Wartime Teenager

I was 13 when World War 2 began. I was sitting with my Dad and my brother in the garden of our house, filling sandbags to pack around our newly installed Anderson Shelter when Neville Chamberlain made his historic broadcast, signalling the beginning of the war.

Schoolchildren were advised via the wireless that we should not go to school until informed. It was not long before we were informed that I had to report to a house near my school at 9am. When I arrived there, I found that about twelve of us - I think we were the ones who would be taking the East Midlands Educational Union Exam the following year - were to be taught each morning in a private house.

We sat around a dining table, with the teacher, Miss Guttridge, at the head, and we had our lesson. We did not have to return to lessons in the afternoon. There may have been other scholars in the afternoon, but I am not sure.

After two or three weeks being taught in this fashion, our school - Guilford Girls School, Nottingha, - re-opened. Air Raid Shelters had been built, and lessons were often interrupted by the sound of the air raid siren - or by an "in hous" signal for air raid practice. We would proceed to the Shelter, and either have a sing-song, or recite tables, or play work games.

The war had no other impact on us at that time, and in due course we took our exams - and we all passed! I also took an entrance exam for the Gregg Business College, along with my best friend. We passed, and having left school at the age of 14 in July 1940, we started at the Gregg Business College, Shakespeare Street, Nottingham, in September, 1940.

Because of the blackout, the hours were changed, so that we started earler in the morning, about 8.30am, and finished at about 2.30pm. This meant that as the shorter days came along, no-one would be going home after dark. We always had homework, though.

After six months learning shorthand, typing, double-entry book-keeping and office management, I took a job at the Co-op. Insurance Society, on Victoria Street, Nottingham. As I had only completed 6 months of the year for which my parents had paid at the Gregg College, I had to complete the time at their evening classes. I passed exams in shorthand and typing.

I was the Office Junion at the CIS, but I enjoyed my work, and got on very well with the other girls, who were all older than me.
As time went on, the other girls were "called up" either into the forces, or to undertake "work of National Importance".
I therefore progressed up the Office, and other girls were set on and became jumior to me, although they were not very much younger than I was!

My father worked at Wm. Hickling and Son, Wine and Spirit Merchants, of Chapel Bar, Nottingham, and he had to take his turn at Firewatching - spending the night at work with another employee, in case of incendiary bombs being dropped. All employees were trained in dealing with these.

One night, when my father was on duty, my mother, brother and I were sleeping in the living room of our home. (We had been advised by the Government that this was safer than being upstairs in bed). My brother, Ross and I were in bed when the air raid siren sounded. Mother was restless. She said she could hear "whistling noises" - but my brother said it must be because our planes were flying low because of cloud and she could hear the wind whistling in their wings. I don't know if she believed him, but I did! She also said she could hear loud "bumps", but was reassured by Ross that this was the guns at Balloon Woods.

Eventually, the All Clear sounded, and we were able to get some sleep.

When Dad arrived home at about 7 am, he said that Nottingham had had an air raid. I did not believe him! He said that a bomb had dropped almost outside Hicklings - opposite the Carlton Cinema, on Chapel Bar. Still I did not believe him!

The date was the 9th May, 1941 - the date of the worst air raid on Nottingham.

I caught a bus to go to work, and as it travelled down Wollaton Street, everywhere was littered with glass from broken windows. I began to believe my Dad! When I arrived at work, at the top of Victoria Street, all my colleagues were talking of the air raid. Later in the morning, we all went onto the roof of our building, and we could see the many hoses being used by the Fire Service to put out fires in the Lace Market. All that day we could hear the sound of the water being pumped through the hoses.

When I arrived home, and read the Evening Post, I learned of the extent of the raid, and the loss of lives in the Co-op Bakery, which had been hit.

This brought the war so much nearer to me.
Then both my brothers were "called up" - Eric went into the Army, and Ross into the Royal Air Force. I tried to do my bit by volunteering to collect "A Penny A Week" for the Red Cross. I went with my collecting tin round Ainsly Estate and along Western Boulevard, every Friday evening - and no-one begrudged a penny, as the Red Cross Ambulance Brigade did such wonderful work amongst "our lads".

When I was sixteen, I joined the St. John Ambulance Brigade, along with a friend, Joan, who lived next-door-but-one. We received training in First Aid and Home Nursing, and we undertook exams in these areas. Once we were proficient, we could go on duty - with an experienced Officer. We would go to a Cinema - the Ritz or the Carlton - or to the Theatre Royal. We always used to hope that no-one would be taken ill, as we were able to watch the film or the show without paying! If there was an emergency, the Officer took charge, and we were just there to help and to learn.

We also went on duty at the various hospitals. I remember my first duty at the Womens' Hospital, Peel Street. I was put in the Margaret Jenny Player Ward - a maternity ward. First of all I had to set the tea trays for the patients; then I was asked to put up the blackouts. These were unweildy things, and I had no idea what I was doing. One of the expectant mums got out of bed and helped me! I would have been in great trouble if Sister had seen me!

When I was seventenn, my elder brother, Eric, introduced me to the Youth Hostels Association, and the Cyclists Touring Club. He took me to the Clubroom, on Parliament Street, when he was on leave, and lent something mechanical to a friend of his. I was told to collect it the following week, as if belonged at home.

I therefore had no choice but to go along the following week to collect this article. I was rather shy, but a group of girls took me under their wing, and I went dancing with them the following night at the Palais. Within a week I had bought a bike, and appropriate clothing - with a bit of help from Mum - and on the Saturday I cycled off to Ilam Youth Hostel, near Dovedale, in Derbyshire. After that we went cycling or hiking every weekend, in all weathers.

As petrol was rationed, there was very little traffic on the roads during the war. There were few cars, but often a convoy of Army lorries would pass us, and the soldiers on them would call out to us as we cycled along in our shorts!

We used to listen to the news at home, and I can remember how delighted we were when our bombers had been over German towns. I never gave a thought to the fact that ordinary people were being killed - it seemed at the time that we were "giving them a taste of their own medicine".

I was almost nineteen when the war ended. Through one of the girls with whom I had gone cycling, I had met her brother, a soldier in the 6th Airborne division, and at the age of 21 I married him.

Altogether, the war was not an unhappy time for me - apart from worrying about my brothers, and then my sweetheart.

My teenage years were very different from those of to-days teenagers.

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