My War - Personal Memories: Home Front in Birmingham

My War by Doris Freestone..

I celebrated my eighteenth birthday in September 1939, the month that the War started. I vividly remember on that fateful Sunday morning, standing, listening. to the, "wireless", hearing the announcement by Mr Chamberlain, the then Prime Minister, that we were now at war with Germany.
I lived then with my family, grandfather, father, mother, and younger brother in what was then quite a reasonable area of Birmingham, namely Balsall Heath. Later to become known as a rather dubious part of the city, perhaps because of the dreadful state that it was in after the war, having been quite badly bombed.
This news was quite a blow to most of the ordinary folks around us. We were just ordinary. Most of us knowing little about "Politics". We just lived our day to day lives with only the daily papers and the wireless to keep us informed about events in Europe, and if I'm correct I think that a lot of the awful happenings were concealed from us. We were not aware of the concentration camps and the treatment of the Jews in Germany. We did of course have the Movietone and /or the Pathe News, when we could afford to go to the cinema. I well remember seeing pictures of Mr Chamberlain returning from his famous visit to Hitler with the news that the said Hitler had signed a non-aggression pact. This was in 1938. I remember seeing pictures of Unity Mitford being returned by plane from Germany after she had attempted suicide by shooting herself. We also saw pictures of France's wonderful Maginot Line This intended of course to protect them from any possible invaders.
My mother started to make a scrapbook of events by cutting out items from the Daily Mail, we kept this for many years in fact I still have it, very tattered and torn, sadly discontinued after we were bombed.
Signs of the war started immediately, by the issuing of gas masks, air raid shelters, followed by identity cards and ration books, strange things like barrage balloons appearing in the skies. Some of our youth had already disappeared into the Militia, all the fit twenty-year old young men having been called up earlier to prepare their training for possible war. All the places of amusement immediately closed down. All the cinemas, dance halls etc., plus our local skating rink. So now we were without any recreations for a while. We did have the wireless to listen to .One of the most popular programs being Richard Murdock and Arthur Askey (Big-hearted Arthur) in Monday night at eight.
It's Monday night at eight o'clock,
Oh, can't you hear the chimes
They.'re telling you to take an easy chair
To settle by the fireside
Look at your Radio Times,
For Monday night at eight is on the air.
Light comedy, good clean fun, one of the highlights in those darkening days. We listened avidly of course to the news on the wireless to find out what was happening on the war front. At that time news was not very good news. After a short while during the period, which became known as the phoney war, places started to open again, and so a friend and I decided to go to the skating rink again. Here I re-met Reg, a young man that I had known slightly previously. We then started meeting regularly and he was to become my future husband, although I didn't realise it then.
The phoney war did not last for long. By May 1940 France was invaded. Their defence was not very much of a challenge against the German hordes They, merely took the Netherlands first and then entered France from the top. France fell to the enemy in about six weeks, and fully expected Britain to follow suit. How wrong they were. Mr Churchill had by now been elected Prime Minister and he had other ideas. This was when he told us that "We shall defend our island and with the British Empire around us, we shall fight on, unconquerable, until the curse of Hitler is lifted from the brows of men. We are sure that in the end, all will be well"
Now, of course we really were at war. Many hundreds of Allied troops were stranded on the shores of Dunkirk, soon to be gallantly rescued by the many brave "little" ships that were hurriedly mustered to go across the Channel, backwards and forwards facing possible enemy action, to bring home the wounded and the weary men. This was then our darkest hour, as quoted by Mr Churchill. Bombing in the south began, London was heavily targeted followed by ports such as Liverpool and Manchester and of course the Midlands. Coventry and Birmingham were soon attacked and so inevitably Balsall Heath. These were very frightening times, long hours spent in air-raid shelters, after rushing to try to get home from work before dark. The bomb that shattered our home fell one long, brilliantly moonlit night in December 1940. One of my most cherished memories is the sight of the Cadbury van arriving next morning to hand out food and mugs of hot cocoa to all of us shaken, tired, and homeless folk That raid had lasted thirteen hours. And so we were homeless, as were many others around us. But I don't think there were any fatalities that night, because the bomb happened to fall in the roadway, shattering all the houses. Luckily we were found temporary accommodation until we managed to find an alternative home. This was in Sparkhill. The house was big enough to allow Reg, and I to consider marriage. as he was also without his own home, living at this time with friends. Having obtained my parents blessing and permission (as I was not yet of age) we were duly wed in March 1941 Also this year my younger brother, having reached the age of eighteen was called up into the forces. He was directed into the Warwickshire regiment and sent to Budbrook Barracks in Warwick for his training. Sometime after he had been there, I have forgotten how long, we were somewhat surprised to hear from him by air-mail letter that he was on his way to India. He had been transferred to the Chindits.and was on his way to fight in Burma. It was many years later that we found it was very probable that he had volunteered for this but he had never told us. My now husband, had not been accepted on grounds of health for the forces and so had opted to work for a long distance transport firm. This firm carrying War Ministry goods all round the country, even as far as Scotland. This of course meant that he was away from home quite a lot of the time as -travelling at only twenty miles an hour maximum- with blacked out head lights was rather different from today's travelling.
As a young wife without children I was now called up to do war work. I was interviewed for this and was directed to a firm near by named, Reynold.s Tube Industries. Here I was to become a crane driver. .My crane was the middle one of three, in a long building known as the tube mill, and I now (after suitable training) served a team of men dealing with the tubes. These tubes started out quite large in circumference and had to be reduced to the required size by a series of being alternatively drawn and then annealed, after being dropped into large tanks of acid to remove the oil on them. My part in this, was having to lift them, in large bundles and carry them up and down the mill for the various operations. I enjoyed this very much, the men were friendly and helpful,- once they had become accustomed to having a young female to rely on..I quite often found perhaps a biscuit or a piece of chocolate etc put on the bar of the crane, very acceptable at this time of severe rationing. Driving the crane was quite a pleasant occupation, my being able to see all and sundry going on down below me.
But occasionally it would stop. The mechanics would have to be sent for, while I languished up in the air. This was all very well until the day that the crane ceased to function just at finishing time. I was faced with having to stop there or slide down the rope. I did this, there were friendly hands down on the ground waiting to catch me if I fell.
Food was by now getting short. and life was becoming difficult although, the air raids had lost their intensity. at least in the Midlands. Reg found a source of occasional food supply, tomatoes were grown in Scotland and he was able to obtain some now and again, also he did, about twice coming home from Scotland on Christmas Eve find a kind farmer who was willing to sell him a goose. This was joy indeed, my mother and I having to pluck and draw it ready for consumption on Christmas Day.
It was during this time that my mother and I made the acquaintance of an elderly Dutch lady who was living near by. She had managed to escape from Holland when they were invaded and came to England, hoping to get to her daughter in America. Unfortunately, with the war on here she couldn't get any further. And so to help pass the time away she was learning to knit. Although she spoke excellent English, ( with a very heavy accent) she found great difficulty trying to read English knitting patterns. With this we were able to help her, and for this she was extremely grateful. We became quite good friends, and remained so. After the war she finally went to her daughter, but we still corresponded until she died.
My crane driving career came to an end at the beginning of 1943 when we left Sparkhill. We were fortunate indeed to find a house that we liked very much in Brandwood End. It was a newish three-bed roomed semi-detached, only just finished being built at the outbreak of the war. This was a new area between the borders of Kings Heath and Kings Norton. There were no made up roads, and no street lighting, this didn't matter because of the black-out. I was very fond of this house and we lived there for many years.
Sadness and anxiety came to us in 1944.This was when, early in the year my husband was taken ill in Scotland .He managed to get down to Carlisle but was then rushed into hospital there with acute appendicitis. After an emergency operation and about two weeks there he came back home by train. Then followed a few weeks convalescence, before returning to work...Shortly afterwards our first baby was born. A tiny boy, a little premature, and damaged during the birth, he lived only two days, To make matters worse for me Reg, was away from home at the time having been sent up to Scotland. He was home again as soon possible after hearing the news. Obviously a crushing blow to us, this was followed later by my having a miscarriage. This affected me badly, both mentally and physically, and my recovery was very slow.
It was around this time that my Mother received the dreadful news that my brother had been wounded in the jungle in Burma..Later, news came that he was now in hospital in Poona. He had survived his wounds and would be sent back to England by hospital ship as soon as he was well enough. His injuries had been very serious. He had survived, but he died later after the war at the very early age of fifty-four. When news came that he was going to be sent home, of course we were all overjoyed, and started to make what preparations we could to give him a good welcome. This was helped enormously by the very unexpected gift of a chicken. A near neighbour of ours, who kept chickens in her back garden called in one day and asked if we would like a chicken,- then came the catch. This poor little chicken had as she put it "Gone of it's legs" Just why it had gone of it's legs she didn't know, neither of course did we, and neither did we care. We accepted it gratefully and kept the poor little thing alive in a basket in our sitting room until my brother's anxiously awaited return. My unfortunate father had the unenviable task of killing the said chicken, and we all had such a feast. I still shudder to this day when I recall eating that chicken, but I don't think we suffered any ill effects. Another sad event in our family in 1944 was the death of my grandfather. He was almost eighty years of age and I had grown up with his presence in our midst and so he was very much mourned.
By now the war in Europe had greatly changed. Hitler's assault on Russia was being repulsed. The D-day invasions had taken place, and we British people were beginning to feel that there was light at last in sight.
In the Spring of 1945, still not feeling quite up to standard I took an impulsive step. Passing the local garden centre one day, I spotted a request notice in the window for gardening help .Not an occupation that I had ever indulged in before or even contemplated. Here goes, I thought, I'll pop in and try my luck. Totally inexperienced, I was accepted, man power being very short by now. They agreed to employ me for four hours per day at the huge wage of one shilling per hour, five days per week. This gave me one pound weekly. I really enjoyed my new project. I learned all about growing and tending tomatoes, etc. This gave me a new lease of life, I discovered that gardening, particularly vegetable gardening was not only interesting, but quite profitable. too. I then of course soon wanted a greenhouse. This was provided later by my husband searching around for any second-hand wood that he could find and gradually managed to build a small lean-to affair that served my purpose for many years to come. The summer of 1945 brought to an end the six years of hardship, death, heartbreak, mass extermination, and cruelty beyond comprehension. There were still hardships ahead. Food shortages continued, and the war in the far east still to be won,-but-the Nazi's were crushed and Hitler was dead. The world rejoiced.

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