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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk — Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Molly Thornhill and has been added to the site with the author permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

These memories are taken from a special edition of a newsletter kindly submitted by Longstone Local History Group. It was edited by Liz Greenfield and published in Autumn 2002. Longstone was a village which sheltered evacuees and was comparatively unaffected by air attack, although the night sky was often lit by the fires of the Sheffield Blitz.

Longstone Local History Group - Molly Thornhill’s Story
by
Molly Thornhill.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Other parts to this story are at:

Introduction: A7887487

Roy Finney’s Story: A7887784

Frank, A and S Hurst: A7888396

Flames of Sheffield: A7888657

Tony Greenfield’s Story: A7889133

Martin Simon’s Story: A7889557

Stella Holmes’ Story: A7889971

Home defence remembered: A7890230

Burma servicemen Remembered: A7890492

Norman Hoare’s Story: A7891004

Norman Hassal’s Story: A7891202

Women’s Institute: A7891888

One family’s War Part One: A7892562

One Family’s War Part Two: A7893534

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I came to Great Longstone from South Wales in 1940 with my mother, to escape the blitz. My father could not come with us as he was an inspector in the police force, responsible for the special constables. He visited us from time to time, travelling by train or, when he could get some petrol, by car.

I had sinus problems and as there were no antibiotics then, I was often in bed with a fever, Getting up night after night to go to the air-raid shelter did not help. So the doctor advised my parents to get me away if they could, and my Uncle Frank, who lived at Hassop, found us accommodation in part of Beech House. I went to St Elphin's as a day girl and, later in the war, when the threat of invasion was over, to boarding school in Somerset.

My Uncle Frank was billeting officer at Hassop for the evacuees and when two coach loads of them arrived from Birmingham, my mother and I went to help, making sandwiches and looking after the children, while the billeting arrangements were sorted out. The boys were quickly taken, as all the farmers wanted them to help on their farms.

At the end of the day, we were left with two young mothers, each with a baby and a toddler. In desperation, my uncle phoned the agent at Chatsworth, who told him to bring them over and he'd see what they could do. So we set off by car in the dark with only very narrow slits of light from our headlights because of blackout restrictions. When we arrived, the housekeeper welcomed us and gave the evacuees a nice hot meal and put them in the orangery. The Duchess had got out some of Lady Ann's toys for the children to play with. When we called the next day for their forms, the mothers could not find their way back to their bedrooms! They were used to living in a terraced house with all amenities close by. They must have been overwhelmed by Chatsworth. I don't think they stayed very long.

Mr. and Mrs. Thornhill, who lived next door to us, reared a pig each year. After it was slaughtered, I imagine in the old slaughterhouse at the bottom of Moor Road, Mr. Dawson, the village butcher, came and salted it down in our cellar. I think he used brown sugar and saltpetre. The carcass was laid on benches which are still there today. At some stage it was hung up and when it was ready, Mr. Thornhill gave us some of the ham and bacon, and all the liver, which they didn't like.

As a young girl, I don't think I realised the seriousness of the war, but when someone I knew was killed in action, it brought home to me the gravity of the events.

I remember well the harvest time of the two summers I spent in Beech House. First there was haymaking, when I loved to be on the dray, helping to load it, and then the grain harvest. A lot of corn was grown on the farm. One year Mr. Thornhill even grew some corn on Scratter, in a field above Wardlow right on the top. I have a photograph of the field with the stooks waiting to be collected.

There was a wonderful camaraderie in those days; everyone came to help each other. Mr. Dawson came and helped us and we helped him get in his fields in turn. I was often sent to help Mrs. Thornhill (my future mother-in-law) to make the tea and bring it to the field where we were working. Mr. Thornhill always paid us young ones. I well remember, as they were the first wages I ever earned!

Pr-BR

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