大象传媒

Transcribed from an interview with Dorothy Russell by a Member of Medway Library staff held at Gillingham Library (Kent) on 7th. July, 2005

When war broke out

I was twenty-one and living in Sittingbourne when war broke out. My name then was Dorothy Wheeler, and I worked as a cashier in the Co-op grocer鈥檚 shop.

There was rationing but as I dealt with the cash I don鈥檛 remember much about the ration books. At home we still had ordinary meals because my father grew all our own vegetables on his allotment. I wasn鈥檛 married then so I didn鈥檛 have to queue for food. Anyway, as I worked in a grocer鈥檚 shop I could bring any shopping home with me.

Whilst I was working at the grocer shop, I had to ask for a day off so that I could get married. I said to the manager, 鈥淐ould I have Monday off?鈥� and he said, 鈥淲hat for?鈥� When I said I was getting married he said, 鈥淲e don鈥檛 have married women鈥�. My friend was going for an interview to work on the buses, so I went with her to Maidstone and got a job working on the buses in the Sittingbourne Depot.

On the buses

Today's buses are nothing like the buses were then. They were all double-deckers, and open at the bottom. There weren鈥檛 any doors, so if you fell down the stairs you fell out of the back. When we drove along the Gravesend road, you had to be very careful of the ice on the stairs when it had been snowing. If you slipped and fell, you could fall right out of the bus into the road. That did happen, and of course we had no lights, only a tiny torch.

I used to walk a couple of miles to work to clock on at five. I couldn鈥檛 bike, as you couldn鈥檛 see the kerb when it was foggy. We used to have big thick fogs then. I was only twenty one and I had to walk to work in the fog, early in the morning from one end of the town to the other. One morning I got there at ten past five so I was sent home because I hadn鈥檛 clocked on at five. I lost my pay that day.

When Ken, (my husband to be,) came on leave, he used sit at the back of the bus. I kept on giving him tickets, and pay his fare. He used to get leave for a week and I had to keep working, for perhaps ten hours a day. But one thing I will say about the soldiers. If I was on the late bus up to Gravesend and back with them at night, the last bus used to get in about half past ten. The inspector used to say to the driver and me, 鈥渨ould you be able to oblige me, there are a lot of soldiers that had come in from the country鈥�, (they were all billeted in the country,) 鈥渢hey鈥檝e been for a drink so would you take them back?鈥� And after a day鈥檚 work! But we used to do it, and although they鈥檇 been drinking you know I can honestly say that we never had any bother from them. Although they were cheeky, they never touched us, we never had that sort of bother with them, not like we would now, on the road, in the dark, with no lights.

I only used to get two pound odd, not much money. It鈥檚 a different world now. When people moan about their work now, they say, 鈥渙h, that鈥檚 a long time ago, forget about that鈥�. But those were the best years of my life, when I was twenty-one.

War Work

I worked on the buses for half the war and the other half I worked in a factory in London. When I got married, my husband was stationed in London. I went up there and I worked in a factory on Oxford Street opposite Selfridges. I was in the Inspection Department, inspecting everything that came off the machines.

The first job I had, we had a lot of rejects come back, and they were for things like flame throwers. Well, they did everything there, such as capstons. Once I had two great big boxes come back, with screws in. I鈥檒l never forget this, every screw had to have ten measurements done to it before it left the factory. Ten measurements on a great big blueprint, I didn鈥檛 even know what a blueprint was; I鈥檇 never seen one before in my life!

As I was used to figures, they gave me a test when I went there, you see. I thought, I could never do one of those machines! But they saw I was good at figures, and they put me in the inspection department. And every screw had to be measured. If it was a thousandth of an inch out, it was rejected and you stopped the machine straight away. Mind you, each girl was on piecework, and if she鈥檇 got a boxful back, she didn鈥檛 half use some language! Because she鈥檇 lose all her earnings on that if they had to go back. A thousandth of an inch out!

You had to work from eight 鈥榯ill eight. I used to catch the train at Victoria at seven to go to Oxford Street, clock on at eight, clock off at eight at night, get home at nine, I鈥檇 done fourteen hours. I left home at seven, and got home at nine.

You were on the go all day. Each inspector had three machines to care for, all doing different things and every time the siren went, everything had to be stopped. I don鈥檛 think there was an air raid shelter at the factory we just used to go down the stairs. Before the war the factory used to make baths, all that kind of thing, but they brought all these different machines in. I worked there until the end of the war.

Air Raids

Sometimes there was an air raid as I was going to work in the morning. In Victoria station, the siren would often go off, and the men in the station there would make you lie down on the floor of the station, with all your clothes on until it went over.

I was living at Victoria when the doodlebugs came over. You could hear them coming. One day we were going to get the train because my husband was on leave. It was lunchtime when this doodlebug came over, so we stood in the hallway waiting, and all of a sudden, it fell nearby with an almighty blast; every window in that road went, and the noise! When we looked, we鈥檇 stood under all the gas meters for the house. We thought we were safe, and there were all the meters over our head! It was very scary.

Family in uniform

I don鈥檛 think we talked about whether we would win or lose the war, or how long it was going to go on for. It was rather traumatic; I had brothers in the army and brothers-in-law. My husband joined the Buffs at Canterbury and at first he was sent to Devon for some time training. I think he was on what you called number one guns; he used to lie down and feed the guns. When the time came for them to go abroad, he passed all his things but failed his medical because of his ears, the vibration from putting those things in. They sent him back to Canterbury and then to Baker Street, in London. I wasn鈥檛 married to him then.

I didn鈥檛 know a lot about what he did then, but he did tell me before he died, years after the war ended. He was a sergeant and he was locked in a room and if we hasd, say an officer that was to be dropped abroad to gather information; he had to equip them. Everything that officer had on them had to be supplied beforhand. That was only a small part of it. He used to go out and get information. It was all secret.

I鈥檝e got a picture I took of him when he was made up to sergeant. I think it was taken at Baker Street. He was allowed to live at home and that鈥檚 why I went there to live so I was able to see him during the war. The funny thing was that he had worried me before the war to get married, but he was older than me by about seven and a half years and I was just beginning to enjoy myself! I had two brothers, one each side of me, and we used to go dancing, swimming, and skating. One brother got killed in Holland. I鈥檝e got a photograph of him with his girlfriend. He was dressed ready to go out of an evening, when he was about seventeen or eighteen 鈥� can you imagine our boys looking like that then? It was taken just before he joined up in the Grenadier Guards. It broke my mother鈥檚 heart when he got killed.

My other brother was in the Grenadier Guards. He was sent to Burma. He was just a boy when he went and when he came back there were no jobs, everything was bombed. He got married and had a boy and he only had two rooms and a boy鈥檚 job. He was so disgusted with England he took the ten pounds and went to Australia. He鈥檚 dead now, but we keep in touch with his son. We lost all those nice boys.

A wartime wedding

Well, I wasn鈥檛 ready to get married, and there were several boys I liked, but of course the ones I used to dance with, they were all captured at the beginning of the war and were prisoners of war. All there was to dance with was married men and schoolboys! All my agegroup had gone! My friend worked with my husband-to-be at the same shop he did. He wasn鈥檛 called up at first because he was a bit older, and he kept on saying to her, 鈥淥h, make a date with your friend鈥�, and he kept on wanting to get engaged and get married. Anyway, he kept on and on; so in the end I said, 鈥淲hen you come back, we鈥檒l think about it鈥�. Well 鈥� I didn鈥檛 know that he was going to fail his medical; I thought he was going to be abroad for a couple of years. So a letter came back on the return post, saying he wasn鈥檛 going abroard, he鈥檇 be over on leave in a fortnights鈥� time. So I had a fortnight to arrange a marriage 鈥� I got the wedding dress, booked the church, saw the vicar, (he got me the special licence,) and within a fortnight I was married!

When my friend went an interview for the buses, and I went with her and also got a job; we had passed Cheeseman鈥檚 which used to be in Maidstone. I thought to myself -I鈥檒l go and get myself a new skirt or dress if I鈥檓 getting married, so we went in there and got my dress, which cost me nineteen and eleven! I鈥檝e still got the receipt for it. The Yours magazine had a competition some while ago. I had sent them a picture of me at my white wedding, just out of interest. They asked me if they could keep it for a competition and there I am, in it. The magazine went all over the world.

I paid twelve and six for my flowers I ordered from a shop on the way back to Sittingbourne and I ordered a cake from the Co-op. I got married in the church with all the bells ringing; white wedding with four bridesmaids, two in pink, two in blue. We did up some dance dresses for them and they all had a posy; five bob each. We had the wedding in church because we knew the vicar. Of course people knew their vicars more then; we used to go to the church a lot. My brother who was killed was stationed in London at the time, doing duty outside Buckingham Palace. He was our best man. It took less than a fortnight to arrange though I still worked every day up until the wedding took place in March 1941 and cost me ten pounds. I never had much money. Our marriage lasted for fifty odd years. We celebrated our golden wedding anniversary.

A surprise for the bridegroom

I was so busy with all this, and on the Wednesday I met my friend from up the road, we used to meet at lunchtimes and walk home on some occasions, and I met her on the Wednesday, and she said, 鈥淲hat did Ken say when you rang and told him you鈥檇 done all this?鈥� And I said 鈥淥h!鈥� I hadn鈥檛 told him! He didn鈥檛 know he was getting married! I said, he keeps asking me, but I hadn鈥檛 told him! So I went home Wednesday night and wrote him a letter, posted it Thursday morning on my way to work, he got it Friday, gave this letter to his officer and all that, travelled over on the Saturday, and was married on the Sunday!! And he went back on the Tuesday.

His mother and sisters didn鈥檛 even know, they鈥檇 been evacuated from Margate and Westgate up north. I didn鈥檛 have time to tell them; I鈥檇 hardly had time to tell him! It had worried me so much getting married, getting everything else ready! Our honeymoon was spent down at Westgate for the night. We went back with one of his sisters who had come up from there for the wedding.

Home life

As my husband was stationed in London, I left the buses and moved up there. We lived in Pimlico at first; right near the water. He found two rooms, because he could live out. They said that the only way I could go was to work on the buses up there. So I went for an interview at Chiswick. I鈥檇 just started wearing glasses, so they said I couldn鈥檛 work on the buses up there, so they sent me to the factory. So I spent half the war on the buses, and half in the factory.

I鈥檇 never been in a factory in my life, coming from the country. It was all quite an experience but I coped all right. I used to walk down to the station to travel to the factory they had sent me to. It was hard work and you went all day. I didn鈥檛 have any spare time to go dancing. On my days off, Saturday and Sunday, I had to do the housework. We only had two rooms, and the sink was on the landing. We had to share the toilet and everything like that. By the time you鈥檇 done all that, there was no time for anything else 鈥� the war was on anyway, what with all the buzz bombs coming over while I was up there.

Visiting home

When I could, I鈥檇 come down to Sittingbourne to see my mother, because I was the last one left at home. We were a big family, eight of us, and then everybody was gone away, which broke her heart. Then my brother who was in the Grenadier Guards got killed at Arnhem. He was in a tank regiment when he was killed on 5th November 1944 and the war finished just after that.

We hadn鈥檛 heard from my other brother who had been in Burma for three years, and he hadn鈥檛 heard from us. We were celebrating the end of the war, and he didn鈥檛 even know it had finished. He wasn鈥檛 a prisoner of war; they had a very bad time. He said that one bloke, who was helping the prisoners catch the boat home, said that the Japanese waited until the boat was on the horizon, and then blew it up. He was so bitter with England when he came home. The soldiers were promised, that, if they went, they鈥檇 have jobs and houses when they returned. And what did he have? Two rooms, and a boy鈥檚 job. (He was twenty-eight at the time.) He was disgusted, so he went to Australia on ten pounds and never came home.

My mother died of a broken heart while he was on the boat going over. She had eight children and nobody left. The nurse said to me, 鈥渢here鈥檚 nothing wrong with your mother,鈥� and then she just died. She was only sixty-five, no age at all, - one minute she had a house full of happy people, and then nobody at all.

Life after the war

We heard on the radio that the war had ended. We had friends in, they all rushed home, so excited. I think there was a street party but I was working. It鈥檚 so long ago. We still had to wait until they came out of the army.
And then of course the men wanted their jobs back.

The war finished in 1945 and I had my son, in February 1946 when I was twenty eight. I brought him up for four years in two rooms, in London. Not like the houses they鈥檝e got now! But he turned out all right. He鈥檚 a lovely man.

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