大象传媒

Cammel Laird memories

My name is Kate Cooper. I was born on the 17th July 1926 in Neston, a village on the River Dee in Cheshire.
In 1939 when World War 2 was declared, I was living with my parents,
Hannah-Lilley and Alfred Bamford, and my three sisters and brother in a house called 鈥楬olmwood鈥� in Parkgate Road

As each of my older sisters reached the call-up age, my father did his utmost to steer them towards a reserved occupation. He was determined that his daughters would not go into the forces 鈥� 鈥渋t was no place for a woman鈥�. When I鈥檇 been a youngster, I鈥檇 been promised I could go to Art School, as it was what I really wanted to do. However, 鈥榓rt鈥� wasn鈥檛 on the wartime priority list. So, even before I had taken my final School Certificate, an interview was arranged for me at Cammel Laird and Co., Birkenhead. My dad took me there on a Crosville bus. I don鈥檛 even remember being asked if it was what I wanted to do.
Cammel Laird鈥檚 was a major shipbuilding yard on the River Mersey. The interview was for a 3 year apprenticeship in the drawing office as a tracer. I was interviewed by a Miss Weaver, the Head Tracer who was elderly and not much fun. Pending School Certificate results, I was taken on, to commence that September. I stayed there for six years until I married in 1949.
Life at Cammel Laird鈥檚 was hardly a dream come true, but there were few alternatives and choice was a luxury. One day, probably in the second year, I went out into the town at lunch-time, along with another girl, to look for the recruitment office, where we signed on for the W.R.N.S. I think we liked the uniform better than that of the other two forces!
A few days later, we received a letter saying we had not been accepted as we were already employed in a reserved occupation.
Once, we 鈥榚scaped鈥� from the office at lunch-time, and watched from behind a woodpile while a submarine was being launched. Everything in the yard was treated with the utmost secrecy. The names of the ships we worked on were not written on the drawings, just code numbers. The rats that lived in the office used to run on the drawing boards and up the walls. If we complained we were told that they came in on the ships and nothing could be done about them. There were nests in the cupboards made from chewed up paper and tracing cloth.

The morning walk from my bus at Birkenhead Central to the shipyard was sometimes difficult if there had been heavy bombing the previous night, with piles of rubble and people digging.
A pass was needed to come through the gatehouse each morning. When the yard closed at the end of the day, the big gates were opened to allow the hundreds of workers to pass out.
Miss Weaver, our boss, had the prestigious job of decorating the champagne bottles used when the ships were launched. The bottle was placed in a metal cradle and the whole thing was entwined with red, white and blue ribbons and rosettes. When each one was completed, we were allowed to file through the office and admire it. But we never got to see any of the launches, until years later when the Queen Mother came to launch the new Ark Royal.

Cammel Laird was also proud of its male-voice choir, led by choir master Charlie Scarratt. The shortage of men during the war years meant that females were finally admitted. I joined the choir and remember singing with them on the stage of the Picton Hall, Liverpool in a celebration concert for one of the Allied victories.

At other times we ventured out into the yard to listen to orators who stood on boxes to speak, or rather shout, to the assembled crowd of workers. Many of the speakers were well-known Communists, whose names regularly featured in the press at the time. I did in fact buy the 鈥楧aily Worker鈥� each day for a while, but finally gave up when I realised I didn鈥檛 dare face my father鈥檚 wrath by taking it home and had to leave it on the bus every night!
It was while working in the shipyard that my fascination with politics began. One winter during the war I registered for an evening course, 鈥楢 History of the British Working Class, which was held at Liverpool University. I travelled to the course once a week after work. My journey took me on the underground train from Birkenhead into the pitch dark of Liverpool鈥檚 black-out. I then had a walk up Brownlow Hill, past many small children sitting on the steps of pubs, waiting for their parents.
The hours we worked at Cammel Lairds were 8.30 - 6.00 weekdays and 8.30 - 12.00 on Saturdays. We could be requested to work overtime without notice and without pay. A small recompense was the sardine sandwiches provided for us on these occasions. First year apprentice鈥檚 wages were 14 shillings 5p per week, the second year was 17 shillings and the third and final year was 拢1. However, we never received the whole of that pound, as a penny was deducted as a first subscription to the Merseyside Penny-in-the-pound scheme. I can鈥檛 recall if this was a charity set up by employers or the unions. The benefits were for support in sickness and hospitalisation. However, I soon had reason to be grateful for my membership, as the following year I had an attack of appendicitis. The operation was performed in a local Cottage Hospital by the family doctor, who was himself a surgeon. A small amount of pocket money was given as a further benefit during the month I was on sick leave.

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