大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by a Patchway Festival volunteer in Patchway Library on behalf of Mary Cole and has been added to the site with her permission. Mary fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Nothing really happened to me during the beginning of the war. I started my working life in service. I first applied at 17 to volunteer for the ATS. All the people said, or thought that I was not my age. At 19 I tried to get into nursing; the forms came back, "not enough schooling". We left school in those days at 14 on our birthday. I had, from 13 been interested in nursing. I had certificates and medals for swimming and life saving, and baby resuscitation from drowning. We learnt all about the heart, lungs and breathing under water, swimming and holding our breath for several minutes or longer. I did First Aid in Wartime courses for St. John鈥檚; I could recite the book through with bones and different aspects of anatomy.

I was then about 6 stone and was thought to be too small, not strong enough, too timid, or whatever for nursing. I was still in service, and my strength had been equal to many of the bigger people at school. I鈥檇 never been ill, never missed a lesson and all big people were always being ill and were pampered, being let off school lessons I never had any epidemics and found out years later, we (my family) had had everything, including pneumonia before we were 5 years old. No wonder my mother died so young in childbirth with 4 of us to look after and work for 鈥� unheard of today!

Of course I was called up again and was attracted to the first advert I looked at on going through the door. It was ATS, WAAFS, WRENS, Fire Service; the latter was my first choice. One look at me and I was again too small! They didn鈥檛 think I could do clerical work either although I鈥檇 taught myself shorthand some time before (my mother was in that kind of work). They suggested that I did farming, so I joined up. I didn鈥檛 tell the aunts and uncles so they didn鈥檛 stop me this time. I went to the station during May 1943. It was the first time that I鈥檇 been on a train. I was scared stiff as I鈥檇 never travelled alone on buses or trains and seldom went anywhere except a visit to my aunts in Kingswood once a week and wasn鈥檛 used to meeting new people on my own.

I was stationed at Morton Valence in Gloucestershire. The farmer met me at the station. When we got to the farm gate his dog saw us from half a mile off, that鈥檚 how long the drive to the house was. The dog bounded towards us and straight into my arms with a good lick of welcome as if I was the owner from then on. I had a most loyal friend, she was nearly always with me after that and the farmer said 鈥淵ou鈥檒l do, I鈥檝e never seen her do that to anyone鈥�. She was supposed to be a fierce guard dog and his cousin, a grown man, was frightened to death by the dog who was kept tied up in the barn when he or anyone else came to visit.

I found horses, cows and dogs weren鈥檛 afraid of me, so I must have had some kind of affinity or scent that they all liked.

Farm 2 Six months after that I was sent to Chaxhill, Westbury on Severn. The farmer was just out of hospital, having had an operation, he had a tin tack on his lung; he must have swallowed it; people do put nails or pins in their mouth when working. All his family were diabetics. Although it was a fruit farm I was there to milk the cows. They never thought that I was too small and I scrambled up thirty-rung ladders. I stayed there for 6 months.
I lived on fruit and milk, as most places I lodged in were short on rations. No one seemed to me to be able to cook and make do like folk did when I was in service. Most were girls my age had husbands in the forces, there were plenty of babies around. The second farm put me off babies, not a whisper of noise or 鈥淵ou鈥檒l wake the baby鈥�. No one had newspapers or talked of war news, radio was a whisper. The herdsman at this farm had a son in the navy. The son's wife had twins, and like many a dad, the dear man never saw his babies until they were four years old. He used to send home clothes from other countries for them and probably had photos sent back to him.

Farm 3 This was at Painswick. The wife was expecting her first baby at the end of the month and her husband fussed like a hen with chicks, both before and after the event. They were both in their forties. I mean animals don鈥檛 fuss or have so much attention in birth; they just calmly get on with it, even though a cow could kill you if you dared get too near as I have heard had happened in a field. I did once go near a cow in labour and the old bull, Billy, with his harem of cows who were all crowded around and he roared at me to 鈥淏e off鈥�, not unlike people, they were all interested in what鈥檚 going on.

Pigs are gorgeous animals (not dirty) they only smell when the weather is wet. My pet pig Sally was a poppet, so friendly and helpful. Every morning I cleaned the sty, or she did. She had a litter of twelve, the prettiest, squeakiest little bundles of pink bodies; where they sleep is all dry and cosy, not a wet straw amongst them. She always pushed the wet, dirty straw in a heap, just by the door so I could open the door; she then squealed to the babies to stay put in the corner and then pushed the heap out the door. All I did was give her a stack of clean straw, in went her nose, under the string and then all hell was let loose and straw went everywhere as they tossed and played with it; until Sally laid down and then all was quiet whilst breakfast was on the go. Then mother washed them clean. They spent the day in fields, then they came back later during the day, or during the evening, back to the sty. You wouldn鈥檛 believe that all these little ones were pot black and filthy. By morning they were all clean and shining pink ready for another day. Pigs have a bad reputation of being dirty naturally they鈥檙e not as dirty as some people鈥檚 houses I could mention. These are the reasons why I don鈥檛 like bacon or pork to eat. No animals are dirty if they have enough to eat, especially cats; horses can鈥檛 clean themselves, but like to roll and rub against trees. We used to tie blocks of salt on fences, which animals like to lick on occasions. Horses have to be brushed and combed. We have to wash cows before milking.

The lady was a lay preacher, I named her baby Andrew; we went through all the Bible names and she liked my choice Andrew because I said that he looked like one and it was uncommon 鈥� it didn鈥檛 become popular till the Queen had her Andrew in 1964. This Andrew remained a loner and never married, he鈥檚 61 now. His sister, who was born just after was very different, friendly with everybody. She married a farmer鈥檚 son and they emigrated to Canada. It鈥檚 always work on farms; even children get roped in doing things.

I made many friends, as most people were Christian people. I was called a Bible puncher once as I went to chapel. I taught at a little Methodist chapel Sunday school in Painswick. It was run by an old lady all through the war and was never closed. Lovely people

My brother was on a farm at Burford so I visited him often while I was working on the farm. When I got married after the war in 1949 as we spent our honeymoon on the Painswick farm and visited all my friends and relatives who were unable to come to our wedding including an aunt and uncle who had a farm at Chedworth in Gloucestershire. Quite a week that was travelling all around the country areas.

Farm 4 This was on Lady Bathhurst鈥檚 estate in Cirencester. This was a dairy farm. We had three milk rounds after milking the two herdsmen who lived with families in farm cottages, and myself milked. One Christmas morning I calved a cow.

I had a cycle and took out the first round, then had breakfast at 10.30a.m. Then I had another short round before I went with a driver in a car to a more distant round, all round country lanes around Cirencester; it lasted till evening milking. It was a very cold job in winter; once I did it alone with horse and cart as most folk in Cirencester and my two milkmen had 'flu. It was snowing on the ground, cars couldn鈥檛 get through so the horse and I ploughed on and I thought that we鈥檇 be stuck in snow for the night. I finished well into the evening, around 9pm after which I had to milk twenty cows. I was still up at 6am to begin milking early. One customer noticed my chilblains and gave me a knitted hat and a pair of fur-lined boots that her little girl had grown out of. I never had chilblains again in my life. It was all hard work; sterilising churns, bottles, buckets and hoses and equipment in the afternoons before the milk could be bottled up. From milking it was strained into a cooler which was a huge contraption; water ran through it, milk was strained and ran down outside into another strainer (kind of cloth) into the churn. By morning the milk was half thick cream; some of it was kept for butter and cheese, and skimmed off again. There was no water in the milk and it was graded on the bottles and dated on the tops. This was done twice a day.

I was friendly with my driver and his wife. They mad me most welcome and I went to the Baptist Church with them. I was asked to their house on Sundays and talked as one does and ended up being baptised on the last Sunday in 1945. They made arrangements with Revd Barnes. Years later, Les and I went to Weston for the day, our four year old daughter, Margaret got lost as usual and I found her at the end of the day playing with another little girl, Mary who was 8. Her parents were non other than my friends from the Cirencester farm. She was named after me, like a few others I helped out once.

I was de-mobbed in 1946 and I went back into service. A short time later I met my husband, Les, who was an R.A.F. friend of my brother鈥檚.

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