Bill's Memories: Chapter 1 -The Beginning.

Bill’s Memories (William Young, born 4th March 1914, Thurcroft, Rotherham, South Yorkshire.)

My twin brother, John had been called up for the army and I felt a bit left out as being twins he was on his way to war and I wondered when they would send for me. I left the pit hoping it would increase my chances and bring my call-up forward and sure enough it did. When I left the pit I got a job at the Royal Ordnance factory at Maltby putting down water mains. I was only there three weeks when I got my call up papers. I went to Sheffield for my exams. Out of each five recruits that went on call there they took three for the army, one for the navy and one for the air force. My prayers were answered when I went in front of the navy board - a retired Lt. Commander and two other officers. After I passed the initial tests I was accepted into the navy. I was to go to Torpoint in Cornwall to H.M.S. Raleigh, a training establishment. They gave me papers for the train journey and introductory papers for when I reached there. And what a train ride it was — an epic ride, 16 hours. I thought I was never going to get there. Delays were caused by having to stop outside stations for air raid sirens warning the trains to stop until the all clear sounded. When we finally arrived at seven am. I was bleary eyed and dog tired. I gave my papers to the Petty Officer who met us, who said “This way lads there’s tea and breakfast for you and then it’s on the ferry to Cornwall Torpoint.” Finally an hour later we reached our destination. We were sent to our billet which was to be home for the next ten weeks and given the rest of the day off. After a shower, shave, shampoo!! etc. I slept!

There were thirty new blokes in our billet. It takes all sorts in the forces and in our team were office workers, railwaymen, another miner beside myself and I thought that those who had it cushy in civilian life took it the hardest. At 6:30am. we were wakened by a bugle and I wondered where I was. I soon found out. A Petty Officer stormed in “Everybody out!” Wash, shave and breakfast and then kitting out into navy gear. We soon got into a routine. i.e. marching, gunnery drill and other chores. I was enjoying navy life except for the waiting and wondering what sort of ship I would eventually go on. It was to be some time yet — when we had finished training and looked like sailors.

From Torpoint I went to H.M.S. Devonport in Plymouth. It was to be my regular depot. No matter what ship I eventually went on, after I completed duty it was where I would return. But a lot was to happen before then, little did I contemplate, as I was just a bit wet behind the ears, so to speak.
I went on different shoots, with guns up to six inch and small arms, when one day the blower went. “Would Able Seaman Young report to the Draft Office?” This is it I thought. However, with a mate from Bradford, I had to go to another Gunnery establishment — the Flying Fox — in the Bristol Channel. We thought it would be a change from a shore base but we had another great train ride to get there. I was liking train journeys by then. Yuck! We got there eventually and reported on board. We had had enough of lugging our kitbags, cases and hammocks, which were to accompany us wherever we went. (We did not know how far they were to go with us in our navy life).
Then came another test. How would we do? Both of us passed and I got 93%, which was very good. I had passed my Leading Seaman’s badge and also got my Gun layers badge, which I could stitch on my uniform and wore, with pride. We celebrated in the local pub but when are we going to get a ship and go to sea?

By this time it was May 1941. On the 4th of May we heard on the intercom to report to the draft office, we had to go to Hull as a ship was there for us. In passing, before we went, the Gunners Mate, who was in charge, gave us this advice — “Wherever you go, act green, keep clean and never put your ‘brush’ in a dirty paintpot!” We understood what he meant, as there were plenty of pros hanging about where sailors were.

We never knew what war was until we arrived at Hull, but we were soon to know. The Commander of the docks, who we reported to, told us to stow our gear in a lock-up on the docks and then make our way to the ‘Ethelreda’ Seamen’s Mission Hall. The ship we were to sail in was in dry dock for overhaul and new gun emplacements. We had to report to the Dock Commander for roll call 9am. prompt, and after a short spell of chores and dockside patrol we were dismissed and the rest of the day was our own. It was the day we were to learn what war was all about.
On the 8th May 1941 it happened. We went to the pictures and then for a pint in a pub nearby. The picture was called “Gasbags” It was a great laugh with the Crazy Gang in it and a pint in the pub afterwards topped it up. We had just got back to our billet at the Mission Hall when the air raid sirens went and before they had finished all hell broke loose and I mean “HELL.” Bombs were dropping all over Hull, there was nowhere to go but to stay put where we were. I’ll admit I was really scared along with the others. One senior to me, who had served in the navy before the war, broke down and cried. He had a family at home and was thinking of them, I suppose. One bloke told him to pull himself together and set an example for us. The air raid lasted about 2 hours. We made some tea and that cheered us up no end. Some actually went out to have a look, but all there was to see were fires everywhere and the smell of burnt powder from the bombs that had gone off. After things had quietened down and the “All clear” had sounded, we decided how nice another cup of tea would go down. Impossible without water. A bomb has burst the water main lower down the street. It seemed hours before daylight and when it came we were horrified at the destruction all around us and how lucky we had been that night. How near the bombs had dropped. At 6am. knowing we had to present ourselves for roll call we went to look for water to wash and shave. There was lots’ coming from the burst water main. I had taken a bucket and filled it to wash and make some tea after. I was towelling myself down when I saw a ‘miracle’ happen. Well to me it was. Opposite from the main, a house had been completely flattened and while I was wiping my face I was amazed to see a black cat come out of the ruins with a kitten in its mouth and run off. It looked terrified and one of the lads tried to catch it. He could have caught a train easier.
We were to report to the docks again as usual for roll call, all except one. We said we did not know where he was, but actually we did. This lad was called ‘Horatio Smithson.’ He’d had a telegram to say his mum was dying but leave was refused him, so that night he went AWOL and I never saw him again for 2 years. The Cmdr. told me to take six men and try to help around the city. I marched them off to see the damage that was caused and to assist anyone who needed help. We first came across an old man who was bomb shocked. He was shaking and full of nerves. We took him to the hospital and were stunned by the number of casualties. There were doctors, nurses and the Red Cross working flat out. After we had safely left him, we went to a small shop to help a grocer whose shop had been bombed and we helped load a lot of perishable goods — bags and sacks of sugar, flour etc. onto a horse and cart, and anything else we could, as they were on ration and were very important to save. The grocer offered us a couple of pounds for our effort and we tried to refuse it but he was insistent on our taking it. Now £2 was like a tenner at today’s prices and we had some beer that night. We thought, looking at all the damage done all over, the bombers would not come again as there seemed very little left. But we went to a pub not far from our billet, just in case the bombers returned. We had just got back as the sirens went and you could hear the planes droning above. It lasted roughly two hours again. We felt trapped and had no weapons to fight back with, although anti-aircraft guns were blasting back at them, we did not feel any safer. My dad was convalescing at Scalby, 36 miles away, told me later that he could see the glow of the fires from there. (This was when I was on leave 14 months later).

We were in a right tacking when we reported back to the dock Cmdr for roll call. He said I want six volunteers for a special assignment. “That is you, you and you!” pointing to us. “Get a rifle each from the stores, each of you and march down to the end of the dock road. You’ll be met by an army officer who will give your orders.” We were a bit puzzled by this but we were soon to find out. An army chap met us and took us to the site of an unexploded land mine that had had failed to go off. It was huge, complete with a parachute attached. He shook hands with us and said “I want you chaps to form a circle round it at 18 yards apart from it and shoot any bugger who comes near. My chaps are coming along to disarm the bloody thing.” After the bombing that night we felt great. Then he sent an army chap for some tea, he said we looked as if we could do with one. “I’m gagging,” he said. We formed an 18-yard circle and waited. Along came some army staff in a jeep, with tools to disarm the bomb and some tea. It took two hours to make it safe. That officer was a great expert at the job. Me and my mate got a rope off the chute which was made of spun flax almost like satin. We marched back to the docks, there was tea, soup or anything we wanted. Then the Cmdr dropped a bombshell saying !I’ve been and had a look at your billet and condemned it. It’s not safe. I don’t know where you’re sleeping tonight, but you’re not to kip there!” Me and my mate looked at one another and the rest the same. “Take the rest of the day off and find somewhere else.”

When we left we felt like abandoned waifs, so we went to fetch our stuff from the Mission Hall and went down the town. My mate at the time was called Jack Cunningham and what a good mate he was. Always good for a laugh. When it got to opening time we called at a pub called ‘The Nags Head’ and asked for a couple of pints. The landlord said “have them on me. Are you hungry? If cheese and pickles will suit you?” we thanked him. We had nearly finished our pints when the landlord said “sup up chaps you have had two more paid for.” He pointed to a man and his wife who later asked if we would like to join them. We did. After we had introduced ourselves, the conversation got on about the bombing. We told them about our predicament and not being able to go back to our billet anymore. Straight away they said “good then you can come back with us to our farm, which is about 2 miles outside the city.” It turned out that they were both professors at an experimental farm at Bilton. They were called Catherine and Hugh MacFazdean, really grand people to know. Their job was going round different farms telling them how best to feed their cattle on wartime measures as feed was rationed as well.

They took us in the car with them back to the farm. While we were having a coffee, Cath made us a bed up. We were dog-tired after two nights with the bombing and chatting quite a while after — I was nodding off, she showed us our room. It was really posh, a huge double bed and a thick eiderdown that would put any duvet to shame. “You can have a shower first if you want one.” I accepted and had a really good one. She left a dressing gown each, also pyjamas. I rolled into bed and then the trouble began. My mate Jack had no sooner hit the pillow and was snoring his ‘bloody head off’ and I mean snore — the curtains moved up and down. I thought God what a night this is going to be, so I got out, took a pillow and slept on the thick carpet on the floor, and slept like a good ‘un. At 9 o’clock she woke us and asked me about sleeping on the floor. I told her the bed was too comfortable. I asked the time, she said it was 9 o’clock. I said we would get shot for not reporting on the dockside by nine. She told us she had been on the phone to the Dock Cmdr and made it alright. Then we had real bacon and eggs, the best I’d had for ‘yonks,’ toast and marmalade to fill the gap. They drove us back to the docks and shook hands and parted. I gave them the rope I got off that landmine and they thanked me and said they would make two dressing gown belts with them. Where did they come from those people? Inverness??

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