大象传媒

In 1938 I was twelve years old the eldest of eight children. My father was a farm worker and we lived in a tied cottage in Barningham Winter on the edge of the park adjoining Barningham Winter hall in North Norfolk We were living an idyllic childhood playing in the park and woods, often paddling in the stream or lake. Although we had no running water, no indoor toilets, no radio, no television, no telephone and rarely saw a newspaper, we were happy.
All this was soon to end. We had overheard the rumours of war from the women who gossiped around the communal water pump. During 1938 there was talk of Neville Chamberlain the prime minister going over to Germany to have talks with Hitler to prevent the war. I remember hearing my father say, " Can't see what he can do with just a blooming umbrella." It seemed that he never went anywhere without an umbrella.

As the rumours of war rumbled on, we noticed a lot of new things going on, about four miles from our house, was Weybourne camp situated on the coast, this was an anti-aircraft Artillery range. And along with a complementary camp at Stiffkey a few miles further along the coast represented the main live firing training ranges for ACK-ACK Command in World War II. Weybourne was also considered to be an ideal invasion area due to the deep water access. (Now a WW2 museum. www.muckleburgh.co.uk) There was great activity with target practice, As soon as we heard the guns firing, we used to run outside to see the plane towing the target, aeroplanes were an unusual sight before the war. Soon after the war started, we were glad to run indoors as German fighters and bombers flew in from the coast firing their guns and dropping bombs on the many airfields which sprang up in Norfolk.

At the beginning of the war a lot of building work was going on at West Beckham about one and a half miles from our house, although an uncle worked on it, no one knew what it was for. Four wooden and four steel pylons were erected and surrounded by a high chain link fence with sentries at the gate everything else connected with these pylons was underground in concrete bunkers. The tops of the pylons had lights on to warn approaching aircraft and we would watch every night to see the lights come on. If any of the locals had problems with their cars not starting or engines cutting out they would blame it on the pylons. It was only after the war that we found out that they were part of the radar defence system.
Then work began on the fields beside our school with round the clock working with heavy plant and lighting through the night. Matlaske airfield was being built. This was to be an overflow airfield for Coltishall. It was a fighter base RAF 72 Sq. (Spitfires, Westland Whirlwinds, Lysanders, Walruses and P51 Mustangs) It is also rumoured that James Steward the famous actor once landed there. The RAF also took over the Hall, for officer's quarters and hospital. (Seems strange now that the school was never closed or moved away from the airfield.)

I was staying with an aunt and uncle the day war was declared, and my father cycled more than eleven miles to fetch me. Then he made me and my brothers and sisters go around the garden and pick up any pieces of paper or any thing light coloured that might be seen from the air. A bit over the top of course, but no one fully understood about what could happen, and the powers that be didn't know much better.
We didn't get air raid shelters free as the towns did and certainly couldn't afford to buy any.
The domestic types for four persons were selling for 拢13 10 s 00d (拢13.50p).
Gas masks were issued but were horrible to wear and I'm sure my mother would have preferred the gas to the smelly rubber from which they were made.

As all the men who were eligible to be called up to join the services, it left only the very young and old men in the village to form the home guard. So you can imagine what a motley crew they were, my father who was too old for the call up, and in a reserve occupation joined as well. If you have seen B.B.C.'s Dads Army then you have seen our home guard in its infancy. It did eventually shape up, get into uniform, changed their hoe handles for rifles and carry out vital sentry and fire watching duties.
Can never forget the night when my father was demonstrating how to use a rifle in the kitchen when it got tangled up with mothers big bloomers (knickers) and other washing hanging on the kitchen line.
Soon we were surrounded by evacuees, mother could not have any, as she was already full up with her own children, but was expected to do the washing for those staying at the hall. The evacuees used our school which meant there wasn't room for all of us, so we had to alternate morning and afternoon session's. Coming from the East End they were quite a different breed to ourselves who were quiet country kids, and their language was quite blue. However they soon drifted back to London, the quiet of the country wasn't for them, and soon we were back to all day school with the few evacuees that stayed.

After the battle of Britain, the airfield and hall was quiet, but hundreds of huts were being built in the park. It was not long before we found out what the huts were for, when our peace was shattered one evening, by a scene I will never forget. The road beside our house was filled with military vehicles and troops in all, and it took about three hours to pass through. The Americans (yanks) were here, they had been airlifted into Sculthorpe air base and travelled by road to Matlaske Airfield, where they stored the vehicles, the troops billeted in the huts on the park. They were a friendly lot, and were welcomed by the villagers and many friendships were forged. Just as suddenly as they arrived so they to depart. When they received the order to pack only a kit bag and personal possessions and to destroy the rest. Many of the soldiers disobeyed this order and anything they could not take they distributed to the villagers. Nearly every villager received some blankets or other bed linen, with the advice to cut out the USA markings.
Later word went round the village that the police were investigating who had received blankets. So you can imagine the flurry there was to remove the evidence. It is rumoured that one policeman received a pile of blankets on his head as he knocked at the back door. It caused quite a laugh in the village when it was discovered that the police were investigating a completely different matter.
When we learnt of the D day landings, we realised where our American friends had gone, I often wonder how many of them made it back home.

For a while the village was quiet then the huts in the park were filling up again this time with Italian prisoners. Even after 60 years I can still see their haunted faces staring at us through the wire. In hind sight they were probably only thinking about their own families and were more scared of what was going to happen to them then we were of them.
The authorities however did not consider them dangerous as they were allowed out of camp to work on farms. Then towards the end of the war they were more or less allowed complete freedom and came round the villages selling ornate carvings and knick knacks made from anything that they could lay their hands on. There was a story going round that on one farm, the team master went to the stables one morning to find that all the horse's manes and tails had been shorn. Then a week later an Italian prisoner going round selling sandals made from horse hair.

The early autumn was a busy time for us children earning pocket money, picking up acorns to feed the pigs getting paid 6d (2.1/2 pence) for one bushel Approx. 30kg.We also gathered rose hips for 3d per lb (1.1/4p) they were made into rose hip syrup for vitamin C. I was still picking rose hips in 1947 for some pocket money. We gathered blackberries and helped the Woman's Institute to make jam in the village hall. All this was hard work, what with the blackberries staining your hands, the brambles and thorns scratching your arms. So it was not surprising that sometimes I went to bed quite worn out, only to find that I was still picking blackberries in my sleep.

When I left school I went to work as a domestic servant for Mr and Mrs Hagen, Green farm, Hempstead, whom I felt sure were past retiring age when I joined them. But of course nobody retired during the war. It was a very busy, dairy farm with a Friesian herd and Mrs Hagen was very proud of her cows and dairy. Even there I could not escape the jam making, as Mrs Hagen was president of the, W.I.. also known as Jam and Jerusalem.
Mrs Hagen was also president of the district nursing association and on the county committee of the land army, sorting out billets, placements and their welfare. We had many land army girls come to the farm, and being city girls they found it very difficult to fit into farm life. I suppose it was a bit of a culture shock for them coming from homes where bathrooms and flush toilets were the norm, to just a wash bowl and outside privy. But some found that they loved the country life, and soon learned the tricks of the trade for example, when threshing corn it was wise to tie string around the bottom of their trouser legs, so as when they reached the bottom of the stack and all the rats and mice ran out, none would be able to get up their trouser legs.

By the time I was old enough to register for war service, the ministry of labour had decided that due to the amount of work and extra paper work that farmers had to do. Domestic servants to farmers would be classed as a reserve occupation, so I did not get out into the wide world so to speak. But as North Norfolk had many airfields and troops passing through life was not dull. Once when I was returning to Hempstead from Holt by bicycle ( the only transport available in those days) I found my way was blocked at a level crossing, by a troop train. The front of the train was in Holt station discharging troops and the rear end was a long way past the level crossing, so I thought I would be in for a long wait, but no, the soldiers on the train saw me waiting, so they lifted me and my bike into the train then lowered me out the other side.
There were many incidents of planes crashing in the area, and German planes strafing the airfields, one German bomber jettisoned a sea mine close to Hempstead Hall, leaving a crater big enough to put the hall in, luckily it did not land in the village.
I remember my father being upset when he heard that all young people that were not in the services were expected to join youth clubs, having heard about the Hitler youth movement, he had assumed they would be like that. I did join, and also joined the Baconsthorpe and district young farmers club and became treasurer and secretary. So my teenage years were not so bad, I did miss going to the beach though, even though it was within cycling distance, it was out of bounds do to the invasion threat and was heavily mined and covered in barbed wire entanglements.
Most food was rationed, but being in the country did have its advantages, as we could get the odd rabbit or pheasant and kept our own chickens and pigs. Oranges and Bananas were virtually unobtainable.
Throughout the war the cinemas were always crowded, People stood in the aisles and behind the back seats. It was not as if the films were blockbusters, everyone eagerly awaited the Pathe News to hear and see how the war was going on, these news reels were days old as they had to be transported from the actual battlefield (No instant satellite pictures as today) I can well remember the news reels after Dunkirk, with the scenes of troops returning home defeated. You could feel the atmosphere, the people's spirits sank, we all thought that we would lose the war, I am sure that only Winston Churchill's speeches that kept the people's morale up.
I was eighteen when the war ended with Germany, I was still working as a domestic, I was called into the dining room a 3.00pm to hear Churchill's victory speech. I stood there with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, no one asked me if I wanted to sit down. That was how servants were treated in those days. The next day I went with a friend and her brother who was on compassionate leave from Burma to Holt to join in with the celebrations.
The town was crowded, with everyone waving the union Jack, singing, dancing, bands were playing and the pubs were drunk dry.
Later when I read and saw pictures of the atrocities committed by Germany and Japan. I am glad that my younger brothers were still at school during the war.
I am also grateful that my own children have never had to experience war as my generation has.

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