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War Work at Bakelite

This is the last story in a series of six short stories written by my father, AEG Allsop. He was born in Cromford, Derbyshire in 1918.

It seems so unreal that within a few days of being discharged from the Army, medically unfit, having no income and joining the unemployed that the Labour Exchange were forcing me to find work. Of course I had had to sign on and was in receipt of a few shillings benefit. We were now into the fourth year of the war; all men and women were liable to be directed into the forces, the mines, the many factories producing war materials or on to the farms.

There were, however, individuals who had until now avoided conscription, their employers claiming that they were engaged on essential work. It was the duty of the Labour Exchange to dislodge such people. To put it boldly I was to be exchanged body for body !

I was directed to attend interviews at various business premises in the Matlock area. Of course they did not want me, and naturally I was not overly cooperative. Failing to place me I was now threatened with loss of benefit. I could so easily have affected continued ill health as Dad advised me to do, but Anna and I were so desperate to be together somehow. Fortunately there was a place on offer at a factory in Darley Dale operated by ‘Bakelite’.

Because of the heavy bombing of our great cities, an order had been made that vulnerable industries should open factories faraway in the country - in fact a dispersal order. Bakelite of Birmingham was such a one. They were unique in producing a resin-like powder that, mixed with various inert materials, could, under heat and pressure be moulded into an enormous range of articles of which the telephone handset is probably the best known. Also Bakelite fabricated, from a synthetic varnish and cotton cloth or paper, panelling with great strength and insulation properties, on which electrical circuits could be assembled.

The staffing of the laboratory was cut to the absolute limit. Mr Jackson, chief chemist, was on secondment from Birmingham; a partially crippled cheerfully efficient man. He was allowed just three assistants, one of each to oversee the production operating round the clock from Sunday morning to Saturday afternoon when necessary maintenance could be put in hand. Of the three men, firstly N..., a red-haired, aggressive man who had lost a leg at Dunkirk. Then F... a small middled aged chap with limited use of his fingers, but somehow able to knock a tune out of a pub piano in return for free pints. He also suffered from severe indigestion, consuming massive amounts of bicarbonate of soda. When full of ale he would disappear to the lavatories, there to empty himself, in order that he could make the most of the largesse. Lastly, W..., a forty year old, also suffering from a bad stomach which in his case was probably caused by the irregular hours and worrying about his little shop in Matlock which he was struggling to keep alive without much help. A bonny bunch ! This must surely illustrate what the demands of the war effort were inflicting on the civil population. Now there was me !

Once trained I was to take over W...'s shift as his absences from work were hard to cover. The management did not see fit to warn me that this was their intention.

We were dealing with dangerous and inflammable materials delivered by the tankerload. Phenol, Cresol, Formaldehyde, Industrial Meths - all had to be dip-sampled and subjected to a series of tests which included specific gravity, viscosity, freezing point, etc. All possible in a surprisingly short period of time as no load could be pumped over to our storage vessels until a certificate was available.

Possibly six months elapsed before I was adjudged able to take over a shift. I started with Frank for my first week, on nights, of course. I did not relish the hours but it did bring a raise in pay to N...'s annoyance as he considered that I should have to serve longer before being raised to his pay.

Part of our work was inspecting paper and cotton cloth basic to the production of the plastic board. This material was delivered in huge rolls, several feet high - they stood in ranks like soldiers on parade. To take satisfactory samples, because the deliveries frequently got dirty in transit, we had to unroll at least two complete laps. A real perk was a large sheet of fine cotton cloth, unobtainable in the shops from which pillowcases or even a shirt might be fashioned. (Much sort after at this time was parachute silk) Some of the rolls were of asbestos paper and cloth. We tested all for weight, stitches to the inch and, where appropriate, pH values.

It did not take F... long to consider that I could be left to carry on by myself. He made some excuse for going into the works to see some of the other chaps, but as he had been gone a long time I strolled into the warehouse, an area I knew little about. Guess what? There was F... kipped down behind the bales and well away.

The process we were superintending was the mixing of formaldehyde with phenol which when heated formed a "gorm" which gradually stiffened to form a solid. The process was carried out in "stills" or "kettles", vessels totally enclosed in steamheated jackets maintained at a high pressure. The largest was operated by T.. from the Birmingham works whose motto was "I'm good I am", a man with great self-confidence. He was in lodgings in Hooley Town, Darley Dale. The smaller still was operated by H... who also lived on Hooley estate.

Although the factory had an ambulance man, he was on 'days' so our lab became the first port of call for small cuts and bruises; at least we had plenty of clean water and disinfectant. The hours particularly at night dragged so it was a welcome diversion when someone dropped in for attention and perhaps lingered for a chat. Conversation was mostly of domestic troubles, rationing of food and the blackout which was all pervasive. I got to know H... and T... quite well.

One bonus I treasure - we could, on a clear night, see the stars - no extraneous light to rob us of this wonder. Often we would hear and see our bombers massing for yet another raid over Germany. They passed as black silhouettes against the starry sky.

At last Anna and I were able to name the day halfway through December when we could be married. But fate intervened. On a Sunday morning I turned up for work as usual only to find water pouring through the ceiling, presumably the watertank was mal-functioning. I found a ladder, climbed up, stepped out on to the floor and fell through in a cloud of dust ! The 'floor' was only constructed from laths and cardboard! I hurt my foot and so was off work walking with a stick in receipt of a little compensation for industrial accident. A bonus in a way as I was now able to take more time off than had been agreed for the coming wedding. Not so bad after all.

Since starting on shifts, Mother had insisted on cooking breakfast for me when I was on the six o'clock start. I had to be up at 4.30am in order to cycle the several miles in all sorts of weather to be in time to take over from the night man in an orderly manner.

Now Anna was to look after me this was the situation that she had to come to terms with. That first winter was a severe trial, boarding with my parents, no bathroom, the lavatory outside in the back yard. I scarcely understood what was happening as I was working. The evening shift was the worst for Anna, the total black-out, only one room with a fire and only my folks for company until I came in at 10.30pm.

Happily by Easter, when we had wondered if ever we could have a home of our own (although after all it was only a few months) a house came to rent in Matlock Bath. We were deliriously happy with all the excitement of making a home. We literally had nothing to put in it. Practically everything was bought second-hand, much from Dad's shop. As newly-weds we qualified for points to set up home, but the entire allocation only allowed us to buy new a utility sideboard and a few grey blankets !

To return to work. F... was offered a place in the Birmingham factory leaving wife and son living in Smedley Street. He accepted and continued in Brum until the war finally ended. Presumably the Employment Exchange was unable to find a suitable man and so we took on female labour. It was realised that there would have to be two girls as the only other female nearby was the manager's wife who lived in a little cottage at the factory gates. P..., a vivacious blonde, lived in Matlock. L..., the other girl, was a small, slight, rather quiet lass lodging with P.... After the initial training they took over F...'s shift, again to N...'s annoyance as he considered that they each could only be doing half the work.

A great deal of the output of the works was Bakelite board. To this end the rolls of paper or cloth were cut into long strips thirty six and fifty four inches wide and passed through a dip tank of varnish produced in the factory. Stoved in a heated oven the prepared sheet was now cut into suitable lengths by guillotine. Small stacks of these sheets were built up by women workers carefully calculated in number to give boards of known thickness. These stacks were then heated under great pressure. The newly pressed boards had rough edges and needed trimming at the sawbench. (Fred the sawyer happened to be the Union Representative.) These trimmings were much prized as firelighters. I took very many home and the chimney smoke had a very distinctive smell.

The newly built boards had to undergo tests. Thickness was most important, the degree of tolerance surprisingly tight. Any work destined for the Admiralty was supervised by one of their inspectors. The actual measuring was done by a rather fat, unpleasant character, who had a little business locally. To bolster his pay he was the bookie's runner - even in wartime betting on horses carried on. He was also not averse to a little black marketing.

Two further tests; one for mechanical strength involved preparing a specimen of carefully calculated width and thickness and then exerting an immense stretching power on it until it finally snapped; another was to mount a specimen between two small towers as in a bridge and exerting great loading until the specimen snapped.

Perhaps the most intriguing was for insulation properties. A specimen was floated on a pool of mercury some thirty inches in diameter. A high voltage charge was generated producing suddenly a small flash of lightning. This test was conducted in a steel-wired cage to protect the operator. With present safety measures no worker would be permitted to handle quantities of mercury such as this in an open atmosphere. It was part of our work to clean it. Fascinating to be able to filter a metal, liquid at normal temperature, and then to carefully remove the dust that had settled on it by wiping with a filter paper.

During a period leading up to Christmas one of the chaps was making wooden toys. Could I help by making a yellowish varnish so popular at the time ? Yes, with a little Potassium Chromate stirred in, a satisfactory result was obtained. Life in the lab always tended to be light-hearted. On two or three occasions I produced a violent explosion - in very small quantities I may add. By dissolving iodine crystals in ammonia, which dried very quickly, ammonium iodide formed, so sensitive we were told, it needed only a fly to stamp on it to blow itself to pieces. We were never able to test this but sprinkled on the floor it caused a deal of amusement. I put some down on an iron manhole cover. One of the fitters walked on it and convinced that the manhole carried an electric charge, hopped up on to a bench until being rescued some considerable time later.

An odd little tale which I had to believe. H... and I were enjoying a chat and a cuppa when the former who was idly pulling on his earlobe exclaimed "Ay up, look at this". A very small stub of pencil lay on the table. H..., a man quite well in his thirties said that this foreign body had been lodged in his ear since he pushed it there when a small child. Afraid to tell anyone about the little accident he had eventually forgotten about it. Not surprisingly he was rather deaf.

I hope it was not because H... was sitting gossiping that the process he was managing overreacted and the mix within the still had gone solid! This involved the lid of the kettle being lifted off when cool and the frothy solid mess being scraped and chipped out. This took about three days. H..., feeling of course that he was responsible, worked many hours to clear the mess. The management were not overly critical; such an event happened occasionally. Their main concern was the loss of three days production.

It was not directly connected with this unhappy episode that H... took me up on to the top of his still. The machine rumbled away beneath us, the giant paddle within the machine imparting a swaying motion to the entire structure. It was here, surrounded by pipes that formed a sort of nest that gently rocked that H... settled down to snatch an hour's sleep.

How B... and L... managed to keep going I don't know. They earned a great deal of admiration in that as far as I am aware they were never late for work. Three miles each way out of Matlock sometimes in the most appalling weather, arriving soaked to the skin. There was no transport; cars were a rarity, no petrol to put in them if anyone possessed one, so no lifts.

One morning, cycling home from the early shift a thunderous noise overtook me. The sky was filled with huge bombers, many towing gliders. Long before it was announced on the radio I knew I was witnessing a part of the great invasion force which was crossing the Channel into France. This was the beginning of the end, but that end was many months away.

For us time passed quickly enough, happy to be building up our home, but we could not have it all our own way. The Employment Exchange had been alerted to the fact that Anna, too, was available for work. As she had been a St. Johns Ambulance nurse they sought to find something suitable. Suitable was scarcely the word I would describe their selection. She was to do duty at the old Florence Nightingale home at Lea (now a nursing home) for ancient women of Roman Catholic persuasion who were in the care of a priest. And so as I was cycling towards Darley Dale, Anna was going in the opposite direction. The wretched home even expected us to provide the uniform until I visited the Exchange myself, complained, and so the home had to agree to provide the necessary coveralls. I suppose we were glad of the little extra cash going into the kitty.

Time passes. We had been married almost two years and Anna was expecting. Dr Dobson suggested that it might be possible for the baby to be born in Willersley Castle which during the emergency had become a maternity hospital mainly for mothers bombed out of their homes in London. For a few pounds this could be arranged which we gladly accepted.

Coincidentally, our friend T... reappears in this story. Of course we all knew of his liaison with the lady on Hooley Estate so that we were not too surprised when we learned that T...'s wife had taken a train into Matlock, visited the rival and suitably marked the occasion by smashing all her windows. The unhappy mistress was also awaiting an important event in her life. She was delivered of twins. T...'s motto could now be revised from "I'm good I am" to read "I'm too good I am"!

We now had little Marian, a lovely baby, a war-baby, just as I was a war baby back in 1918.

The war did end and our little factory was to close. I was offered work in Birmingham, but such a move could not be contemplated. How could we leave our home for an uncertain future in a huge bomb-damaged city ? It was with a degree of sadness that finally we left the factory, everything that was of value packed into crates, all that remained was to shake hands and call "cheerio mate".

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