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Shortly before war was declared we were issued with gas masks. We were living in Luton at that time and ‘Anderson Shelters’ were delivered to each house to be buried in the garden, to a certain depth. Ours was fitted out with blankets and pillows etc, but it was always very cold in there
My sister Jessie was always the one to dash into the house to make tea if the noise outside quietened. The sirens sounded at any time, day or night, and then everyone made a dash for a shelter, including passers by who used the shelters built in the street, which also had big smoke screens at intervals along the road. This was to deter the bombers away from the Vauxhall works nearby. Buzz bombs were the worst. Fine if you could hear the engine, but when that stopped they just dropped to the ground — nasty.

‘Bush telegraph’ amongst the neighbours was brilliant. We got messages like — ‘sausages at the butchers’, ‘eggs at the greengrocers’. One egg each, but you had to buy something else to get one. On very rare occasions, bananas, but pregnant ladies got priority, providing they showed their green ration books.
The family went off to see what we could each get. I can never remember being hungry, but we did get fed up with ‘spam’ and re-constituted eggs, and whale meat, which was revolting. I can still see this on the fishmonger’s slab. Rationing was very strict, but nobody starved. We hoarded tins of food, when we could. Sugar and tea were priority, also soap. For weddings and wakes, neighbours made donations from their stores to help.

I was allowed a comic a week called ‘School Friend’, but when paper was short I had to share with another girl by returning it to the newsagent after I had read it, and he would sell it again!

School days were split into morning and afternoon sessions, to accommodate the extra children who were evacuees from London. Eventually Mum decided that as we were spending so much time in the Anderson shelter, that we should return to Worcester.
Dad was upset because all the iron railings and gates had to be collected up and melted down to make ammunition for the war effort. Straight away Dad lifted our front gate off its hinges, and hid it in the back garden, where it remained until after his death in 1974!

The last of my school days were spent at Christopher Whitehead School. All pupils left school at the age of fourteen, unless they had gained a scholarship. I got my first job as a cashier at the International Stores, on the corner of The Cross, in Worcester. I stuck it out for a few weeks, and I eventually plucked up the courage to give the obligatory ‘weeks notice’ and off I went to ‘Woolworths’ which was much more exciting, and lots of lads to flirt with! I quite enjoyed it there. One delivery at the store was a roll of Hessian for embroidery, and as it wasn’t on ‘coupons’ I decided to make a pleated skirt to wear when I went to the dances with my friend to Norton Barracks. We were both very good at the’jitterbug’. Unfortunately, because the Hessian was very rough, by the time we rode our bikes home, our skins were rubbed raw.
Ballroom dancing was very popular and there was no shortage of partners. Our favourite place was Norton Barracks.

I won a singing contest at one of the dances on the Kings School playing field where they had a huge marquee with a raised dance floor, with my rendering of The Anniversary Waltz!

I went to work after Woolworths to the Eltex factory in Watery Lane where they made aeroplane flaps. Wages were good, £4 a week. Mum had the wage packet and she gave me half a crown back for pocket money!
The flaps were made for ‘spitfires. Unfortunately, I wasn’t very good with the drill and kept breaking it. Thanks to Bill who took me under his wing I became quite an expert. The only time we stopped work was when the canteen ladies came round with the tea urn, packets of biscuits, sticky buns and on the bottom of the trolley (next to all the dust on the floors) thick pieces of bread and dripping with jelly on the top. One penny a piece and really delicious.

After enough flaps were made it was back to the labour exchange to find another job. You worked where you were sent and I was sent to the Porcelain factory, which I thought was great. After a while I didn’t think it was so great. The dust was every where. I lied to the nurse and said I had suffered from TB and the dust was affecting my chest. So it was back to the labour exchange.

I was then sent to the Royal Infirmary and I imagined tending the sick, but no, I was cleaning staircases. No rubber gloves in those days and by the end of the day my hands were raw and painful caused by the caustic soda we had to use. I put grease or anything I could find on my skin to help. I was eventually moved to the Doctors’ residence. It was a lovely house, and I was maid to six doctors who lived there.

As the war progressed wounded soldiers started to arrive and D Day brought an enormous surge of patients. The long corridors were filled with beds. The yard outside held piles of their uniforms and emergency rations — biscuits, marmite, tea sugar, sterilising water tablets, very little else. All waiting to be collected and destroyed.

I was transferred across to the main building and was based mainly in the X-Ray department. This started a wonderful period in my life. The walking wounded were allowed out in the afternoons providing they had an escort with them, so that’s what I did. I used to take groups of four or five service men out and about in Worcester, and we were recognised wherever we went because of their bright blue, uniforms, white shirts and red ties. I met son many wonderful people. There were many invites to tea and to the milk bars and cafes, where they never charged for anything we ate or drank.

Due to being with these chaps who were so nice and most of the time very cheerful, I decided to join the forces, but when I told my Mum she hit the roof, but I decided I was going to join the WRENS because the uniform included black silk stockings.
I passed the written test in Worcester and had to go for the medical to Birmingham. Everything was fine until it came to the eye test and I couldn’t see some of the numbers — a sight specialist told me I was in dire need of spectacles! However I passed the medical and then I went on for the security check. I was accepted to train as a WREN. I wanted to be in the signals, but the only vacancies were domestic. Needless to say I didn’t accept and it was then back to the hospital to work. It wasn’t the same though after the servicemen had left so I moved on again.

I now began training as a telephonist at the Telephone Exchange on the top of the General Post Office building which was on the corner of Foregate Street and Pierpoint Street. There must have been 100 switchboards in a large room, and the Head Supervisor controlled all the Staff. We worked shifts as the service was 24hrs a day. We were taught four people at a time. We had to write down every phrase that had to be used i.e. number please, I’m trying to connect you, this number is unobtainable etc etc, pages and pages of sentences, all to be used for every call connected. Tickets had to be made out every time a call was made through the exchange. The price of the call was worked out from the code letter according to the distance involved.
Training took about two months, and we eventually received our ‘head sets’ — they weighed very heavy. We then had to learn the layout of the switchboards, learning how to route calls.
At last we were let loose on the public, strictly supervised. We were all trembling from nerves. My very first call was an emergency call for an ambulance — I nearly fell off my chair!! Thankfully, my supervisor was impressed.

This story was submitted to the People's War site by June Woodhouse (volunteer) of the CSV Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Hereford and Worcester on behalf of an anonymous person (author) and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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