Memories of a child in Wartime – Part 2
By Actiondesk Sheffield
People in story: Joyce Emms
Location of story: Darnall, Sheffield, Yorkshire
Background to story: Civilian
This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk – Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Joyce Emms and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
Memories of a child in Wartime – Part 2
By
Joyce Emms
The four of us duly took our 11+ and despite the break in our Education on Home Service we all passed. We had been constant schoolmates from being four and a half years old when we all started school, we'd never been close friends and apart from myself and my swimming pal we all chose different Grammar Schools so our paths only crossed in rarely in later life. We had shared so much and now we all went our separate ways.
I had to travel on two trams to get to my new school, Abbeydale Grange Grammar School, but there was another girl older than me who lived in our street so we went to school together. Mum nearly had a fit when she discovered the school had been bombed. Because it was such a new building set amongst woods and fields, also it was an unusual shape, every corridor was built next to a garden, they thought it had been mistaken for a nursing home for wounded men. There were no factories or other targets nearby so maybe this was the explanation. Mum was not happy.
After the first year we were put into streams. If we were good at most subjects we were in the "A" group, if not as bright but not bad it was the first of the "B" group, these children did not get to take another language besides French but got extra help with their Maths. If it was thought they were not too bright they ended up a class that taught them Domestic Science instead of any extra academic subjects. The classes were given "A" , "Alpha" , "B" and "Beta". You could choose between Latin or German for the second language after French in the "A" groups.
I chose German, so went into "Alpha". It was funny really looking back because people used to say that Latin was a dead language and that German would be after the war.
I did well at school, but I had one regret, we had swimming lessons after school at King Edwards Bath. It was a beautiful pool, belonging to the boys' school. They used one of our fields for their sports so we used their bath. The friends I travelled home with did not want to go swimming after school so mum would not let me travel home alone. My swimming was never the same, without practice I quickly lost a lot of my earlier promise.
Some of the classes went into Lincolnshire for two weeks to help the farmers with various tasks. We didn't get the first time and they weren't going to send our class the following year so we all objected and went to see the Headmistress saying it wasn't fair that because we were bright pupils it was thought our education was too important. It seemed as though we were being punished far working hard and we didn't think this was right.
In the end she saw our point of view and we were allowed to go. I then had to go home and convince my mum to let me go, dad was on my side saying what harm could come to us in the country. What none of us knew was that we were surrounded by Aerodromes and that D-Day was to start while we were there. We didn't know what was happening and used to stop our tasks on the farms to look at all the aeroplanes flying what appeared to be just over our heads. One of the planes turned when he saw us waving our hoes, it was an American Flying Fortress, as it came down lower over us we all dived into the hedge. The farmer's wife said she saw the pilot waving to us, I'm not actually sure if this is possible, but we were all sorry we'd not stayed and watched this amazing plane. Many years later at a display with my son I saw a Concorde fly over us all and this had the same shock effect, the noise and the size reminded me of the incident when I was a schoolgirl.
The first task, my four friends and myself, were given was hilarious. Our farmer had collected us in a beautiful big car, the others before us had all been on the back of lorries.
When we got to the field, we were miles away from anywhere and the only building was an old barn where the farmer said we were to eat our lunch. The only other thing in the field was an enormous pile of manure and four big forks. He showed us how to spread the manure over the field and then left us. At first we tackled it very gingerly, being so careful not to get too close. After about an hour of this, we were so fed up we just ploughed into the stuff and slung it about with great abandon, Brenda one of my best mates even fell on the pile!!!
We duly had our lunch, carrot and raisin sandwiches (we had sadly got the Science teachers) plus manure relish.
When the farmer collected us he was astounded. His intention had been for us to do the task all our two weeks, ten working days, instead we'd done it in one. After this we worked alongside his wife hoeing the weeds that grew in between the sugar beet, I think he was scared of killing us with work if we worked alone. We were the first group of schoolgirls he'd had.
When we returned to the village schoolroom where we slept the rest of our colleagues were nearly all sick with the stench. The teachers insisted we got into the showers first; they didn't want the hot water to run out before we were fumigated. Before we left the headmistresses study she had told us there was to be no talking to the village boys, most of us weren't interested in boys so we thought this would be no problem. Neither she, nor us, reckoned on the two teachers, they may not have been as good with the food as the Games Teachers but when we started to play cricket the boys who were watching were invited to join in.
Needless to say we all ended up with a beau for the rest of the stay.
One night as we were all asleep, all except Brenda, when an Airman from the village dance tried to get through the window I was sleeping under. She was reading a comic under the blanket and had to pretend to be asleep when the teachers came to investigate. She said that he didn't need telling twice to sling his hook, one look at the teachers in their curlers was enough.
We had a great two weeks; sadly one of the girls broke her foot on the last day. My thumb had been trapped in the door of the train when we had set off, it was ironic really because we were only at Darnall Station. We were standing in a compartment because the corridors were full; trains were always full with servicemen and women in those days. There was a very stroppy lady sitting in our carriage and she complained about the carriage door being open, said she was cold (it was June) so I leaned over to close it just as the guard came up and pushed it. My thumb was wedged in the door and the guard was very upset, "madam" who'd caused it said nothing. It hurt terribly but there was nothing we could do, so one of my friends wrapped her hankie round it, they also told the teacher what had happened but although she bathed it when we arrived at the village there wasn't anything she could do either. The expression "Sticking out like a sore thumb" must have been made by someone in a similar predicament, it got in my way all the time and it was certainly sore.
My dad had come to the station to collect me, and when he saw the girl on crutches he said he dreaded to think what I would have done, because I was always in trouble. When he saw the busted thumb, I think he was really relieved that I'd not done anything more serious. Mum of course went barmy when I told her how it had happened.
My mum and dad started working at the local dance, their friend ran the dance and my Gran's sister was in the ladies cloakroom and he wanted mum to do the gents and dad to be the man taking money on the door. At first I used to sit at the back of the room doing my homework, but eventually one or two of the lads used to say, "Come on young'un" and they taught me how to do the dances. I think they enjoyed dancing with me because I was light on my feet and they could spin me about trying all their new dance steps out. I loved it and it quickly became my favourite replacement for swimming. I learned how to do all the dances but my favourite was jiving, even now I can't sit still when the music starts. A young man wanted me to go to London for the Victor Sylvester Competition for Young Dancers, he was confident we would win, but said I would have to stop jiving because it spoiled your dancing. In the first place I didn't agree with him about either things, I thought it was a bit bigheaded to think we were the winners but there was no way he or anyone else was going to stop me doing something I got so much pleasure from, so that was the end of that.
When the American Forces came to England there were two occasions I remember well. The first was in the Gents Cloakroom, my mum used to take the money for looking after belongings but there was no charge for servicemen. This huge black American Airman towered over her and kept holding all the coins in his pocket out for her, she kept saying it was free and he kept saying three of which coin, in sheer desperation she waved her arms in the air and said "Buck Shee". Amazingly he understood, smiled at us both and said thank you.
The next incident happened at the local vicarage. My friend, who lived next door, and I were talking to the vicar and a black American Airman came into the room, the vicar introduced us. Noreen was introduced first; when it was my turn I took my little white gloves off (we always wore white crochet gloves in summer in those days) and shook hands. I don't know what made me do it because it was customary for ladies to shake hands wearing gloves. The Airman said "Ah a lady" and the vicar smiled too. Poor old Noreen said she felt awful and wished she had done the same.
When the war ended in Europe everyone went mad. As far as we were concerned our days of bombing etc. were over. Although there was still a shortage of food because of rationing it was amazing the parties there were in just about every street. The one I went to in Thames Road was super. They had wheeled a piano into the street and my friend's father who played the sax in a dance band and someone else got on an accordion. We danced and danced until the early hours of the morning.
When the war with Germany was over more food was getting through on the convoys because the ships were not being sunk by U Boats. We queued for bananas at the local fruit shop; oranges were now available to everybody and not just pregnant women. The snag was we weren't used to some of the food because we hadn't had it for so long and I came out in a rash all over both legs caused by something I'd eaten. We tried everything on it but my Grandad said it was what the soldiers got in the tropics called prickly heat. He told mum to make some foul ointment with sulphur and pork lard, it smelled revolting and stuck to my stockings, but it did the trick
The war with Japan finally ended. Everyone knew their boys in the forces were safe now and would be coming home. We could have huge bonfires in the streets and because food was more available huge street parties were held. Dancing of course was obligatory.
We kids were deprived of many things during the war but the people I shall always admire were my mum and dad. They always managed somehow to celebrate Easter, Whitsuntide, Birthdays, Bonfire night and especially Christmas and the New Year. They both did a first rate job of providing as normal a family life as possible and were wonderful parents for a child in wartime to have.