大象传媒

This story, by Enid Steele, is one of a series of contributions from 大象传媒 Radio Cornwall listeners. They responded to an appeal by me to write in with their memories. The author understands the terms and conditions under which her article is submitted.

A child's wartime memories by Enid Steele.

I lived in the suburbs south of Manchester with Mum, Dad and my younger sister Peggy. Our house was between the Manchester Ship Canal and Ringway aerodrome. This meant that the area was a target for German bombers and lots of incendiaries were dropped. At night, we slept in a Morrison shelter. It was made of steel and looked like a table, but with mesh sides.

I remember that food and fuel were in short supply. Mum kept hens for eggs that later became boiling fowl. Dad made brickettes for the fire from coal dust and cement. He used a 1lb corned beef tin as a mould. The brickettes were grey and as a special winter treat we would burn one on a Sunday. If there was enough heat we would toast bread. Sometimes there was enough for a slice each.

School was in the country, between Newton and Slaidburn. We would leave the city each term on a steam train bound for Clitheroe. We got into trouble for trying to reserve seats by putting our boxes of pet rabbits on them. School was in a valley at the bottom of a steep hill. A tree near the gates had a sign saying "Out of bounds to troops." The river Hodder ran through this area and in summer we would swim in its waters. From the dormitory windows we could see the searchlights criss crossing the sky.

On Sunday mornings we would walk to Newton for the 11am meeting of the Society of Friends. Our headmaster, Dr Fitch, took the service. We all wore clogs. Some were metal bottomed and, like horse shoes, you could build up the soles till they were sometimes as tall as eight inches. In the afternoon we would receive our sweet ration. One or two boxes were lined up on the edge of the stage. We could have up to six sweets each. If they were jelly babies I would quickly bite their heads off so no-one else would be tempted to eat them. The food at school was mixed. We had corned beef, or boiled potatoes served with whole cold beetroot and a white sauce. Desert was macaroni pudding and dates. My best friend Susan did not like the dried bananas we were given, so I used to get her ration. I made sure we stayed friends! Once, a ship docked with a consignment of food. I remember going with Mum on three separate buses to get to the docks with our blue ration books. We queued for ages and came away with a real orange each. We were so proud and walked down the street showing them off.

Dad was a land surveyor for the Ministry of Works. It was his job to requisition strips of farmers land for the secret PLUTO (pipeline under the ocean) project that eventually supplied fuel to the allies after D-Day. It ran under the channel, from England to Normandy. He also sought out areas that could be used as prisoner of war camps, food storage depots and telephone exchanges. Dad was given a small petrol allowance and he used to save as much as possible by turning the engine off when going downhill. Once each summer we would drive to Blackpool to see our grandparents who lived nearby. Peggy and I loved it, especially sailing on the lake. We were fascinated by the walky snaps photographers. They used to take pictures of passers by and hang them up on their stall. If you liked your portrait, you could buy it. Dad's sister, Auntie May, always smelt of paraffin. She used it for cleaning around the house. At Christmas we would go to see our other grandparents in Bradford. We were there when Manchester was bombed. I remember going back home on the train shortly afterwards. Where once homes stood there was rubble, burning household items and billowing smoke.

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