MY LIFE AND TIMES - THE BEVIN BOY'S STORY 1945 - Part 6

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk — Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Dennis Faulkner and has been added to the site with the author’s permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

CHAPTER 1. ARRIVAL AND TRAINING.
I stated in My Life and Times as a BBC Engineer, that I departed from Croydon by rail for Cardiff on the 8th January 1945. This was a Monday and a bus was waiting to transport me, and a motley selection of other poor unfortunates that had fallen victim to the irrational Wartime Order issued by Ernest Bevin, a Labour Politician and himself a Welshman, serving as Minister of Labour in Winston Churchill's wartime coalition Government.

I mentioned in my first volume that this order was to redress the acute shortage of coalminers, most of whom who were of military age had been called up into the armed forces. The effect of the order was that one in every ten on the call-up lists was to be diverted to coal mining, irrespective of their trade or profession. Hence we were known as `Bevin Boys'. The procedure was a lottery. Ten slips of paper, each bearing a number from 0 to 9, were put in a hat by Ernest Bevin, who then called one of his secretaries to make the draw. Every youth of 17½ whose National Service registration number ended with the number drawn HAD to go into the mines, whether or not he wanted to. From 1943 to when the scheme ended in 1948, some 45,000 had been drafted this way. Many had never experienced heavy manual work, and to be drafted into the toughest industry of any was simply ridiculous.

'Bevin Boys' had no privileges and received a pay rate as a Trainee (or apprentice), of about £3.10s per week gross. From this was taken National Insurance, Union dues (we all had to join the mineworkers union), and even Income Tax! We also had to pay for our 'lodgings' at £1.5s. per week. This rate of pay was far less than the skilled miner they were working alongside, and for the most part, doing the same dirty, filthy hard graft.

Some misinformed people openly abused us as `Shirkers' or `Draft Dodgers'. This hurt, as we had no control over it, and in most cases would have been happy in the armed forces.

The bus took us to a specially constructed hostel at a place named Rhydyfelin, about ten miles from Cardiff on the Pontypridd Road. It consisted of a number of unconnected single storey buildings. One was a reception and recreation area with the mess hall, and a lounge plus a library, and a small shop for toiletries etc. Most of the others were dormitories, sleeping about twelve or so, together with adjacent lockers. There were shower rooms etc. for each dormitory block. They were all heated, which was just as well in January! The accommodation was quite good. I cannot remember much about the food, so it obviously made no impression on me one way or another! In those days you ate anything put in front of you. In addition there were laundry facilities, staff quarters, and a sick bay with a matron and a couple of nurses, or orderlies.

The following day we had an introductory talk, and told the routine etc. We were then bussed to Oakdale near Blackwood in the Ebbw Valley, to the Training Centre.
Here was a disused pit that was now a training school for Bevin Boys. We saw our first sight of Winding Wheels, Engine Rooms, Shaft Heads and all the other paraphernalia that made up a coal mine. In the `stock room' we were each kitted out with overalls, a belt from which to hang your safety lamp, safety boots with steel toe caps and a safety helmet. In future, each morning on arrival, we went through the `Bathhouse Procedure'. Here we entered the `Clean Area' where we stripped off completely, placed all our clean clothes into a designated locker, collected our soap, scrubbing brush and towel and whatever else was required, and then processed naked, along the corridor round the shower room to the 'Dirty Area'. Here was another locker from which you dressed in your working clothes and boots, left your shower goods, and proceeded to work.

There were classroom sessions, Ministry of Labour films, tours of the surface areas, and underground operations with all the many dangers being pointed out. The operation of the `Roads' was explained and the need to keep all 'air doors' closed. This is in order to maintain the correct flow of air through the workings. We were shown the operation of the winding house, the cage and the multifarious surface machinery. None of this was in actual use so there was little dust and dirt about.

We al1 had to do PT in order to `strengthen us up and get us fit!' This was not a deep pit, the journey to the bottom of the shaft being quite short and not fast. The `roads' along which we were taken were not at all dirty, so that when we returned to the surface we were all quite clean! This was not to last when we started at our designated pits later on! On one occasion, a small group of us were taken into the pit yard where there were large piles of small coal. Given shovels, we were told to move it all from point 'A' to point `B', a shovel throw away. This took an hour or so, and when completed, were told to shovel it all back again! A few blistered hands ensued.

The week's training finished on a Saturday at mid-day. However quite a few decided to go home on Friday evening, and I was one. I went home to Gloucester to see my parents on the very first weekend, returning to the hostel on Sunday. There were no recriminations for being absent without leave. As we were civilians, the worst they could do was to deduct a day's pay.

On the Wednesday of the second week, I sprained my legs during strenuous PT and had to have time off. I was however, fit enough to go home again at the weekend!

Very heavy snow fell on the Sunday following and continued for several days. By the Wednesday, road traffic was unable to run, we thus had a day off. The next day we awoke to find three feet of snow reaching up to the window sills! The hostel was beginning to run short of food and coal. We were told that if we could make it, we should attempt to go home. I trudged through this deep snow to the little local railway station. The line was fortunately on a high embankment and had very little snow lying. As I enquired if there may be a train running to Cardiff from Pontypridd, a small tank engine slowly arrived with one composite coach! It proceeded very slowly and eventually arrived in Cardiff where there was little snow. I arrived in Gloucester six hours after I had set out! A distance of only some fifty miles.

I returned to the hostel the following Monday, the 29th January to find the snow frozen hard and still no transport to the training centre. I also developed a sore throat and a high temperature. A doctor diagnosed it as tonsillitis. I was whipped into quarantine in the sick-bay and given only fluids. It was an awful time. The following Monday, the 5th February, I was feeling better and allowed up and about. About mid-day I was told I had a visitor. My mother had turned up! I found this to be quite extraordinary, as she had no idea how to get there other than making enquiries. I think she was very courageous. After an examination by the doctor, I was allowed to go home with my mother, on 'sick-leave' for a week. Without her intervention I would not have been allowed out.

A day or so later I was feeling much better. I decided to travel to Croydon for a few days and visit BBC Tatsfield. I even went in with my `old' shift on a night shift. This was a very nice time for me and took away some of the depression I had.
I returned to the hostel at the weekend and on the Monday was put into my fourth training week, even though I had missed so much time. Shrove Tuesday came on the 13th and went by without any pancakes! That week I completed my so-called training. I then had the weekend at home before returning to my real posting.

At the Labour Exchange in Pontypridd, on Monday 19th February, I was assigned to and 'signed-on' to work underground at 'Deep Duffryn' pit in the small mining town of Mountain Ash, which lies about half way up the Aberdare valley. Just a short distance over a hill to the east of Mountain Ash is Aberfan, in the Merthyr Valley, where, in 1966, that awful disaster took place when a whole mountainside of slag slid down and overwhelmed a school and houses. Of the 144 dead, 116 were children.

I was assigned to lodgings with an Irish family who lived in Cliffe Street. Mr. Keheller was a miner who worked in a different pit. Mrs. Keheller had a green grocery next to the house. They had two married daughters, and a school age son, Joseph. One daughter lived in Aberdare and had recently had a baby. The second, Kathleen, lived at home. Her husband was a prisoner of war held by the Japanese in the far-east. She worried a lot about him. One could sympathise with her concerning his treatment, as the news that came from there was awful.

So there I was, an Englishman, lodging with an Irish family in South Wales! They were very kind and understanding

CHAPTER 2. AT THE SHARP END.
Tuesday 20th February, my 19th official birthday, was my induction to `Deep Duffryn'! I was roused at 6.Oam, had breakfast, given a tin `snapbox' with my sandwiches and a two-pint water bottle. I also took a bag containing a large towel, some soap, a scrubbing brush and a comb. I had been allocated lockers for my gear the day before; and had been shown what I needed to know about the procedures. I then walked to the pit-head. On arrival I followed the others and changed into my working clothes and headed for the lamp room. On entry, you collect a `tag', then pass through the lamp room where you exchange your `tag' for a hand lamp. This is a heavy metal safety lamp about sixteen inches high with the actual lamp chamber at the top. It weighed about eleven pounds and had a large metal carrying handle. It was switched on when it was given to you by a twist-switch in the base. All of this took place before 7.Oam, the time allocated for descent to begin.

I followed the others to the pit-head cages. There were two of these, side by side; as one lowered, the other raised. They were used for transporting men at the beginning and end of shifts only. At all other times they carried the coal trucks. They were large enough to hold four coal trucks. I seem to remember that about twenty men were squeezed in.

The inner gates slammed down, then the outer ones. The journey started slowly at first and gradually increased speed until it was moving down at about sixty miles per hour! The air rushed past, almost taking your breath away. Looking up, you could see the lights at the top becoming smaller. On arrival at the bottom of this 1000+ feet deep shaft you were in a very large well-lit area, with white- washed walls. I was introduced to the pit 'Deputy', who was the boss down here in the bowels of the earth. He introduced me to a smallish chap with whom I was to work at the coal-face. (NOTE: In later years , when a member of The Bevin Boys' Association, I learned that very few Bevin Boys were employed directly on the coal-face. Only some 13.4%)

He was, apparently a single man who lived with his mother. He also had a reputation of being very keen and wanted to move as much coal as possible in a shift. He was not satisfied unless it was more than twelve tons. This earned him a big bonus. The bonus earned was all paid to him even though we had both worked for it. He would then give me whatever he considered was reasonable. I can confirm that the amount I received at any time did not make me rich! I had to go to the miners' working men's club on a Sunday morning to collect this, otherwise I did not get it! The club was the only place open on Sundays in Wales that served alcohol, as all the public houses were closed that day. If he was in a good mood he would buy me a small cider, sometimes! Fortunately we were assigned to a six-foot seam, so we could at least walk normally and stand up when at the coal face. Others were not so fortunate and worked in seams only three feet high, on their hands and knees! How the devil they did not go mad I do not know. I think I would have done. It was bad enough as it was for me.

I then followed my 'Butty' (Welsh for mate) to the roadway along which we were to walk to the face. We passed the stables, which were also large, whitewashed, and well lit. I was surprised to see the size of these 'ponies'. They were the size of carthorses! I was warned that these beasts would not stop once in motion along a roadway. If you were in one and heard them coming, you quickly found a safety chamber in the wall of the roadway, and waited for them to pass.

Pr-BR

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