大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War website by B. Jelf of Congleton Museum and K. Helsby of Congleton Library on behalf of Eileen Jones, and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

I (Eileen Jones) went to the Central School of Manchester, but unfortunately just failed my Maths exam 鈥� if you didn鈥檛 pass both Maths and English (2 of the 8 subjects taken) you failed all of them, and therefore I didn鈥檛 get my School Leaving Certificate. I was very ill as a child, and missed quite a lot of school.

At age 15, I got a job as a part-time assistant at a post office. I worked from 3 鈥� 8:15pm, six days a week. There was a recession at the time, so I took the job and started in 1933. I could be sent to other post office counters at any time, and a telegraph boy would appear at my home with a telegraph to tell me where I would be working that day. It could be a long way from home, or somewhere I did not know, and my only means of travel was the tram 鈥� I had no telephone or car.

Eventually I became a senior telegraph officer, and worked full time (48 hours). I decided to apply to be a clerical assistant, which meant more money and fewer hours (40).

During the War, I worked at the post office in Sale, Manchester. I lived in North Manchester, at Moston. At first I worked at Newton Heath. My father, Ellis, was a pattern maker at a joiners and the family was moved to Cheadle, Cheshire in 1939 to be near to his work. I applied to head office for a move to an office on the South side, and the only one offered was in Sale, which I accepted. I was not familiar with that area, and did not realise the journey would be difficult and very time consuming. The blackouts were on, and it took 2 buses and a lot of walking for the trip. I decided to get a bicycle on weekly terms -- for half a crown a week and cycled the 8 miles to and from work. The journey wasn鈥檛 so bad during the daylight hours, but at night it was grim!

Then came the Manchester Blitz. The post office was right next to Trafford Park, an industrial area, which the Germans targeted. We had to open each day to queues of people, bombed out and homeless, some with bandages and many only left with the clothes on their backs 鈥� many with children and babes in arms.

The people of Sale who had unoccupied bedrooms officially had to take in evacuees who were granted fees to pay towards accommodation. These fees were cashed at the post office. Also many people were sending telegrams to relations, many asking for alternative accommodation. The queues in the post office lasted most of the day, and we had difficulty getting any refreshment 鈥� the cleaner and some of the sorting staff would kindly bring us cups of tea etc. 鈥� we got very few breaks.

On the night the raid started, it was too severe to consider leaving, so we sat in the boss鈥檚 office (Mr. Stone, our Postmaster) drinking tea and the male members of staff came in and out in their tin hats on fire watch duty.

We were all issued with service respirators which could be fitted with wiring for communication because we could possibly be involved in that way. We were also given tin helmets.

The raid went on into the early hours and we stayed until the 鈥渁ll clear鈥� went, then we left for home. I believe it was between 2:30 and 3am before I got to my bed. My father was working nights at the time, so my mother had been home alone.

The next few days were much of the same 鈥� queues and queues of tragic stories from homeless people, then the raids at night, with me not getting home until nearly 3am each night. All of us were very, very tired. On the night of the 23rd of December, the raid warning went off before we had even finished balancing the books at the end of the day! The boss鈥檚 wife (a Southerner) had arrived just before the warning sounded, determined to not spend another night alone in her house 鈥� she wouldn鈥檛 even consider going into a public shelter (with all those Northerners). After some time, her husband came in after one of his trips out to check on conditions 鈥� he insisted we all go down into the cellar, our air raid shelter, because it was such a severe raid. Being claustrophobic, I was extremely unhappy! The men were taking turns at fire watching. At last the boss came down and asked us all to go upstairs. Of course we all brightened up and we asked if the 鈥渁ll clear鈥� had gone but much to our horror we were told that we were now in the centre of a ring of fires!! Mr. Stone went on 鈥淵ou know what happens next? If they (the Germans) know they have reached the area they intended, they would drop high explosives in the middle!鈥� So he considered it advisable for us to disperse and head for home! As we all reached the post office door, a Molokov Bread Basket hit the yard, scattering incendiaries everywhere! We were all impressed when a young male member of staff whipped his tin hat off and scooped up the incendiaries and tossed them onto the border of earth.

Some staff lived not too far away, and so would be walking. I had the bike. One of the counter girls and one telegraph messenger boy lived in Stretford, so went off together and walked towards Manchester. Of course we then had the terrible view of the great, great roaring fire in the City itself.

Mother had said to me before I left that time that she thought I shouldn鈥檛 ride home but stay at the office and use one of the camp beds which had been supplied and I鈥檇 get some sleep. However, I couldn鈥檛 stay because I was so very worried by the severity of the raid and anxious for my parents.

I got on my bike but couldn鈥檛 turn into the street to head out of Sale because there were hosepipes all over the road 鈥� Woolworths had been on fire but the brigade had left. I went along to the next street, turned again, but a little way along fell off my bike because I hit another hosepipe near the town hall.

Everywhere it was pitch black but looking to my left, I caught the awful sight of the massive fire in Manchester city.

I eventually reached the railway station bridge and was about to cross it when two men shouted out to me 鈥淲hatever are you doing out in this?!鈥� I was taken up by surprise and fell off the bike. When I explained, they told me I could not go up that road over the railway bridge because a high explosive bomb had dropped on the station but had not gone off. I didn鈥檛 know any other way 鈥� the area was unfamiliar to me, so they directed me along a lane and at the junction, I was to turn left as I would be on the main road again.

Another male voice yelled at me and again I came off the bike. He explained that after turning I must ride on the right hand side of the road because Sharston Hall had been on fire, and there were more hosepipes along the way.

Well, at long last I opened the gate and let myself into my home 鈥� lights came on and there were my parents, safe and sound. Dad had decided not to go to work because he had spent the two previous nights in the shelter.

Christmas Eve 鈥� back to Sale, sadly to learn that Isobel (my colleague) reached Stretford and was shocked to find her parents on the corner of the street leading to her home. Her parents had decided to go out and sit with a neighbour who had very recently lost her husband. While they were all out, their home received a direct hit and they became homeless 鈥� everything in a crater, including the cat. They were homeless but she still turned up for work.

When I got home that night, I was delighted to discover that my father鈥檚 late brother鈥檚 wife and young son had come, as invited, from North Manchester to share the festive season with us. It was such a relief to me that I cried.

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