- Contributed by听
- The CSV Action Desk at 大象传媒 Wiltshire
- People in story:听
- Joan Weaver
- Location of story:听
- Lacock, Wiltshire
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A8340293
- Contributed on:听
- 07 January 2006
At the beginning of the war a battery of the Royal Horse Artillery at Trowbridge barracks sold their horses. We bought two, Landlady and Lucy, for light farm work, riding and driving in the governor鈥檚 cart or trap. Landlady had a 鈥榗old back鈥, which meant warming the saddle before mounting or she would lie down in protest! She did not forget her army training and when free of harness in a field at haymaking time she walked beside the working horse turning at exactly the same time without any word of command. We often collected three GIs in the governor鈥檚 cart Monty, Red and Hank. They liked to help and seemed to enjoy the home cooking. Quite a number of soldiers from Hudswell and sailors from Royal Arthur in Corsham also came to help when they had time off. Once there were five majors on the rick at one time. As the danger from U-boats increased and supplies from overseas became scarce the War Agricultural Committee asked farmers to plough more land, the growing corn and potatoes not always popular with some. My father knew this as he was on the local committee. One day a German bomber flew low over the farm and with a machine gun fired at my father who dived behind hayrick. Luckily they missed - they were probably looking for Thingley ammunition sidings nearby. Apart from a bomb dropped in the middle of the field doing no damage, we were lucky to escape further visits from enemy aircraft. Lacock village hall was a canteen for the service men and women stationed nearby. It was called then the Odd Fellows Hall. We served beans on toast, poached eggs (when available) and cups of tea and sometimes put on a very amateurish show. This was where I first met Frank Wood, the war artist for the RAF. He was stationed at Melksham and sometimes came to the canteen or to the farm on his bicycle. Twice a week I cycled to Corsham for lectures on first aid and chemical warfare. Searchlights overhead helped my almost blacked-out bicycle lamp. A New Zealander fighter pilot flew his Spitfire low over the Lacock vicarage and dropped some chocolate for the vicar's daughter with a note saying 鈥渢hy need is greater than mine, love Jimmy.鈥 He was reported and reprimanded. He later married and went to live in New Zealand. For the VE and VJ celebration parades I wobbled along the High Street wearing bloomers, a cape, laced boots and my brothers boater!
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