大象传媒

I had just turned twelve, and was living in Lupset, a suburb of Wakefield when war broke out in 1939. My earliest recollection of that time was when a convoy of trucks came rolling down the road one day, filled with men in A.R.P. and Civil Defence uniforms. As children, we had never seen anything like this before, and were filled with excitement. Everyone turned out to see this event, and all the kids were hanging over their gates cheering.
Suddenly everyting was a bustle. Mam was busy making blackout curtains, as all windows had to be thoroughly darkened, not a glimmer of light must show. To her chagrin, our houseproud neighbour, Mrs. Webster could no longer leave her curtains wide open for everyone to see her 'showcase' front room.
With my brother Gordon and I as eager helpers, Dad was kept busy digging an enormous hole in our neat back lawn, in preparation for the Anderson shelter.
After lining the floor with wooden planks, and camouflaging the outside with grass sods, an old carpet was laid. A first aid box, tinned food, old blankets, stools, torches, candles and matches, were then kept inside in case of emergency.
On reflection, we rarely used that shelter, apart from a couple of practice raids, although we children had a whale of a time playing in it.
As Dad was in a reserved occupation, he joined the Civil Defence, where his duties included fire watching, checking for breaches of blackout, and generally helping out where necessary. He also took a first aid course. Men countrywide, were volunteering for active service, or being conscripted, while children in London were being evacuated to safer areas.
Everyone was issued with gas masks, hideous smelly things in square cardboard boxes, for which Mam made rexine covers. Fortunately, rumours that they would be useless in a gas attack were never put to the test.
Apart from a few minor inconveniences, life continued more or less as normal in Lupset that first year, then Mam decided to open a shop in Westgate End in town. Moving to the shop, we suddenly realised that we had no shelter at all! Our next door neighbour was a kindly old lady, Mrs. Hoole, whose two sons ran the barbers shop, which had a huge cellar below. They assured Mam and Dad that in the event of a raid we must all join them there.
After almost a couple of years in the shop, Mam and Dad decided to move to a nice house near the park, about fifteen minutes walk away. This was a large four storey terrace house, with a huge semi basement, divided into a cosy kitchen at the rear, and a large storage cellar in front, which had a reinforced steel plate on the ceiling, specifically for use in an air raid.
Before moving into this house, Mam and Dad would depart each evening, immediately after supper, to scrub, paint, and paper. On one such evening, my young brother Gordon and I were in the living room behind the shop, when we heard a strange drone, so went outside to investigate.
It was around eight o clock, on a beautiful summer evening, and looking up, we saw a plane. As we watched, something fell from it, making a peculiar whistling sound.
Rushing back inside, we heard a huge explosion, whereupon I charged upstairs, grabbed my little sister who was asleep, and we all ran hell for leather to Mrs. Hoole next door.
There had been no air raid sirens. No warning whatsoever!
Meantime, Mam and Dad, hearing the explosion which had shaken the house, downed tools immediately and raced home panic stricken to see how we were. The bomb had landed at the entrance to the park, making a large crater,very close to the new house.
Following that incident, we had regular air raids, often having to sleep in the cellar. Several times the blast from nearby bombs blew the back door open, despite it having been securely locked.
One such night will remain forever in my memory. There had been several explosions quite nearby, shaking the house to its foundations. At that time I was attending the Wakefield School of Arts and Crafts, and on arriving the following morning, heard some devastating news. Mr. Topping, one of our teachers, who lived on the opposite side of the park to me, had been on duty as an air raid warden. Before leaving home, he had instructed his wife and two small sons to remain in the shelter until he returned.
As there had been a lot of activity that night, he was unable to get back until well after the all clear had sounded. He was horrified on arriving home to see several houses on the opposite side of his street, razed to the ground, but relieved to see his own home intact. Rushing inside, he found a note from his wife. She had gone over the road to be with a friend. His entire family had been wiped out!
I was almost sixteen when Dad was transferred to Darlington, and we moved once again. My one ambition was to join the W.R.N.S. when I was eighteen. In the meantime, I got a job as a Copy Girl, in the Creed Room at the Northern Echo newspaper.
After a few months, my boss, Mr. Stewart, asked if I would like to train as a telegraphist. I was eager to learn how to send and receive the morse code, and before long, I was a fully qualified telegraphist, proud to learn that I was one of only a select few of female press telegraphists. This had always been a male preserve. The downside was, that I was unable to join the W.R.N.S. as I was replacing a man, in a reserved occupation.
I loved that job however, and my earnings rose to 拢7.50 per week, more than many men at that time. It was an exciting environment in those days.
I remember one Saturday afternoon, I was busy taking down the racing results. I was about seventeen, and very shy. Looking up suddenly, I saw a sea of faces, in the corridor, staring through the windows, all eyes on me! They were soldiers from the Signal Corps at Catterick Camp, who had come to see how we used telegraphy in a newspaper office.
Exciting days.
Naturally, after years of air raids, food and clothing rations, austerity lighting, and hardship, everyone was jubilant when the war ended. The loss in human life was tragic, but looking back, I remember a great spitit of unity and friendship between people. There was a sense of togetherness, which sadly, seems to have been lost over the intervening years.

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