Ruby's Memoirs

11. Working for the War effort

We were now in the middle of the most disastrous times of the war. The news was always bad, at home the bombing of Coventry Cathedral stands out in my memory, and the sight of the devastation of so many lovely old churches, and the Houses of Parliament, the Great Hall at Westminster, to name but a few, I can still remember the loss seemed to be irredeemable at that time.

However now we knew what we were in for the nation seemed more united than ever. I think we all just lived for today. We had stood alone for many months with our colonies. Refugees from overrun Europe were arriving here, some to make their home amongst us and some making their way across the Atlantic to pastures new. One kept up with the news on the BBC which was pretty accurate but we were only told as much as was allowed. There were some fine News Readers, John Snagge was one I remember well but he was only one of many who became famous. On a few occasions we had Churchill delivering some of his well known “pep talks”. Everyone was anxious to hear what he said and even the crowded pubs stopped serving and everyone was silent, you could hear a pin drop, until he finished when he was cheered and eulogised before there was a rush to the bar. He spread hope for a rather war weary nation.

The call up was still going on and I remember mine well, they had reached my age group in “the thirties”. I was told that the ATS, WRENS and the WAAF’s were full, that left your only choice the Factories, so for this I signed on for war work, and waited for the call. In the meantime while relating to some friends that I was down for factory work, they suggested that I worked for them in their factory which made clothing for export but also had a Contract with the Government for women's uniforms for the forces. This seemed to me to be better than in the Ball Bearing Factory at Luton where I should surely be sent, so I started my factory life the next day, and as I was already working when I received my papers, I was allowed to continue there. It was quite an experience as I learnt all about machining, pressing under steam, hemming and “sewing on” of buttons. All I have found useful ever since. After a few months I became an examiner of the finished article, and another girl and I were used as models when needed. There was another part of the factory where civilian clothes were made for “EXPORT ONLY”. This sign was everywhere and this was quite exciting as we were sent off to do our stint on the cat-walk to show models off to overseas buyers, mainly American of course. It was wonderful to handle some good fashionable clothes again after rails and rails of uniforms. This didn’t come round very often, but it was a great break from the usual day of factory life when the only change there was having a tea-break with Workers Playtime blasting out the latest Pop Songs such as I’ll see you again, The last time I saw Paris, If I should fall in love again and many others.

And so the months went by. My husband worked in London in his father's office where they had an agency for coal, industrial and domestic, and another one in a mining town in the collieries, so we were a very busy household. I had my first land girl, also the mother of an old friend of ours who was killed in the Battle of Britain who came to stay as she lived in a town on the Thames Estuary and her house was bombed, her son was dead and she really had nowhere to go. She was a gem, we called her Auntie Poppy, and was known to everyone as that. One of my dogs died during an air raid and my beloved airedale had to be put down at the age of 10, he missed his companion, food was scarce and he didn’t like scraps much, and got very bewildered with bombs, and strangers in and out of our house, and often I didn’t get home in time to give him the exercise he was used to “Over the hills and far away” so it was very sad but seemed a small thing when so many had lost their loved ones.
We were now living in a bungalow built on top of the Hill overlooking the village and were always known as “The folks that live up the Hill”, a cue for a song I think! My husband had joined the Home Guard, he was the Colonel’s Adjutant, I don’t know what he did, but as the Old Boy hadn’t a car he always seemed to be taking him somewhere and as their headquarters were at the Golf Club which was quite close to a pub known as The Busted Duck by the locals, I never really knew its real name, I was pretty certain I should be able to contact him if necessary.

There was fire watching to be done at the offices at Kings Cross, names were on a rota in twos so as it was in London I travelled up there after work to do my turn as well. When there was a raid it was quite scary on top of this tall building, waiting for something to happen then to locate it and send a runner down to A.R.W. then he informed the fire brigade. As you were supposed to take cover during the raid it was rather difficult to see where the bomb dropped until the fire started. However such was the stupidity of rules and regulations. Nobody took much notice of them anyway. After this got into swing the raids on London were not very frequent, they were concentrated on large cities and towns all over the country so our fire watching soon turned into a night out in the nearest pub so when the warning went off there was a general rush to take up positions with a tin hat if you could find one.

In the village we had a hit on the church, it hit one side and blew quite a large hole in the grave yard. This was quickly cordoned off as quite a few graves had their contents scattered and so was boarded up for some time. I don’t think this worried many of the villagers as one fell on the local village shoe shop when boots and shoes were scattered all over the area. There were hilarious stories of people rushing about in the dark trying to find a pair that matched. I think the stories didn’t lose much in the telling, but it was very amusing at the time and there were no casualties. There was one that dropped at the bottom of our garden, but did not go off. I had my chickens there so perhaps it was as well otherwise we might have had people looking for a dinner amongst the “cabbages and peas”. This happened on a Saturday night and next morning we had the Bomb Disposal Unit round to defuse it. We had been to a party the previous night with some American soldiers who were always very generous with their supplies they got from their families in the USA and had given us some rashers of bacon (we hadn’t seen anything like this for ages) so decided on a good old Sunday breakfast of bacon and egg. The Bomb Squad arrived and after telling us to evacuate while they inspected the bomb, they left and went about their job. We both said “Blow them” or words to that effect, we’d have our breakfast first. Fortunately it was quickly rendered “harmless”, the bomb I mean, and we were left in peace to enjoy our treat. It just shows how careless of bombs we had become.

Ruby Bullock
• to be continued.