大象传媒

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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Phil Sealey of the Somerset County Museum Team on behalf of Fred Lyall and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions

鈥淚t was about this time that I started going on the milk round with Fred Mead. Fred ran a farm with his brother Jim. One of the things that I looked forward to when out with Fred was meeting with the baker, usually in Meare Green. We always bought a lardy cake for our lunch. I think Fred was a bit of a ladies man, as he would quite often have long chats with them. Another stop was at the Railway pub in Curload for some liquid refreshment, I of course had milk. Fred had two ponies for the milk float, one of them was named Kid, he was a bit vicious and I had to be careful when passing in front of him, as he would snap at me. Topsy, the other pony was very gentle and when it was very cold I would warm my hands on her hot breath. A third stop that was a favourite was by the river Parrett at Staithe, there was a medlar tree in the garden, the fruit I found to be very tasty, not as stated in my dictionary (fruit eaten when decayed).
Afternoons on the farm were spent cutting up mangoldwurzels for the cows鈥� feed in the wintertime .We also cleaned the cows鈥� stalls after milking. This was much easier in the summertime when the cows spent most of their time in the fields and where taken out again after milking. During the winter they were of course kept in and they made such a mess, it was really hard work, the manure heap got bigger and bigger in a very short time but of course that meant there was plenty of material for the muck spreading!
We met Mrs Sharp one day and she said that her relatives had now gone and as there was to be some more evacuees arriving they would have to have new children unless of course we, Harry and I, would like to return to stay with them again, providing of course Mr and Mrs Slade would not mind. We were quite happy with these arrangements and via the billeting officer our return to Woodhill took place the following week. The same routine took place and we were once again back to the church and the 1st Stoke St Gregory Scout group. Back once again to the Venn鈥檚 farm. Not much had changed. Lennie was still late for work, there was plenty of chat but little work done before lunch time, the cows were milked and put out to pasture but no real farm work
I well recall one summer鈥檚 day at haymaking time when I had to take the cows out to a field on the moors, also an overgrown pony to pull the hay rake. The hay rake was quite big and with the pony in the shafts I was ready to start. It was quite difficult, the hay had to be raked into straight lines ready to be lifted onto wagons. The rake tines were thick and heavy; there was a foot pedal and a hand lever to lift the rake off the ground. Lunchtime arrived with no sign of my work colleagues. After sometime I saw them in the distance bringing our lunch, this consisted of home-made bread, cheese and cider, after this repast a short rest was called for, food and drink did not allow a swift return to work. My fieldwork usually finished about 4.30 pm. Returning with the pony and the herd of cows to the farm I put the pony in the field and the cows in their stalls to await the return of the rest of the workforce to do the milking.
Another unforgettable incident happened whilst the wheat was being threshed. Everyone had a job to do and not much time to look around. Then we heard one of the men shout that a parachute was landing out on the moors. Everyone gave his or her opinion as to what had landed. Ken Loveridge, who was a special constable and always took his duty very seriously, said that he would have to go out to investigate. It was at the time of the year when the water was beginning to creep over the fields and it was not easy to get to where the object had landed. After a considerable time Ken was seen coming back carrying a large white bundle under his arms. What it was was anybodies guess. We eventually found out that it contained meteorological instruments. One of the land girls working with us was getting married and it was suggested that the parachute material should be given to her to make a wedding dress. Ken was adamant and said that he would have to return the whole thing to the proper authorities. Sorry no wedding dress. It was not long before I would get to know Ken a lot better.
Some of the evacuees were still being moved around the village and we had another boy come to live with us, James Bird. Jim had come to Stoke with his two sisters in March 1940. They did not always live together, this very often happened, I cannot recall Jim staying with us for very long but we did see him at school and around the village. One of the most interesting events was when a new wagon was being built. The blacksmith and the carpenter both had plenty of work to do but very different materials to work with. Mr Peard (blacksmith) made all of the ironwork, fancy parts in twisted metal, the attachments for joining wood and metal together not forgetting the bonds that went around the outside of the wheels. All the metal had to be heated to red-hot then hammered into shape. My job was pumping the bellows, very hot work. Sometimes things were interrupted when a horse was brought in for new shoes. All shoe sizes were made in any spare time, it was then quite easy to heat them up and alter them to fit the feet of even the biggest horse. I remember so well the smell when the hot shoe was placed on the hoof to gauge the right size. The woodwork was so very different from the metalwork, to me everything was enormous, the wheels, the shafts, the planks for the floor. Mr Sharp normally had a special delivery of wood when making a wagon. The large doors at the back of the building were opened to allow the wood to be taken in and often left open when the big circular saw was being used to cut such things as shafts because of the shape. The most difficult thing to make must have been the hub. As the centre of the wheel every piece had to be exact, the spokes, every one the same length and thickness. The fancy pieces to join other parts were all handmade with a spokeshave and, when painted at the end of this huge operation, it was a sight to behold. When the farmer came to collect his vehicle he was very pleased and proud of his new possession.
Our next and last move was a little further up Woodhill, in fact to Ken and Doris Loveridge at Woodbine Cottage. I had known them both for sometime and called them Uncle Ken and Auntie Doris. Ken was a man who played many parts, a special constable, church clerk and sexton, scoutmaster, gravedigger, kept the church grounds tidy and rang the church bell when a death occurred. One ring for a child, two for a lady and three for a man, also the age was rung in peels of twenty. Ringing this bell was something that I did (after some tuition) at the funeral services. If the bell was heard during school time my friends used to ask me who had died but all I could tell them was whether it was a man, woman or child. Ken also kept one cow, a couple of calves, chickens, ducks, geese and also had one withy bed out on the moors. He was a very busy man.
It was at about this time that we evacuees changed to the village school, quite a number of children had returned to London. Our teacher Mr Yates having lost his pupils also returned to his home. It was just a little strange being in a classroom with everybody doing the same lessons after so long in the village hall, but we soon settled in. Our playing field was on a farm in Huntham, sometimes it was still being used for the cows and horses but they did not want to join in! Sports day was not something that was taken lightly by our headmaster Mr Smith. The race starts, relay changeovers, high jumps etc. were practiced on the school lawn. During one of these sessions I was talking to one of my friends Ralph Musgrove when Mr Smith spotted us and said it was our turn. Ralph and I looked at each other, our turn, our turn for what? We had no clue as to what was expected of us. After several hints it dawned on us what had to be done. We saw a vaulting horse, which our classmates had been trying to jump over and roll out. Unbeknown to us no one had yet managed to do this. It was my turn first; a run up to the horse and over I went to land on my head to some applause from Mr Smith who added that I had not completed the jump, as I had not rolled out. Ralph had his turn and did a perfect jump. Thank goodness the lesson was over and there was no time for my second attempt.
It was during this time that my brother Harry left school. At first he worked for Uncle Ken weeding the withies on the moor, not something that he liked to do, very back aching. After a short time he left to deliver telegrams at a small post office not far from Stoke. The news from the front was greatly improving, so Harry decided to return to London. He joined the GPO again to deliver telegrams but this time of course it was in the West End of London. He delivered them to Oxford Street, Regent Street and Piccadilly. I still remained at Woodbine Cottage.
At school 11 and 12-year-old boys were given a card (I think it was blue), this allowed them to work on farms for 20 half-days during the summer period. School time was then 9 am until midday, then off to work, our pay was set by the government, not too much of course but we had regular breaks during our working period - we did not always get them. My work was one of two types, haymaking or weeding the withies. I much preferred the haymaking; withy work was far too back aching. With the clocks on double British Summer Time we could work (or play) until about 11 o鈥檆lock, we always stopped whatever we were doing when the Dakotas came flying low over the fields, the pilots waved to us and we always returned the same. Some flights were quite regular and it was not long before we recognized the emblems (young ladies) painted on the sides. Sometimes the pilots would dip their wings as they flew over, we thought that they must have recognized us.
During this time quite a number of evacuees returned to London. The allied armies were advancing towards Germany; there was lots of talk about victory. My thoughts were very confused, would I have to return to London soon or could I stay in Stoke, it was something that I didn鈥檛 want to think about.
Al1 of the farms were very busy, carts trundling along the lanes. Farmer Fred House would use three shires instead of the normal two because of his love of horses; it did make a truly impressive sight. One or two of the farms used cut down lorries instead of horses, they thought that this would speed up their work. Italian prisoners started work clearing ditches. Two of them moved in to live with George Patten of Woodhill; he built a wooden hut on the end of his house for their use. We were very sad to hear that the land girl who delivered milk for the Parson鈥檚 farm was leaving to get married. She had often given us a lift to school on her milk float. On her last day she had a very large wicker container on the float, it was already nearly half full of wrapped presents. We all missed her. There was however one small consolation. When Mr Parsons delivered the milk he announced his imminent arrival, while still some distance away, by singing for all he was worth, hymns, popular songs, he sang them all.
Events in Europe were progressing swiftly, British, American and other European forces were getting very close to Berlin and the Russians were closer still. The wireless was best for information and we were avid listeners and knew that the war was almost at an end. On May 8th we celebrated Victory in Europe, there was no school on that day. We tied our handmade Christmas decorations to the wall outside the house; they looked very good until the rain came. In just a few moments they were a soggy mess, even the dog managed to divest itself of its Union Jack. Things got back to normal in a few days.
Some eight weeks later an order from the Government was issued. All evacuees had to return home; no further payments would be paid to our guardians. It was very hard to say goodbye to all our friends, those who had looked after us for so long. The freedom to roam almost anywhere at will, the farms where we were always made welcome. The fruit that we could eat and pick at any time, Sweet William and Tom Putts, big juicy apples, plums, currants and berries, all free. One or two events still remain as if yesterday. Just imagine three very young London lads driving three or four dozen sheep from Woodhill to Meare Green, trying to get through the sheep before the next turning came up. It was hilarious but we made it with a full count. It was always a laugh to be with Fred House (farmer) too, there were always so many children about. He was like a veritable Pied Piper; children just seemed to flock to him! On one journey, whilst taking hay to Athelney Station, there must have been about twelve children on top of the wagon. When we arrived at the weighbridge the wagon, hay and children were all weighed altogether. The trouble arose when we had to make the return journey. Fred scratched his head, 鈥淣ow just which of the children had been on the wagon at the weigh in?鈥�
There are some things that I cannot remember completely such as the poem that Doris Loveridge wrote, one verse went like this:

Donald鈥檚 joined the boy scouts
And said, 鈥淚f you please
Can I use your scented soap?
To wash my dirty knees鈥�

There were other verses about her family, which have faded from my memory. Of others only names remain: Jack Kemble, Ken Meares and, as mentioned earlier, Ralph Musgrove.
Five years, eleven months and a few days: 2nd September 1939 until 4th August 1945. I thank you all for looking after me for so long.鈥�

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