大象传媒

My father took me from Birmingham to Onibury in
South Shropshire at the outbreak of war. I was about ten years old at the time. It seemed strange and so quiet after life in the city. I was enrolled in the village school and enjoyed learning with the local children. Among training facilities at the school, there was a 'patch' of ground nearby where we were taught how to grow flowers and vegetables, and how to appreciate and recognise a wide range of wild animals, birds,insects, plants and trees, and the necesssary preparations for the seasonal changes.

Life on the farm was so different from city life, with the strange smells and calls of animal
life and the unusual noises made by various farm machines, all new to the ear, which I soon became used to. In one of the farm buildings on the ground floor, there was a powerful single cylinder horizontal Tangye oil engine, which was started up from time, to time to operate various flat belt driven machines on the first floor of the same building to prepare swedes, hay, straw or clover for consumption by live stock. This oil engine is now in different private ownership.

At harvest time children were expected to be available to help with taking food and drink to the workers in the fields, where the cereal crops were being cut for transport in large haywaynes to the rick yard at the farm. This was when double summer time existed in order to make the most of daylight hours, since all lights at night had to be shielded, whether indoors or out. Occasionally we were allowed to ride back on a horse as they towed the heavy loads to the farm barns.

In the Autumn a mobile thrashing box came, towed and powered by a steam traction engine, which would be set up in the rick yard for thrashing the wheat, barley and oats in turn. Many dogs were in attendance to try and kill as many rats as possible fleeing from the base of the ricks. Soon after the thrashing was completed, a travelling cider mill would set up in the fold in order to press juice from the new season's cider apples, collected from the farm's two mixed orchards. The juice was conveyed by rubber hose down to freshly cleaned large barrels waiting in the extensive cellars beneath the farm house, where the precious liquid gradually 'worked', until a few months later it was ready for consumption by the farm workers and others.

In the late Autumn of 1940 the tenant farmer, a lady, (she had lost her husband early in the 1930s) gave a Harvest Supper in the large farm kitchen, when she thanked the farm workers, and villagers who had helped on the farm during the past year. After a good meal, in spite of wartime restrictions, the tables and chairs were pushed away leaving room, so that with the help of a fiddler engaged for the evening, dancing and singing could take place. Between times, jokes and stories were told much to the enjoyment of all. Sometime early next morning, the event ended with everyone having had a jolly time. This was the only event of its kind I remember, but such a happy one.

The Winter of 1940/1 was a hard one dealing severely with water supplies,food and fuel suppies, wild life, road surfaces, trees and telephone lines along the roads and railways. I remember only too well the many birds frozen to death on the branches of trees and on rocky shelves of the quarry close to the railway station, as the result of hoar frost. There was great damage done to telephone wires which could not support the added weight of the frost. These snapped at regular intervals, and the poles carrying these wires with the extra weight were themselves caused to lie at crazy angles before crashing to the ground and snapping more wires in the process. This caused great difficulties for the railway authorities and road transport. Branches of trees also snapped off, some falling across the road as the result of the extra weight on them.

During this hard frost, the long narrow pond about 100 yards in front of the farm house froze solid, and on being measured the ice was found to be 10 inches thick. On several occasions the villagers gathered on and round the pond to skate or play a form of ice hockey, using as a puck a piece of coal from the railway nearby and upturned umbrellas, walking sticks, and hockey sticks to play with. If one stood at one end of the pond and looked along it, you could see the ice rippling under the weight of people, and hear it cracking. However no one came to any harm.

Normally, the farm ducks and geese were to be found on the pond, but occasionally a few swans would visit. However they were not welcomed by the residents. Once when some swans tried to land on the iced over surface, when their webbed feet touched the ice, they lost control and skidded all over the place, causing the resident birds to panic and flee. Each year large sheep sales were held at Craven Arms to which stock came from a wide area of Shropshire and adjacent counties. Sheep on the farm where I lived were shorn and dyed ready to be herded along the A49 to the sales ground, but on the way they had to share the road with Military convoys travelling in both directions. The sheep did not like this and found any hole in the hedges through which to escape, after which they were re gathered by faithful sheep dogs to continue their way to the sales ground. An interesting story was told by a farmer from mid Wales who was selling his sheep, before a few days later having his family, furniture, remaining livestock and machinery transported by rail to a new farm in Somerset. Something not possible today.

Among the various crops grown on the farm, were mangold wurzels, swedes, turnips and sugar beet. The latter when lifted, was carted by arrangement to Onibury Station from where it was taken by rail to Wellington near Shrewsbury for processing, after which it was returned in large sacks by rail to Onibury Station for collection by the farmer.

Across the lane from the farm was the village church of St Michael, where I was for a time a reluctant choirboy. From time to time it was necessary to take turns to pump the small organ up in the gallery. On one occasion I was supposed to pump ready for the hymn after the sermon, somehow I forgot and received a severe stare from the vicar, and a ticking off after the service ended.

Across the farm yard opposite the farm house, there was a stable housing 7 fine shire horses. The farm also had an old Fordson Major tractor, which on one occasion I was riding on the nearside rear mudguard whilst it was being driven to one of the upper fields. However when we were going past a certain patch of brambles and nettles, that same wheel suddenly came off its axle and I found myself heading into these at an alarming pace. About an hour and a half later when the wheel had been replaced, and the scratches and stings had been attended to, we continued up to the field non the worse for the event.

Across the river Onny, there was a fine weir, which we were not supposed to walk along the cill of, but of course we did and got belted as a result. On the far side there was a farm where fresh milk could be bought, as well as cream, butter and eggs. The weir sadly collapsed not long after the war, as the result of a weakness exploited by a late high winter flood level

When we had a chance, we children would go for a long walk, and on one occasion we walked as far North as the Strettons, keeping well to the East side of the A49. As it was getting late we needed to go down to the A49 to find a bus to get home. Unfortunately in doing so we found ourselves taken in hand by soldiers who were guarding the long lines of military vehicles parked neatly along the length of the not long previously opened Stretton Bypass, which had been taken over for use as a storage area. We were conducted to the Southern end of the storage area and told to clear off, or words to that effect! Not long after we caught a bus home, and arrived to the inevitable,'where have you been all day'.

One day a number of army lorries came and parked along the lane running between the village and Bromfield. Soon after getting out of the lorries the soldiers began to set up half round huts made from rolled corrugated iron sheets, at regular intervals just inside the field hedges. These huts were filled later with ammunition of different kinds stored ready for use in the Second Front. Finally they were covered over with camouflage netting. Goodness knows how many tons of ammunition were stored there. Can't see that being done safely today ?

In due course I left the village school and went to the Grammar School. As part of the war effort we were required to make military camouflage netting, taking it in turns on a Saturday morning to weave strips of hessian of three different colours into long rolls of about ten feet width by 3 inch square rough string mesh hanging from a high ceiling on the ground floor room in Castle Square Ludlow near to where the post box stands today. We did not much enjoy the work, because the khaki coloured dye came off as a dust which made us sneeze and got on our skin and in the hair and clothes, to the annoyance of our parents.

One morning in the Summer of 1942, whilst crossing the farm yard to do a job, I heard an aircraft flying at a fairly low height. On turning to see it, it turned out to be a two engined Junkers bomber at about 400 feet flying South following the railway line. It was out of sight quickly. Years later I learned it was probably this same aircraft which was shot down in S. Wales. On more than one occasion we found unexploded incendiary bombs around the village, which thinking of it now, we foolishly picked up, took home and hid. When I returned later to Birmingham, this bomb went with me and for a time was used as a bedroom doorstop, until my Father decided to take it to the police station where he received a stern ticking off, passing this on to me at the supper table the same evening. I believe there may well be other similar bombs waiting to be found there, especially in the ponds of a certain local large house. On another occasion, we were in the top orchard, when one of the lads on looking up into a certain apple tree, noticed a piece of siver painted tube about 1 inch in diameter by about 6 feet long with a rectangular pressing attached to one end. None of us knew what it was, so we climbed the tree to have a closer look, and eventually brought it down. What to do with it ? We decided to take it to the farm house where the farmer was told who immediately phoned the police who came about an hour later and wanted to know all we could tell about it. The policeman after removing his helmet then scratched his head, ticked us off, saying that it might be dangerous, replaced his helmet, pulled some string from his pocket and tied the tube to the cross bar of his bicycle, after which he left and we heard no more. Years later I saw another of these items at Cosford R. A. F. Museum with an explanation of what purpose it had served. Part of a container for holding a number of a small type of bomb.

For a time, German prisoners of war were sent to the farm to help, but were found not to work very well, so not long after, they were replaced by Italian prisoners who were liked and worked better. They made, or carved toys for the small children, and also made 'espadrilles' sandles for adults, using scrap lengths of binder twine. Some of the Italians had good voices and sang beautifully, even though we did not understand the words they were singing, it was a pleasure to listen to them. For a time there was a training school for Home Guards men at a house not far from the village. One Saturday morning just after breakfast, after leaving the kitchen to go and do a job, two heavily camouflaged Home Guards men were noticed entering the far side of the farm yard where they stopped close to the stable door, the leading man then pulled a 'thunderflash' from a holder, struck it on the base and then threw it into the stable where 6 of the 7 horses were resting, not needed for work that morning. What happened after was chaos, and the poor horses quickly fled terrified, making for the lane nearby where they disappeared in either direction. Hours later when all the animals had been recovered, some of them would not go near the stable and had to be housed temporarily in other buildings until weeks later they were sufficiently calmed down and ready to return to their normal tethers. Needless to say the farmer was furious and had an almighty row with the officer in charge who was later handed a hefty vets bill to pay for the injuries the horses had incurred. The wagoner too was very cross indeed when he learned what had happened to his horses. He had a close association with these beasts and treated them with great care, even under the most difficult circumstances.

Sometime during the Summer of 1941 I think it was, after a lull in the bombing of Birmingham, one of my Grandfathers arranged for me to go and stay with him for a short while. The same evening I arrived, the German bombing of the City started again, the raid lasted three and a half hours, and was not a pleasant experience. Fortunately no one was hurt and the house only received slight damage from shrapnel. Later that day, I found myself on a bus returning back to the country after a brief but 'educational' visit. All of our relatives who stayed in the City during the war survived, though some of their homes were damaged. Eventually the time came when my Father said it was time to leave the country. Not long after, as for many young men, National Service beckoned, in my case in the R.A.F., which I enjoyed, but that is another story. The stay in S. Shropshire had been a happy experience, so much so that a few years after National Service had been completed, I decided to leave the City to live and work in Shropshire again. A decision never regretted.

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