大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War website by Marie on behalf of Mollie and has been added to the site with her permission. Mollie fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

The following are extracts from accounts Mollie and Roy wrote for their granddaughter Orianne's school project.

GRANDAD

My Mother and Father were too old to be allocated jobs during the Second World War. Dad did some turns as air raid warden at Southampton Docks Post Office (he worked in the Post Office all his life). I had started a marine apprenticeship with the Red Funnel Line in the docks where the conditions were very primitive -no electricity, only candles in the engine room, tools made by the blacksmith that needed filing to fit the job in hand, there was only a bucket of cold water to wash our very dirty, greasy hands and the workshop was old with a cobbled floor. Then they were bombed and a great deal of Red Funnel was destroyed. Fortunately, I was able to move my apprenticeship to John Thorneycroft's where conditions were much better. I worked there building destroyers and motor torpedo boats. Later I was sent to Southampton Docks repairing ships, mainly in the engine room or on the steering engine. This was operated from the bridge by the sailors on watch. There was a handle to turn which connected to the rudder (which steers it) at the stem of the ship by two pipelines containing oil and they sometimes had air bubbles in which had to be removed. Often the ships had war damage to be repaired as well as the engines needing repair and maintenance. The whole port area was a prime target for German bombers, of course, and was partly protected by barrage balloons. These made quite an interesting sight especially when the sun was glinting on their silver coloured surfaces. The Germans were sometimes able to shoot them down in flames, which was quite spectacular.

The reason I did not go into the Forces was because I worked in the docks. Those people whose work was vital to the war effort were not allowed to "join up" as their skills would take a long time to replace. These jobs were called Reserved Occupations, and mine was one of them. However, I did join the Home Guard, a part time group who wore army uniforms but with a Home Guard shoulder flash (shades of 'Dad's Army'!). We were on duty one night a week at Nursling, a small place on the outskirts of Southampton, where we were taken by truck. They had six of the very latest 3.7 AckAck (anti-aircraft) guns. In spite of all the practice we had, bringing up and loading shells, finding direction, aiming and firing, we didn't ever have to fire them in anger. They would have been most useful earlier in the war during the heavy air raids when German aircraft flew above Southampton Water to reach their targets, principally the Docks but also many factories making armaments of one kind or another including aircraft. The nearest we got to firing was when an American ambulance plane came over. The pilot had to fire a signal using flares in a special order of colours and numbers to show he was friend, not foe -"one of ours." He had it wrong but fortunately we didn't actually fire though we were just about ready to when the plane was recognised for what it was. What a good job!

Prior to Nursling I was with a rocket group at another outpost by the edge of Southampton Water, called Marchwood, where there is a military port, but we didn't ever fire one of those either, not even in practice. We did go down to a promontory at Gosport, once, to give us a chance to actually fire. We had trouble with our rocket launcher so a real stereotype sergeant-major came over to sort us out. He was very smart with a new army overcoat which he folded and carefully placed on the ground. When we finally moved the launcher round to its firing position this coat was burnt to a cinder, before two rockets finally took off. To us privates this was a humorous point in our lives as Home Guards, some compensation for sleeping in a Nissen hut on a hard bed with one blanket. When we had some sleep, that is. As with many folk in those days, kept up at night with prolonged air raids, there was still work as usual the next morning, for me that was 7.30 in the docks.

My older brother Vernon (same name as Dad) wore an RAF uniform with a shoulder flash for The Observer Corps, as he was one of that essential band of plane-spotters who did such valiant work recognising the different types of planes as they approached. He went to a variety of gun batteries to tell them if the planes were 'ours' or 'theirs', in other words, direct the gunners which planes to shoot at, or otherwise. Along the coast there were huts fitted with radio and telephone to communicate inland as planes arrived from over the sea. He was very good at recognising aeroplanes of all types. Like the Home Guard this was a part time occupation, though a daytime one, mostly. The highlight of his time as an Observer was the D-Day invasion of France. He was on one of the ships being kept very busy as there were so many planes from both sides fighting it out above them. He, of course, had to make sure that the gunners didn't fire at the wrong planes.
My sister, Beryl, was evacuated with her insurance job to Barton-on Sea, which is between Lymington and Bournemouth on the south coast. This was because their premises had been bombed in Southampton. So the nearest she got to actual war work was learning first-aid with the soldiers who were stationed nearby. (Not to mention going out with them!)

NANNA

My father, who had been a 'regular soldier', i.e. stayed in the Tank Corps (as it then was) after world war 1 until about 1927, felt duty bound to volunteer in the early days of the second world war, but at 52 he was far too old. So he continued to drive his taxi all through the war, with the extra petrol ration he was allowed. He was able to go into the docks at Southampton quite frequently to meet the ships coming in from all over the world, cargo ships, passenger ships and "troop ships. Sometimes he was able to bring out small quantities of fruit from South Africa when they were in very short supply here - oranges were only for the under 16s, bananas were unheard of through the war. He had a friend who worked on the Union Castle ships who would bring home this fruit for his family and would give some to us as well. Taxis were used a lot, as most people did not have cars, and a reliable taxi driver was much appreciated. As far as the war was concerned, it came into its own during the blitz. One night there were fires all over the place and the firemen needed to move from one to another when their engine may have been stuck. So they commandeered the nearest taxi, in this case my father's, to take them across town, a hazardous journey with many roads impassable because of bomb craters and collapsed buildings. There were fire hoses all over the place, too. It was well after midnight when he arrived home, saying he would take us all to my Granny's, 30 miles away near Poole. He said that all the mud in the car was from the firemen's boots and couldn't be helped. When we arrived at Granny's we could still see the red glow in the sky over Southampton and enough light to see to read the paper, though with some difficulty! Daddy then returned home - a very long and stressful day. I think, though, that he felt that at last he had been able to do something, however small, towards helping the war.

As for my mother, during the early years of the war she looked after lodgers, as many people had to if they had the room and lived in the right areas. These were men who had been sent here to work in warrelated industries, like munitions factories, aircraft factories, ship building and ship repairing. Men with these skills, or who were not fit enough or were too old for the forces could be drafted into these jobs and needed somewhere to stay. This was one way that women at home could help the war effort. After that, my mother worked in an aircraft factory, feeling that this was 'proper' war work. It was a completely new experience for her. She was a good knitter and needle-woman and found that this dexterity came in really useful, working 'on the bench' putting together sometimes really small aircraft components. This also involved using blue-prints - detailed plans of 'what-went-where' printed on a blue background. (No, I don't know why it was blue, neither does Grandad. All part of the printing process, it seems.) Later, she was promoted 拢Tom 'making' to 'inspecting' other people's work, which pleased her. The work was very tiring because it needed a lot of concentration and there were air raids, of course. There were compensations, though, as there usually are - the camaraderie of the work-mates and the satisfaction of knowing the job was both worthwhile and well done. This was essential, people's lives depended on their accuracy. No slacking, either, the planes were always needed urgently. Hard luck if you were tired because you'd been up half the night with air raids, you couldn't let-up. Her earnings 拢Tom this paid for my education, otherwise I would have left school at 14, like my sister.

My sister, Sheila, is five years older than me, and when she was 17 - 'call-up' age, she joined the Fire Service and trained to be a telephonist. She would receive reports of the fires and pass the information to the Fire Officers who sent out the engines. This was also war work and involved working shifts, particularly as many of the raids with their incendiary (fire) bombs were at night. She had a uniform, navy blue with red flashes and a navy and red forage cap (army style), and felt quite proud wearing it. Like Grandad' s sister she flatly refused to go in our semi-underground air raid shelter and would stand outside watching the sky and listening. I would join her when I could, when my parents weren't about!

Me? I was at school- evacuated most of the time: Granny's, my step-brother's in Denham (Bucks), then Bournemouth for three and a half years until Christmas 1944 when the school returned to Southampton.

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