大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Allan Price, of 大象传媒 Scotland, on behalf of Helen Pennie and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

At first 1939 was momentous for me only in that I moved from primary to secondary education, but there was much more to come. My father volunteered to join a quad of Aberdeenshire men to join the RE and was shipped off to France in 1940.

This was soon scuppered by Hitler and dad escaped through the port of Dieppe. After embarkation leave he left on a ship, SS Mohammed Ali El Kebir for parts unknown, was torpedoed 200 miles off the west coast, picked up from a raft by RN and brought to Greenock 鈥� thence to Kent to repair runways etc after the Battle of Britain in 1941.

To our delight he survived the war. Meanwhile, life at home was fairly routine. Rationing was a bugbear but living in the country we never went hungry although I longed for milk chocolate and bananas!

A family of evacuees from Glasgow was billeted on us, as were many more all over the town, but most of them soon left as the evacuees hated Turriff 鈥� it was so boring after the city scene. However, it is worth nothing that a few stayed on through the war and after and some are still in Turriff today.

After Dunkirk hundreds of thousands of troops were encamped on various estates around us. British, Norwegian, Free French etc, even Lord Haw Haw mentioned this in one of his infamous broadcasts which were enjoyed by one and all, as an entertainment! King Haakon of Norway, General de Gaulle and Marshal Tito came to review their troops, but for a teenage girl this was not so noteworthy as the fact that we children could not get near our one and only chip shop.

The Norwegian troops did sterling service during a very hard winter in 1941/42. The country roads were often blocked but this time the main road and rail line from Aberdeen were impassable. No mail, no newspapers, or other supplies could get through and the local chemists, were running out of drugs. The 鈥淣orgies鈥�, as we called them, buckled on their cross country skis and travelled to the harbour at Macduff 鈥� eleven miles away 鈥� saving the day for us.

So I passed through secondary school and was accepted for University, but not before the wartime experience I recall most vividly 鈥� my 6 weeks on a flax machine.

The government decided that flax could be grown in the north east of Scotland so a factory was built in Turriff and a Belgian Sergeant sent to take charge and train workers. Flax was needed for two things 鈥� thread from the stalks which was so strong they cannot be cut with a knife 鈥� and linseed oil from the seeds.

Harvesting the flax became a problem because the huge machines which pulled the flax through rubber belts could not cope with heavy Aberdeenshire soil. The problem was solved by mounting two metal seals for and aft of the belts so that with the help of strong forked branches the flax could be pulled through by schoolgirls. The machine was pulled by a tractor with a power-drive which today would have been banned by health and safety.

A school pal called Andrina and I, kitted out in boiler suits (with an awkard back flap for the obvious purpose), and small boots ex army, set off with our driver Robbie with the tractor 鈥� an old Fordie 鈥� the machine and a huge bogey carrying 500 gallons of paraffin.

Robbie had a little car and went to his wife every night but we stayed on the farm for one or two nights until the job was done.

Now there was a problem when we moved 鈥� Robbie鈥檚 car. He decided that I could drive the machinery from farm to farm on the premise that my grandfather owned lorries, tractors etc so I would have inherited driving skills. Alas not so!

One day I was moving through Main Street, Turriff, when I passed my mother out shopping. She nearly dropped her basket! I daren鈥檛 stop so she ran alongside firing questions. I didn鈥檛 know how to start again if I stopped. I was seventeen, had no driving license, filled the road from side to side but fortunately traffic was minimal and I made it each time (driving at 10 miles an hour).

We were put up in farm houses which ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. One had a beautiful sun lounge where we ate and sat with a most comfortable bedroom upstairs. Another had no toilet facilities, indoor or out. 鈥淚 just go to the byre鈥� said the housekeeper 鈥� 鈥渢he men don鈥檛 go there very much鈥�. We told Robbie to get through quickly and worked till dark so we could move on.

Many of the farms had Italian POWs helping out with the harvest. They were completely unguarded and posed no threat. They longed to be home.

In the midst of this VE Day came in 1945 with great jubilation and jolly dance in a huge garage in the town with lights blazing and no warden to complain.

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