大象传媒

In 1986, during a conversation with a neighbour who was some 25 years my senior, we discovered that we had both been at opposite ends of Margate pier during the evacuation of Dunkirk. I remembered the date precisely as it was my 14th birthday; Tom remembered the date and time as he was Captain of one of the many vessels involved in the evacuation of our troops who were under rout at that time.

I used to hang around Margate harbour from an early age, hoping for a ride in a boat (the harbour and shore were still accessible at this time.) Word had got around that things were very dodgy in France and naturally I was curious and went to see the troops returning in paddle steamers and launches. The boats tied up at the end of the jetty and the troops were then bussed to the station. I remember that French soldiers were brought off as well, but that they were transported away separately.

One Frenchman had hold of a German Glengarry-type cap. We children shouted out Vive la France! The French soldier waved the cap and threw it to us. One of my friends caught it and we all envied him. The first of the spoils of war!

The evacuation of troops went on for some days. Shortly afterwards, word came that whole schools were going to be evacuated. We were called into school and told that there would be a special train to take us up to Staffordshire. My older sister, Rosie, would be going with her Girls Grammar School and so we would be separate.

They were all billeted in Stafford. Some of us were quite excited and looked upon it as an adventure. My parents were very anxious but they had to stay in Margate for a while longer while they packed up their greengrocer鈥檚 shop and made the house secure.

We set off on a very hot day, probably with too many clothes on, all with gasmasks and luggage. We didn鈥檛 stop at all until we were about half way. Women volunteers brought us cups of tea sweetened with condensed milk. It was very strange but I drank mine because I was so thirsty. Eventually we approached Hednesford. We had never seen such things as slag heaps of course and kids were opening the windows and shouting 鈥淟ook at the mountains!鈥� When we left the train we were taken in a long crocodile to the local elementary school where we sat and waited in a classroom. I was with my friend Griggs. We sat for ages and people came in and left with various children. We were the last ones to be chosen. Then the woman who was to be my landlady came in, Mrs Jordan. She looked at us and said 鈥淚鈥檒l have that one鈥� pointing at me 鈥渂ut I can鈥檛 take two.鈥�

Griggs went to live near the Jordans鈥� with a consumptive woman who had a bungalow. I was warned never to go in there. That evening Mr Jordan took me for a walk around the little town to show me the different parts of the district. Mrs Jordan was very kind, a wonderful cook and although things were on ration, she fed us really well.

They had a 3 year old daughter called Anne and Mr Jordan鈥檚 mother in the same household. The old lady warned me to stay away from the girls saying that they could be as bad as the boys! I don鈥檛 think she explained any further.

The next day we reported to Littleworth School. Because it was newly opened and very modern they were able to find us classrooms for our own school. We had our own staff for a short time, but gradually they were called up.

Before we left Kent it had been arranged that I would transfer from the Central School to the Thanet Art School. I had already started going to evening classes there. I was very fed-up with ordinary school, so soon after we were evacuated, one of my school teachers, a Mr Jutson, arranged for me to go and see the principal of Walsall School of Art. He actually seemed quite glad to see a new face and told me that I could start the following week. That would be the winter of 1940/41. I had a rail pass and used to travel on the train from Hednesford to Walsall each day.

During that winter my Mother came up to Hednesford. The Jordans鈥� put her up temporarily and so I had to sleep under the stairs! They soon heard of a house nearby that was coming up for rent and my parents jumped at the chance. My father joined us and got a job in the nearby RAF camp working in the stores and so we were back together again as a family.

When I was 16 I became a telegraph boy in my spare time. The man who ran the local cycle shop also worked in the pits. He employed a 17 year old lad called Ron Stokes to do running repairs and we were friendly. Another mate was the post office messenger and he used to call in and chat as well. He told me that the post office needed an 鈥榓fter hours鈥� extra messenger boy 鈥� was I interested? So I was fixed up with a bike with a lamp which had shutters on it to comply with blackout regulations.

The Post Office had a map on the wall with all of the addresses and I would be shown where to go. It could be very much out of the way. I got threepence a mile and my longest journey earned me one shilling and sixpence. I never knew what was in the envelope, whether it was good news or bad so the greetings I received could be mixed.

Part of the job was to wait and to ask if there was any reply, so they either had to read it in front of you or to go away and read it and then come back and tell you whether or not they wanted to reply; so you soon found out what sort of news it was! If it was good news you might get a tip or even a hug and a kiss, which, at that age, I found very embarrassing. At night folk would be very wary about opening the door. I heard one couple discussing who it might be knocking on the door on one very dark wintry night. They agreed that one of them would hold the poker at the ready whilst the other one opened the door just a crack. I shouted out 鈥淔or God鈥檚 sake, it鈥檚 only a telegram!鈥�

Pronunciation could be a problem. I remember asking an old boy for Budds Road. He kept shaking his head and saying 鈥淣ot rund 鈥榚re.鈥� I suddenly realised my mistake and changed it to 鈥楤oods Rowad.鈥� Ah well, why dincha say so?鈥�

If I worked a Saturday morning then I would be around for the many weddings 鈥� these were usually held in pubs in that area. I had great stacks of greetings telegrams to deliver. These earned me many extra sixpences and glasses of sweet sherry.

Six months before I finished my Art School training I received the brown envelope for call-up. I was hoping to follow my father into the Navy. 鈥淵ou are required to attend a medical examination at Wolverhampton鈥︹�� I joined a row of quiet and very subdued men who were sitting dressed only in their trousers. Then you filled in a form asking for your accomplishments and service wishes. I went to see the Naval Recruitment Officer who asked various questions. 鈥淐ould you row a boat? Can you shoot straight? Right, you鈥檒l be hearing from us.鈥�

Four weeks later I heard that I had to report to the Labour Exchange because my number had been drawn from the ballot which conscripted one in every ten young men down into the mines. There were penalties for non-attendance. I was told 鈥淗ollands 鈥� there are your travel warrant and your papers!鈥� 鈥淭here鈥檚 no point because I鈥檓 not going!鈥� I replied. The man was flabbergasted.

After another couple of weeks I was sent another directive which indicated that I could serve a month in Stafford Gaol and then go down the pit anyway or I could change my mind. I had to give my reasons for refusing. I said that I was claustrophobic and could not possibly work underground. I was sent for a second medical and the MO said that there was nothing wrong with me. Someone I knew told me that I could appeal 鈥� so I went before the Appeal Board but they turned me down. Then the Principal of the Art School told me that I would do better not to have a prison record.

The next thing that I knew was that I was summonsed to appear in court as the machinery had already been set in motion. So I went before the Magistrate and said 鈥淩ight, I鈥檒l go down, I鈥檝e changed my mind!鈥� Then I walked straight out of the court not realising that I had to pay 拢3.00 in costs. A policeman came to the house and I had to go back to the court and pay the fine. My parents didn鈥檛 like the idea of my working underground at all, but they didn鈥檛 like the idea of prison either, so they were relieved in a way: The lesser of two evils.

Initially we were sent to a training pit for four weeks. We spent 2 weeks on the surface learning about the type of work and the rules and so on, then we had two weeks below. They used old spent pits for training to get us used to the environment. Then I had two weeks loading pit props and screening coal (for different sizes) and met some very rude naughty girls. My education started there!

My first practical problem was that I didn鈥檛 have any pit clothes. All of my clothes were 鈥榞ood鈥� clothes and all clothing was on ration throughout the war. I was lent a suit by a neighbour which drew many a laugh and a comment from the miners. I was given a job on a loader end. It was well ventilated down in that part. There were boys as young as 14 down there as that was then the school leaving age. I had to put a sprocket into the wheels to slow down the tubs. I complained because you sometimes had to put your head low down between the tubs and I felt there was no protection. I was told to be careful and to get on with it! We generally worked on haulage because to work on the face could have put both us and the experienced miners in danger, as well as slowing them down. I hauled timber and iron hoops which were used on the tub wheels, sometimes working with a horse.

Eventually I was given a job where I sat at the end of the coal face and operated scoops which filled the hopper. Then you would ring the bell to let the chap at the other end know that it was alright to haul the hopper up then he would send an empty one back and it would start over again. We started at 7.00 am and worked until 3.00 pm. We worked a 5 陆 day week and earned 11 shillings and 1 penny per shift, making a grand total of 拢2.15s.5 陆 d per week 鈥� before deductions. We lived in the miner鈥檚 hostel and so nearly half of the money went on our keep. All food was rationed but was reasonable. We were given extra rations of cheese! Skilled men who worked on the face got a lot more money. They earned at least five pounds a week and were on peace work.

By 1946, most of the regular forces had been demobilised, but the Bevin Boys had not. We were restless and dissatisfied. Some of us got into the habit of working just enough hours to pay the hostel bill and then would go out and about doing other work, pulling potatoes, picking fruit, odd jobs, anything to earn a little and to get our into the world again. An overseer came to see us at the hostel and said 鈥淚 know you鈥檝e been skiving off 鈥� so I tell you what鈥檚 going to happen. You鈥檙e going to finish in here and then I鈥檓 going to make it my business to make very sure that you鈥檙e called up again and you can start your National Service in the Army!鈥� This was a real blow; but again we all had to go for medicals. I had let myself get into a fairly low state and the MO said that I wasn鈥檛 fit to serve in anything and so I went south again and rejoined my family.

This story was collected by Jill Hollands and submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Becky Barugh of the 大象传媒 Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Fred Hollands and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.