- Contributed by听
- csvdevon
- People in story:听
- Pearl Trueman
- Location of story:听
- Cornwall
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A7463397
- Contributed on:听
- 02 December 2005
This story has been written onto the 大象传媒 People's War site by CSV Storygatherer Linda Finlay on behalf of Pearl Trueman. The story has been added to the site with her permiussion and Pearly fully understands the terms and condition of the site.
When I was 15, during the war, there was a scheme whereby you could work on a farm to help the war effort. You got free board and lodging and your return train ticket. I knew nothing of the country, but rather fancied myself grooming horses and feeding chickens and riding on a tractor.
One of the farms on a list I consulted was in Cornwall. I had never been there and had heard it was a beautiful county. As I had never been away alone before, I had a hard job persuading my mother to let me go. She finally gave her reluctant consent because, as she said, I would at least have a rest from the air raids we were experiencing at the time.
I set off early on a Sunday morning, and because of the unreliable wartime trains did not arrive until late evening. The tiny station where I alighted seemed to be
in the middle of nowhere. The ticket collector told me there was no bus, so I set
off to walk the two miles to the farm carrying my heavy suitcase, fearful every step of the loud country noises around me.
When I eventually found the farm there was no sign of life. Evidently everyone had gone to bed. My arrival aroused the farm dogs however. There seemed to me to be about ten of them, all looking and sounding like hungry wolves. Even more frightening, some geese joined in - rushing at me with outspread wings and hissing loudly.
An irate farmer came out, roused from his bed in time to stop me from being torn to pieces. He led me to a bunk in one of the barns where the volunteer workers were housed. I had been looking forward to having a shower before going to bed but something told me that any mention of the subject would not be welcome. I crawled into the little bed and lay awake for hours wondering if the rustling noises I had heard were rats that would run over my face if I went to sleep.
Next morning I met all the other volunteers, and after a breakfast of fried bread, we set out for the fields. the work was broccoli planting. Now it sounds simple enough. I was given an armful of broccoli plants, a famr worker would make a small cut in the soil with his spade, I would bend down and press the plant in, and he would press the soil down with his foot. Note that I was the one who was doing the bending. He stood up straight, making his little cuts and pressing the earth down. He worked like a fast metronome, so that I had no time to straighten my back and was hard put to avoid getting my hand crushed beneath his great boot. The only relief from this bending down was when I had to run back and get another armful of plants while he leaned on his spade.
The sun beat down while we planted row after row. He was snesibly dressed. His wide brimmed trilby hat kept the sun out of his eyes and long sleeved flannel shirt protected his arms and neck and absorbed his sweat. I wore a sleeveless top and shorts and sandals. There was no conversation. The only sounds were my pitiful moans.
At one o'clock I was allowed to collapse under a stunted bush which afforded partial shade and eat warm bread and cheese and drink cold tea. I was quite sure I would never get on my feet again, but half an hour later I had to and toiled again under the burning sun until five o'clock.
After a wash in a bucket in the year and a tea of beans on toast, I staggered, bent double, towards my bunk, refusing on the way to an invitation from a handsome young volunteer to go for a walk with him that evening.
I stuck it for a week and then went home. I had become accustomed to my face. We volunteers all looked the same, skin red and peeling, eyes nearly hidden by swollen lids, forehead blistered, so I was surprised when my mother screamed alound and clid "oh my god" when she caught sight of me. When asked about my early arrival, I replied shortly that I would prefer to face the bombs.
Of course, in those days we had never heard of Sun Factor creams. No wonder my face is convered in wrinkles now!
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