大象传媒

Sometimes we were what was called spare. This meant we were there in case any other conductor failed to turn up for duty. The time of these shifts were 4 am and 5 am, which meant I had to arise at 3 am, a bit eerie at times. On one occasion I felt sure I was being followed, I could hear the movement in the dry autumn leaves. Of course there were no street lights, but at one spot half way to the depot there was a glimmer of lght from something. I stopped, turned round and there was a tiny kitten which had followed me all the way. Another time I was stopped by a brilliant light being shone in my face. I called out 'silly fool'; it was in fact two policemen. They told me they were on the lookout for an escaped prisoner of war. I was rather scared but I carried on to work, if I had been attacked I could use my heavy ticket rack.
Some of our trips were to the Silk Mills at Leek. As the girls came on the bus I remember how bright their eyes shone. The silk must have given them this appearance.
The months were going by, all fetching the end of the war; My husband Albert was out in the Middle East, serving with the Royal Tank Regiment. He had been called up in March 1940, and was sent to the Middle East in November 1940. We corresponded with each other almost every day. Albert used to number his letters each day there was a new address, such as at the end of a battle. They run into many hundreds. More and more service men seemed to be using the buses, and one had a feeling of affinity with them. All of us trying to put a brave face on the war situation. Some would confide their worries to me and I hope I cheered them up a little. But there was not a lot of time to talk, the bus was always full, and we had to keep to a time table. Some instances made me feel sad. Such as the time a young Airman boarded my bus on the Derby run. He had hitch-hiked the previous evening from Derby to a small village called Denstone, where his young brother was at the college there. He told me that they were originally from South Africa and their parents were dead. I had the impression that he was about to take part in a large operation, and prayed all would go well for a safe return.
When the American Forces started to arrive the villages and towns were livened up a little. Pubs over-full, Jeeps and heavy trucks were to be seen screeching around. The time came when the GIs threatened to take over the ladies in a small market town called Uttoxeter. A ban was put on their activities and they were forbidden to enter the town on certain nights. But as usual a way out was found. Just outside the town was a large wooden fence and we would see the lads sitting there waitihg for the girls to go out to them. I felt sad when one young GI gave me the ticket he had travelled from home with, a Greyhound ticket from Philadelphia. He said ''You may as well have this, it's a one way ticket.鈥� I kept the ticket as a talisman that he would have the good fortune to come through the war safely. I came across the ticket some time ago and sent it to the Greyhound bus company who were pleased to have it as a wartime souvenier. To economise on fuel the bus company I worked for decided to have a trial run on buses fuelled by gas. I often had this double decker on the Stafford run. I felt like 'Pat Collins Circus' with this huge gas cylinder trailing behind the bus. I have been unable to get a picture of it but we did look comical.
At the end of November 1943 the Christmas Card I sent out to Albert was returned, and shortly after I received a telegram to say that he would be back in England in time to celebrate Christmas. Three years was a long time to be apart,and I thought 鈥淪uppose I can't recognise him, suppose he gets on my bus.鈥� So every soldier wearing a Tank beret had a free ride. 'How silly we are when young'.
In February 1944 we had a delayed honeymoon in Bridlington. Albert was stationed there, during his training for D Day. There was a great air of expectancy now. Travelling to and from Stafford we would see in the early morning light heavy Army trucks and other military vehicles making their way to the South coast. A few weeks before D-day my route was to a small village called Swynnerton. There was an ammunition factory there. It was also the base for some of the American soldiers. We were waiting for the night workers to come off the factory prior to taking them back to town. The light was dim, then all at once I could hear singing and the sound of marching feet. A platoon of smart young American soldiers came into view. They were travelling to a small isolated railway station at a small village called Cotes Heath. It gave me a queer feeling, their very appearance was that they were ready for battle.
On the morning of June 6th I came off a split turn, at about ten thirty in the morning and there was a special edition of our local paper being so1d on the streets with the exciting news that the invasion had begun. A few days later as we were parked on the railway bridge at Stafford waiting for the night shift to come off the factory nearby, I looked over the bridge.I could see in the railway siding a large train bearing the 'Red Cross'. The train had brought the wounded back from Europe. This brought the war situation closer to home, it was here in our midst. Two weeks later I was called in the office, I was told that a bus was being supplied to collect a number of wounded soldiers, from Sandon Hall which was being used as a war hospital. They were local lads who would be met by relatives in Hanley. I was told I would have to charge them a certain fare. I thought 鈥淲hat an injustice.鈥� If I did not charge them the bus would not be provided again. I reluctantly took their momey, I was responsible for their safe return, but one bright young spark caught me out. Halfway through the journey, he asked if he could go to the toilet in the nearby town.We waited for quite a while but he had dodged off in the night. When I reported back at the hospital a truck was sent out and he was soon found and brought back. When we had arrived back in Sandon the boys on the bus said could they call at the local pub the 'Dog and Doublet.' Unknown to to the driver and I, they had had a whip round for us to have a drink with them. This was very touching, so we broke all the rules,and escorted them into the pub.
Albert had gone over to Normandy on June 9th but was a bit closer to home than in the Middle East.Things were looking a little brighter now and we all thought the war would end very soon.
On occasions I was sent to work at other depots. One was to Stafford depot. My first trip I was told was to a factory at a small village called Knighton.I thought there鈥檚 a joke here, but sure enough there was a factory, Cadburys Chocolate factory; the chocolate was made in bulk and sent to Birmingham by barge along the nearby canal. The fields were full of lovely brown cows.
Another time I was sent to a village called Cheswardine, not big enough to need a depot you would think. Lots of jolly ifarmers travelled on this route.One sunny Saturday evening I had put all my passengers down, and as the bus was turning round a bright faced young farm lad came runring up. I thought he wanted to travel back with us. But it was not so, he had in his hand a bunch of fresh summer blooms and presented them to me with a smile and thanks for the journey. I recalled this incident a few years ago when the first adverts came out for the 'Body Spray Impulse' - sometimes adverts are true apparently.
The managment wanted me to train for a higher position and were sorry when I decided to leave the service as I was expecting our first child in December 1945. Albert was by this time at the Danish border and as he was disarming German soldiers he was slightly wounded and sent back to Englad. After recuperation he was engaged in training for the far East. The war ended before he was sent out there. He was demobbed in December as a key worker at the Wedgwood pottery factory. He was home on time for the birth of our son, December 28th 1945.

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