grenades being thrown and exploding. The chalk pit was the place where Father said that if the Germans ever came we should go there to hide.

I enjoyed Sundays because Mother kept chickens and we always had roast chicken and apple pie for lunch. Two evacuees came to stay with us from London, Mrs Baker and her daughter Dot. Dot was in her twenties and Mrs Baker was very worried about her going into Petersfield and meeting the French Canadian soldiers who were stationed nearby. As far I recall she came to no harm!

In 1941 Father sold the farm and we moved to Worcestershire. He joined the Ministry of Agriculture and was responsible for the allocation of steel to agricultural machinery manufacturers which meant him travelling long distances visiting various firms. After suffering a heart attack he found it a strain to drive too far and during the school holidays I would accompany him and often drove his Morris 10. One day we had to go to Birmingham after a night of blitzing from the German bombers and I remember driving through devastated areas only to find that the factory we had to visit had been demolished. Another time when I was driving along I saw a police car in the rear mirror. As I was only thirteen or fourteen I told Father who said just to keep going - luckily the police car turned left.

One day we visited a site where there had been a huge underground ammunition store in the hillside. It had mysteriously exploded leaving a crater approximately a mile wide. A farmer going to market and several locals had been killed. I walked all round the perimeter and found it hard to believe this crater was where there had once been a hill.

To finish on a lighter note; Father told me that the villagers had complained to the authorities because all the ladies’ knickers were disappearing from their washing lines - it was discovered that the Italian prisoners of war were the culprits!

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