Teenagers in War

PART II

Teenagers in War
I was fourteen years old when the Second World War broke out. I had only been working for a few months - the year was 1939.1 had always wanted to work in a shop, but the hours were very long in those days; nine o'clock until eight at night most nights, and this also included a Saturday evening. It was decided that I start work in a cotton mill, where I finished work at 5-30 each weekday, and at 12-30 on a Saturday lunch-time. It was a homely firm, just a few minutes walk from my home, and the work was interesting. Whilst we were being taught how to handle the machine, the older women would send us out to the shops for sweets or ice-cream, and we would come back with our arms laden with goodies.
In those days no one seemed to bother about time. If the gas man was due, the women would leave a note pinned to their doors saying, "Come to the mill for the key." Everyone trusted each other, and some even left their doors on the latch whilst they were out at work.
One day we went into work and were told that the mill had no orders in, and that we were all going to be laid-off work. We young ones did not worry too much, for it would be a relief to have a break from the factory. I was looking forward to my holidays, as my aunt who had no children, had invited me to go with her and my uncle, and another unmarried aunt, to Southport; so I was excited at the prospect of a week near the sea. We had just been off work three weeks, when we were told to report back again,
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as orders were flooding in. Some of the machines had been altered to take air force blue and khaki to help with the clothing for the armed forces. Mr Chamberlain, the prime minister at the time, had been to Germany a few times, and supposedly sorted things out. But my father used to say, "He is just stalling for time, we have nothing to start a war with."
August came and I went off to Southport with my aunt. The weather was lovely, which it was all through the thirties. I remember all the hotels and boarding-houses lit up with bright lights, and all the trees down Lord Street festooned with coloured lights; the shop windows were bright with displays at night. I never dreamt that within three weeks everything would be blacked-out for nearly six years on account of the war. We all had a lovely time until about the Thursday when my uncle pointed out that men were filling sandbags as we walked along the sea front. This suddenly brought it home that war seemed inevitable.
By September 3rd, England had declared war on Germany. We were all listening to our wireless sets as Mr Chamberlain told us with a very sad voice that we were at war.
That first day everything felt unreal and we all felt that life would never be the same again. All the young people were making their way to an old mill which stood at the back of our house to watch the Engineers, who were a regiment of soldiers, fixing barbed wire around the grounds, for this was to be a prisoner of war camp. Everything seemed to go on as normal except for the 'black-out'. I remember the last night we had before every light in the country went out for the next six years. It was a hot September night, a Saturday, September 2nd; people had all their windows open, there was hardly a breath of air and people sat on their doorsteps wondering what was going to happen. It was the lull before the storm, since we were standing on the edge of the unknown.
England stood alone for eighteen months. All the
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countries in Europe were nearly swallowed up by Hitler's army. No one had been prepared for war, but Germany had been arming themselves for years. Winston Churchill had been warning the country for years about Hitler, but no one took any notice of him - he was called a warmonger. He had been out in the wilderness for years as far as his political career was concerned. He made people uncomfortable with his honesty. He was brought out of retirement and asked to lead the country now we were at war; no one else must have wanted the job.
What a difference it made having Mr Churchill as our leader and prime minister. We had felt depressed before, but now we had a weight lifted off us all. We listened to his speeches when he told us all we would win through; even if every man, woman, and child had to fight in the streets, we would die before we would give in to the Germans, and each and every one of us knew that we would have done so. We grew in confidence and we knew that some day we would win through in the end, even though we didn't know that we had no weapons to fight with. It was going to be a long hard struggle, but with Mr Churchill at the helm, we would win through one day.
For the next few months, we could not tell there was a war on, and we went about our work, and children went to school as they had always done, and life went on as usual. Then in 1940, the bombers started to fly over London. London had already experienced some bombing raids, but now it was night and day. The raiders came across the channel from France, which was now under German occupation. They came over the white cliffs of Southern England in formation, to drop their bombs on London; but soon they were discharging their bombs all over Britain. In no time, our Spitfires went up and met them in the skies, and people in London would stand in the streets as dogfights took place between the RAF and the Luftwaffe. Then pilots from Canada, America, Australia, New Zealand and occupied Europe, joined forces.
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America was undecided at first whether to help us, but when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbour, they declared war and joined forces with Britain. We were not alone any more; we were filled to capacity with armed forces from all over the world; we were like a fortress, this tiny island of ours, and no one was going to invade us. We were prepared for invasion, as far as knowing that if the church bells rang out, the enemy had landed. We all dreaded the thoughts of hearing the bells ring out, but thank goodness they never did.
The first time we heard the air raid warning, it was rather frightening. It seemed to wail up and down in waves; and in the dead of night, it was very eerie. We all called it 'Moaning Minnie'; and as time went by, we got use to it. We had air raid shelters which were built in culs-de-sac, and they each housed about thirty people. We found ourselves trooping into the shelters as the warning went, but instead of being concerned about the bombs, we argued amongst ourselves. Did we want to hear some music - a man played the accordion? Or did we want to sit in silence and wait for the bombs to drop? We just had to compromise with each other! We listened to music for a time, then we sat in silence. In one air raid, my young brother aged ten, had run back into the house for his money-box, and when he was running back down the front steps, he slipped and fell. His money-box consisted of four half-crowns, and they came out of the box; and because they were silver we could not see them in the snow. However he insisted on looking for them, and the air raid warden was trying to get us back into the shelter, so he became very annoyed with us. But there was no moving my brother until he had found all his money.
I suppose we were very fortunate people in our town. We were very close to Manchester, and once the war was advanced, Manchester was bombed every night. The ack-ack guns would be blasting out, and the sky would be lit up over Manchester. We would hear the drone of the planes
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overhead, very heavy with their load of bombs. We used to get the tail-end of the bombs, and if the Germans couldn't get through, they turned around and dropped them on us! We were classed as a 'safe town', and we got evacuees from London who had been bombed out. People also came up to our town from Manchester after work and stayed with people to get a good night's sleep - then off back to work in the early morning - then back again at night.
The prisoner of war camp started to fill up with German soldiers and airmen, and also Italians. The railway line ran alongside of the camp so they brought hundreds at a time. Our cotton mill was very near and although soldiers with Alsatian dogs were guarding them, we all felt a bit unnerved at times. There must have been at least 200 women in our factory and hardly any men. On lovely summer days the soldiers would walk the prisoners up through the village and into the countryside, and from the mill windows we would watch them go. There were the fields beyond, and we could see them all lounging about on the grass, and we would wonder who were the prisoners. We worked twelve hours a day for the war effort, and the dust off the air force blue and khaki went all over the place. We could only stay on these machines a certain length of time, then someone else had to take over.
Everywhere we went, we had to carry our gas masks; to work, to the pictures, on a walk in the park, and to the dance-halls. A factory did a roaring trade making fancy cases to carry them in. As time progressed we stopped carrying them with us, for we had become confident that we would not need them, and that gas would not be used.
We also had food rationing books for each member of the family. We were allowed 2oz. of this and 2oz. of that, but we still had our fish and chips. After the war there was a survey on our health, and we were all in very good shape, to the surprise of everyone. The Germans used to bomb our merchant ships which carried food, and in the
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beginning of the war hardly any of our ships got through until they started sailing in convoys. The merchant ships were escorted by the Royal Navy who had big guns on board, this helped tremendously, and more food came into the country. We never saw bananas or onions until the Fair came to our village and a man won an onion on a shooting-gallery. It was the talk of the village for a week, we hadn't seen one in years.
Although the mini-dress didn't come into fashion until the sixties, we were all wearing short clothes in the war to save material to help the war effort. We wore no stockings and painted our legs with sun-tan liquid, and if we wanted a seam running up the back, either our sisters or friends ran a line of black pencil straight up the back of the imaginary stockings. Clothes were still very cheap. My friend and I went to Manchester one Saturday afternoon in between daylight air raids, and I bought a lovely navy blue cotton dress with daisies on for 2/1 Id, and black patent shoes, for about the same price. We did not do too badly for clothes, and although they were on coupons, we often used mother's or dad's.
The dance-halls were packed out in the war; almost everyone could do ballroom dancing; it was lovely just to observe as well as dance. We did the Quickstep, Tango and all the other popular dances. The big bands were enjoyable, they came up from London and toured all the big towns to help keep up morale. On a Saturday, we would dance from eight until midnight for l/6d, and that included supper. On Saturdays we could catch the train to Manchester, go to Bell Vue and dance all day; look around the zoo; and all for l/6d. The trains would be packed with young people, and we had the top bands to dance to.
Everyone had to have dark curtains at their windows, and not a chink of light had to show. We had the ARP wardens, and if there was one chink of light, they would bang on the door and shout, "Put that light out." If this was not done immediately, we could have been fined by
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law. We also had to save water - we were all supposed to bath in the same water - but mother had a wooden tub in the yard outside which would catch rain-water. We carried the water in and heated it in the gas boiler, then poured it into a large tin bath placed beside a coal fire in the kitchen grate. The coals would be glowing red and the kitchen would be lovely and warm; bath time was so comforting and cosy.
One of the saddest things we young ones experienced, was the calling-up of our young men; boys we had gone to school with, and had known all our lives. They were only eighteen years old, but unless they were in a reserved occupation, everyone had to go. One of our dearest childhood friends, Bill, didn't even make the war. Whilst training to be a soldier, he was crossing a river laden down by a full kit and was swept away together with some of his friends in a freak storm, at the age of nineteen. Then Freddie, another well-loved friend, became a pilot and he never returned home - presumed lost over France. There were plenty more from our school, who one day were happy-go-lucky, and the next time we heard they were missing, presumed dead.
In 1940, my sister was nineteen and I was nearly sixteen; it was the first holiday we had had on our own. We had always either gone with aunts and uncles, or our friends and their families. Mother couldn't afford to take us altogether, with there being six of us in the family. Mother decided that we were old enough to go on our own, putting my elder sister in charge of me and taking care of the holiday money. We felt quite well off, with £2.50 for board, lodging and spending money.
Before we could go away we needed two new dresses each; we had had new coats earlier in the year. On the Friday night before we set off the following day, we went into town to the shops which were open until eight at night, but if there were plenty of customers they stayed open until nine. No one seemed bothered about time in those days. 26
We had just chosen our dresses, and were waiting for the change and the bill, which procedure always fascinated me. The shop assistant put the money and the bill in a metal container, hung it on a wire and off it went right around the shop until it reached the cashier. She sat up on a high desk, and took the contents out of the container, checked them, and if change was needed she enclosed it with the bill and off went the container again on its journey back to the waiting customer. Whilst all this was taking place, the air raid warning sounded. I looked through the shop-window and people were running in all directions looking for air raid shelters. We were told if we wanted to we could go down into the basement of the shop, which we decided to do. We heard the bombers going over again and heading for Manchester. I was more concerned about missing the dance at the Co-op Hall, until my sister reminded me they would also be in the basement there until the 'all clear'.
Saturday dawned, a lovely day, and mother gave us strict instructions to behave ourselves and to watch our money. We set off for the railway station. The platform was jammed-packed with holiday-makers; nearly every one going to Blackpool. It seemed to be a safe place to go, and not too far from home. I never did hear whether Blackpool got any bombing. We reached Blackpool about noon and we could not move for people, no one would have known there was a war on except for the fact that the armed forces were there in their thousands. We reached our boarding-house, and on trying to enter, we could not get inside the door for soldiers. It seemed every seaside hotel and boarding-house had to accommodate the armed forces as well as a few boarders. They sat with us for meals, and they all seemed a nice bunch of men. I even got the job of doing their darning for them, and I'm afraid it wasn't very good! However, they didn't seem to mind so long as someone was willing to do this chore for them. Blackpool has a very wide promenade, and this came in
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handy for drilling the forces up and down the front. The air force at one end and the army were at the other. What a hard time the sergeants had with the holiday-makers. The sergeants would be yelling out their commands, and now and again perhaps bawling out one of the men, if he wasn't doing his job properly. The older men and women would start to shout at the sergeant saying that he was showing the lads up, and adding he was someone's son. Then the sergeant would tell the people to mind their own business; and this is how it went on most mornings on the sea front. I must say we had a very nice holiday - except when we went out in a motor boat on the sea, and I came off sick, and my sister had to get me into a side street. My face was so green and everyone was looking at me.
In the thirties we all enjoyed the wireless; we got plenty of dance band music and cbmics. One comedian was Will Hay, although he was mostly on the screen; then along came Tommy Handley. These two men kept our morale up. Tommy Handley had his own show on the wireless and we all had his saying off by heart, 'T.T.F.N.' (ta, ta for now) and his Mrs Mop, 'Can I do you now sir?' He was wonderful, old and young alike loved him. One day our wireless was broken down and I knew it was the night for Tommy Handley. I said to mother "It will be miserable tonight with the wireless broken down and no Tommy Handley." But I need not have worried, knowing mother she would try something. I got home from work and on entering the hallway, the wireless was on with the news. I said "However did you get it going?" She looked at me and laughed, and said "It needed a bit of help. I just banged it on top and it hasn't stopped working since."
By the time I was seventeen I had a boy-friend; he was waiting to be called up for the Navy. I remember one night I was getting myself ready to go to the Saturday night dance, and looking forward to the big dance band which had come from London - they used to play the Glenn Miller numbers. I felt rather pleased with my appearance. I28
gathered up my dance shoes and handbag, called to my mother that I was going out and would see her later, and off down the hallway I went. As I opened the front door, I was amazed to see soldiers on the footpath and in the small front gardens of our row of houses, and stalking underneath the windows. They were dressed in battledress with their rifles pointed at the ready, with pieces of trees in their tin helmets for camouflage. I was halted as I stood on the doorstep, and I was told that I could not go out and to go back inside as we were prisoners, and the whole row of houses were captured. Thank goodness the sergeant was only kidding me. My boy-friend laughed when I told him, but he said he would have demanded my release or we would have missed the dance!
One of the worst nights of the war that I can recall, was when the V2 rockets came over. We called them 'Doodle­bugs'. They were rockets fired from France. They had no pilots inside them, and we teenagers did feel a little afraid of them. London and the other big cities were getting them, and they were very destructive; they were worse than the bombers. This certain night we heard the sirens, we hadn't been home long because it was Christmas Day - it must have been around 1 o'clock and it was my nineteenth birthday. We had what they called 'double summer time' and although the time was 1 o'clock, it was really only eleven o'clock. This enabled us to go to bed and get a few hours' sleep before the German bombers came over after midnight. We did not bother to go into air raid shelters by 1943, as everyone said "If the bomb has your name on it, you will go no matter what." We had two big cellars so we let one or two families come down with us. This night was different from other raids. We all knew when we heard the engines, that it was a 'Doodle-bug' coming over. We all sat tense and we were all asking the same question, "What was going to happen?" As long as we could hear the engine we knew we were safe, but as soon as it cut out that was when it dropped. It came over our roof-top and it sounded as if
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someone was roller-skating on the slates, and we all sat round holding our breath as the rocket cut its engine. We all automatically ducked down as an almighty bang ripped through the silence of the night. We were very lucky, it had passed over us and the row of houses across the road, and had fallen on a row just above us. Thank goodness they hadn't any cellars, so they had all gone into their air raid shelters, and miraculously no one was killed. If the bomb had stopped short of our row of houses, the prisoner of war camp could have gone up. As time went on, the French Resistance found out about where they were coming from, and the RAF and the American Air Force took aerial photographs, and in time they were all dealt with and completely destroyed; but by now we were nearly at the end of the war.
I will never forget when the Americans came to Britain's shores. We didn't care for these swaggering well-dressed soldiers and airmen, chewing their gum and bragging about how they were going to win the war all by themselves. Before they came to Britain, it seemed they had been instructed on how to behave towards us all. They were told we were a very quaint nation and that we were all well mannered, and that we did not brag about ourselves. In time they toned down and they came to love our country; they loved the village pubs and our countryside; and we also found in time that most of them had hearts of gold. All the children would shout for chewing-gum and they would produce gum and chocolate for them, and give a helping hand to anyone needing it.
I have written this story for all the teenagers who were in the war. We always felt that we had been robbed of our youth. We were fourteen years old when the war began, and we were nearly twenty when it finished. Then I started to think of all the people who had lost their lives; some had to live with disabilities; our mothers had to stand back whilst we, the children, were given the best food possible at the time. There were our childhood friends who never30
came back. I can still see them as we were at school, never to grow old.
When victory came, we had parties in the streets and danced until we could dance no more. We went into town and saw all the lights being switched on; young and old alike, gazing up at the street lamps like little children. We could not believe that all had been darkness for six years, and now it was brilliant like a dream. Music played everywhere and everyone laughed and sang, and we all felt that we were on the threshold of a new life. We could not believe that it was all over. Food rationing went on until the early fifties, before everything was back to normal. I felt we were very old teenagers, but very proud; we had lived through a part of history, and to this day life is very precious to us all.

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