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WW2 People’s War
Railways in Wartime, Weekend Leave and D-Day
The outbreak of war in1939 found Britain with the Victorian railway system intact.
Many valleys in Northern England (and probably in other industrial areas) had 2 railway routes running through each valley, those of the L.M.S. and the L.N.E.R. Little towns, some no more than villages whose names were in the Domesday Book, had two stations on different lines. It was easy to get around. It was even possible to ask for the request of an otherwise unscheduled stop, from the guard, before boarding, on some journeys.

There was also an extensive bus system, and enough road transport, but much quieter than to-day.
Petrol was soon rationed by the Government; this reduced road transport even further, but we still had plenty of horses and carts, delivering goods to the doors.

So from 1939 onwards the trains took the strain. Railways were used to their full capacity.

The Government ruled that goods trains and some special trains (e.g. for troop movements) were to have priority, and innumerable passenger trains were held up at junctions and outside mainline stations, full of servicemen and women, itching to get home for a weekend pass or a spell of leave, fretting for many long minutes, (up to 45 was not uncommon), as they realised that the slow moving, passing goods trains were resulting in the missing of their connections. There were occasions when such delays meant that I had to walk 3 miles on the lonely road over Dewsbury Moor, home, after midnight. I hadn’t the money for a taxi even had I known where to find one at that hour.
Moreover manpower was reduced on the railways, a shortage of staff due to recruitment, so ticket inspection was simplified; many stations were declared ‘open stations’ barriers were no longer barriers, tickets were checked on some but not all trains.

Getting on to some trains was a nightmare. Passengers, all in uniform, would hurl themselves off one train as it slowed down and head for another one, at speed. It was a case of ‘may the Devil take the hindmost’. Inevitably the train would be full to the gunnels, with men on occasion hurling themselves in through the carriage’s open windows, and if the seats were already full, they would climb on to the luggage rack. One New Year’s Eve I waited on York Station for the overnight train to Scotland and, not being a pushy type, was almost left ‘the hindemost’. I am always reminded of this when I see Japanese trains being loaded, on the T.V. These overnight trains had their lights dimmed very low and with blackout blinds pulled down over the windows. Some unlucky passengers, with their luggage, blocked the corridors, and if you did manage to get as far as the toilet you might find a card school taking place in there.

At the beginning of June 1944 I was a 20 year old member of the Womens Royal Air Force stationed at a Maintenance Unit in Shropshire. The adjacent R.A.F. Fighter Station, at Ternhill had an extremely long runway sufficient for bombers to land. Hence the siting there of the M.U. I was a pay accounts clerk, my rank was Leading Aircraft Woman, but there were additional duties to be carried out from time to time i.e. Duty Clerk, and Booking Out (and in) Clerk in the guardroom. I was not at all pleased to find out that I was to be Booking Out Clerk on the coming Friday night. When work ended on Fridays the gates opened and hordes of bikes exited, at speed, carrying practically all the fitters, mechanics, electricians etc., clerical staff, cooks and bottlewashers on the camp to weekend freedom, leaving only a skeleton staff behind. I usually was one of the departing. Nobody in their right mind would choose to spend the weekend on camp if they could help it. This weekend because I was Booking out clerk I couldn’t avoid it.
However, there was a surprise in store. I was called to the guard room on Thursday evening. A W.A.A.F. deserter had been apprehended and was to be brought to the unit. She was to stay the Friday night. Would I look after her? It would mean staying with her in a spare building until the following morning. She would be in my care, though nobody informed me what should be done if she should attempt to escape. It was not something I felt I could refuse, especially since I was offered a 72 hour pass.
Not without some feeling of trepidation, I reported for guard duty after 6.30 the following evening, met the scruffy looking prisoner; she was smaller, thinner and older than I. We were shown into a gloomy dark room in a separate wooden building. The solitary light bulb struggled to illuminate the place. An attempt had been made to light the centrally positioned black stove. There were two beds, with the usual dismal, shoddy blankets. I was given the keys and locked us in.
It was boringly depressing. We didn’t talk much. My conversational skills didn’t extend to entertaining prisoners. She was very subdued, but about 10 past 8 she said she would like to wash her hair, hadn’t washed it for ages. I thought about it. No mobile phones in those days. Took her up to the guardroom, explained. Received permission to wash her hair in the ablutions. Rubbed it well with her towel. Wondered if she’d got nits? Then back to the ‘dungeon’.
It was a pretty miserable night. The stove went out. I decided to sleep in my clothes in case of emergencies. In spite of the blankets I was cold. Sleep was fitful. I was glad when morning came and I was relieved from my duties.

My journey home was uneventful, I slept in the local train to Crewe. I seem to remember the sun shining. The weekend passed uneventfully. I didn’t need to go back until Monday.
On the return journey I caught my connection in Stockport all right but arrived in Crewe
only to see my train, the last train for the evening for Ternhill, departing from its bay. What to do? Crewe was a closed station. I didn’t have a ticket for that part of the journey. The pay received by the lower ranks in the Services didn’t run to regular weekend travel on the railways. We all had a variety of ways of dealing with this but now I was high and dry. Here I was stranded on Crewe station at 8.30 p.m. on 7th June 1944. It was going to be another long, long night. The wooden benches were not conducive to sleep; fortunately there was an all night canteen open on one of the platforms.

Even the longest night passes and at around 6a.m. I caught the first train out to Ternhill and then the waiting bus that served the camp. It was a lovely morning the bright sun catching the grass verges. As we neared the camp the driver switched on the bus radio. We heard the 8 o’clock news announcing that our troops had landed in Europe. It was D-Day.

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