大象传媒

The story I am about to tell is not so much about my life, but about a band of women who were seldom recognised, not always appreciated, and soon forgotten. Who were they? The Women's Land Army. Who, did you say? Yes, that is the reaction of most people.

Another year beginning, the war was still on. I didn't really have a happy home life. I had just been disappointed in love. You may think that at 16-and-a-half years old, I was a bit young to know about love, but we seemed to grow up faster during the war. Everyone seemed to be grasping happiness while they could.

The medical

I wanted to get away, and do my bit to help the war effort. I had always been a rather sickly child, and did not think I would pass a medical. Eventually, I decided to take a chance. I volunteered for the Women's Land Army. I had to take a medical by my own doctor. He knew my medical history, but thought it would be good for me.

My eyes, ears and heart were sound, so he passed me. In February 1942, I had to report to Preston. I received my uniform, which consisted of one hat, one overcoat, one pullover, two shirts, one overall, one pair of Wellingtons. All our underwear we had to buy ourselves. If anything was worn out or lost in under six months we had to pay for replacements. Some of us had to send a few shillings home. Myself, I used to send 15/= home. All this had to be done out of 22/6d wages. We had to go out to work in all kinds of weather. We worked from dawn until dusk. There was no such thing as overtime pay.

Working in Wales

The first place where I was stationed was in a hostel four miles outside Aberystwyth. I had never been away from home before, apart from being in hospital. Our train was late in arriving at Shrewsbury, so we missed our connection. We spent the night in a cold, miserable waiting room. We could not even get a warm drink. The next day, when I arrived at the hostel, I looked all around and all I could see were hills. I felt so trapped in.

After a hot meal and a bath I felt better. I was looking forward to the other girls returning. There were around 30 girls; six were from Lancashire, and all the rest were Welsh. We all got on quite well together. I had to learn to ride a bicycle. We were issued with heavy men's bikes. We started at the top of a hill, with someone holding on at the back. After a few minutes we were left on our own. I must say, after landing over the hedge a few times, I became more determined to master it.

Most people used to think that because we were in the country and working on farms we were having a really good time. This was not so, although I am not saying it was all bad. We enjoyed the village dances, and made quite a few friends.

Tough job

Some of the farmers thought we were there just to do all the dirty jobs that no-one else would do. I remember going to one place with another girl. The Lady of the Manor took us to a field about one-and-a-half acres. It was covered with weeds and thistles almost as tall as ourselves. We were told to clear it. We had no gloves to wear so you can imagine what our hands were like at the end of the day. Even our faces were scratched. She used to sit in her car at the far end of the field to watch us. If it rained and we went to shelter under a tree she would come round and make us go back.

Even at lunchtime we had to stand under a tree in the farmyard to eat our sandwiches, without a cup of tea. There was little point in complaining, but one day we decided we had had enough. The lady came to the hostel and asked us to go back, and we were supplied with a pair of gloves each, and cups of tea.

We also were haymaking in a field quite a distance from the farm. During our lunch break we wanted to visit the toilet. As it was too far to go back to the farm we had to go behind the bushes in the hillside so we would be out of sight of the men. Unfortunately, I sat over a rabbit-hole while the occupant was still inside. I don't know who was most frightened - me, or the rabbit. I know I was the one who was embarrassed, running down the hill with my trousers round my ankles.

Even though we were in the country we still felt the effects of the war. I remember working in a field near the coast. There was an unexploded landmine below us, so we had to be moved somewhere else.

Another time, we were working in a potato field. It was very warm work bending over, so we removed our shirts. We saw a lone plane coming towards us. At first he began to dive lower, and we thought it was some cheeky RAF man coming to get a closer look. The next minute we were running for our lives. It was a stray German plane returning home, and he decided to empty his machine-gun on us. I don't think I have ever run so fast, or cleared a hedge so quickly. Luckily, no-one was hurt, but it certainly gave us a scare.

I was in that hostel for six months and made many friends. The local policeman and his wife used to invite us into their home in the evening. I even ended up singing in the little village church.

Most of the time, we had to make our own amusement, but it was usually early to bed as the work was very tiring, and we discovered muscles we never knew we had.

Back in Lancashire

One week, we worked for a few days in violent thunderstorms. I became ill, and had about 35 boils come out on my back. When I was getting better, I was sent home for six weeks' sick leave. I was then sent to a hostel outside Warrington. There were about 600 munitions workers and just 26 Land Girls. Now that I was in my own area of Lancashire I thought that things would be much better, but farmers are the same, no matter where you are.

I was working on a threshing machine with four other girls. We used to move around to different farms. Some were good to us, but others used to treat us like slaves. They had no respect for either our age or sex. Sometimes we were given jam-jars to drink out of and we had nowhere to wash our hands before eating. I have shared many a meal with cows, cats and dogs.

I was not always easy to visit home. We were not allowed travelling warrants, as they said we were not in the services. We could not get cheap train fares, because we did not work on munitions, so we were not war workers. No-one seemed to know what we were, even though many girls were conscripted into the Land Army.

We wore the King's crown on our badge, and were proud of it. We could not go into the NAAFI canteens. The food in the hostel was not too bad, but we were given four slices of bread with some kind of paste on them, and, once a week, we had cheese. This was all we got to eat from 7am to six or 7pm, unless we were lucky to be near a shop, with a few pence to spare.

We did have one or two farmers who were very good to us, and gave us cake and sandwiches. Some of them would even give us a tip when we had finished the job. We depended on this very much for extra spending money, so we could go home for a weekend.

Some girls lived on farms. It was thought that they lived a good, happy, family life, but this was not always so. Some had nowhere proper to sleep, and were treated like skivvies by the farmer's wives, having to do housework as well as the farm work.

A man's job?

It took a long time for the farmers to realise we were quite capable of doing a man's job when we had to. We were the subject of many jokes. There was little point in complaining, as the officials could not visit everywhere to see what was going on. It was no joke, working at the top of a threshing machine. The smoke from the engine would blow in your face, making it look like you had just come down a chimney. It made your eyes very sore.

In the winter, when it was freezing and snowing, the only part of you that would get warm was your feet, if you were working on top of the machine, when the straw collected round your legs. The only drawback to this was the mice that you could feel running up and down your legs.

Other times, we had to carry large sacks of chaff and empty them, maybe having to climb a ladder to a loft. There really weren't any easy jobs. There were times when even the prisoners of war were treated better than us, both the Germans and the Italians.

I could not understand why some of the women's services looked down on us. We were doing as much, and sometimes more, for the war effort than they were.

When we had a bath after working on the thresher all day, you could not stay in for long as the top of the water was a floating mass of hay-lice, so we always had to finish off with a shower. Of course, not all the girls were so lucky - if they lived on a farm they had to be satisfied with a wash down in the farm kitchen. There was no privacy from the prying eyes of some lusty old farmer who thought you were there to satisfy their needs and give them what they were not getting from their wives.

I could go on for much longer, telling of all the things we had to put up with. I must also add that we had some very happy times and made many friends.

I hope this has explained why so many of us think we were not treated fairly.

When I was demobbed in 1945 I had to return all my uniform, even socks which had been darned. In return for my services, I was allowed to keep my overcoat, and was given ten clothing coupons.

I know it is not always possible to mention everyone who helped in the war. I was told that, if you were conscripted or volunteered to wear a uniform and the King's crown on your badge, you belonged to one of the services. We had discipline, rules and punishment, just the same as the ATS, WAAF and WRENS. We had to go where we were told.

For many years on Remembrance Sunday, we have not been asked to be represented. The question is, why not? Do we not deserve to be recognised with pride and honour? Why were we forgotten so easily after we were no longer needed? We were proud then to wear our uniform and serve our country.

Those of us who are left are still proud to have belonged to the Women's Land Army, and we will never forget.

Grace Wallace

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