- Contributed byÌý
- threecountiesaction
- People in story:Ìý
- Lily Turner
- Location of story:Ìý
- Widford, Herts
- Article ID:Ìý
- A7712598
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 12 December 2005
This story was submitted to the People’s War Site by Doreen Oaks for Three Counties Action, on behalf of Lily Turner, and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.
I must have been in my early twenties when my friend and I decided to join the Land Army. We thought it would make a change to get out of London — Hammersmith, in my case.
We were sent to Widford, Hertfordshire, and were a mixed group from all walks of life, but got on together very well. To us it was a great adventure and felt we were going to do good things for the war effort. What came as a disappointment was that we were given no training, no instruction as to the working methods on the land and were simply thrown in at the deep end. From our hostel we were taken each day in a lorry to farms wanting labour. Another disappointment was that we were given no flasks — we had a decent breakfast but in the bitter winter a hot drink would have helped our freezing days along. Unless a farmer’s wife took pity on us, we would be without a drink till about 7.30pm.
Food was nothing fancy but plentiful enough. What did come as a luxury was a real bath, with running hot water. At home we had what most people had, a galvanised tin bath that hung on the outside wall till it was wanted on Friday.
Our first job was to cut down a high hedge, which had been neglected for two years. To do this we were given a tool like a small scythe on a long handle, called a ‘slasher’, I think. Then we went on to hoe sugar beet plants. Again no tuition was given and we didn’t know what a hoe was, let alone know how to use one. Later the beet was taken to factories to be made into what Britain was using for domestic sugar.
In the summer we had to work on the threshing machine. It was an art to get stocks perfected and, thankfully, a kind male worker would give us a hand. We learned as we went along, there was no choice.
A lot of mucking out was done and for all the unsavoury jobs we did, we quite happily did them. Even happier when, at last, we were issued with flasks. The work was very hard but at no time did I ever think of giving it up.
Our social life centred around the RAF stationed at Hunsdon, a couple of miles away. They would be invited to our hostel where dances were laid on. Every weekend was free, starting from mid-day Saturday. Sundays I would go home, although home had its roof blown off during a raid. The family stayed put and got on with things as one had to.
After a few years I met and married my husband. I didn’t go back to live in London and have stayed in the area of my Land Army days.
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