Catherine Patience
Christopher N Hobson
Joyce Try
Harry Thompson
Albert James
Bill Guest
Herbert Thompson
Michael Walker
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I was working in Beverley when in October 1941 I was conscripted into
the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF). Basic training was at
Morecambe followed by advanced training as a radar operator. My first
posting was to the radar station at Danby Beacon near Whitby. There
followed various postings around the coast of England including Dry
Tree, Canewdon, High St and Swingate (Dover).
By August 1944 (following a stint plotting the Normandy invasion with
the Navy in Portsmouth) I was in Dover. Between then and VE Day my job
was operating the Chain Home (CH) detectors and also the then top secret
radar system code-named ‘Big Ben’. ‘Big Ben’
was a method of detecting the launch sites of the German V2 rockets
(a launch was triangulated with another station and then RAF Mosquitoes
were immediately sent over to precision bomb it).
On the 8th May 1945 we heard on the radio that the Germans had surrendered.
Everyone who wasn't serving on a shift piled down the hill from the
radar station to Dover town. The harbour was packed with ships sounding
their sirens and overhead Spitfires were performing aerobatics. The
streets were awash with people. Most servicemen were Royal Navy sailors
and most of them were now a little worse for wear from drink. But that
didn't stop my friend and I and the rest of the boys and girls from
the station joining with the celebrations. Soon my friend had disappeared
accompanied by a jack tar and leaving his pal with me and a bottle of
Navy Rum. I'd never had Navy Rum before (and I've never had it since).
The next thing I know I was being propped up on a bicycle being wheeled
through the camp gates a couple of hours later. Apparently I'd been
found in a slightly squiffy state wandering around on the beach threatening
to go swimming with my uniform on. Unfortunately the CO wasn't impressed
with my behaviour - he hadn't been shocked by my tired and emotional
state, but he had taken exception to my going down to the town wearing
red corduroy trousers and a WAAF battledress top. Clearly it wasn't
what the RAF expected of its girls and I was put on a charge. What a
great start to peace in Europe!
I was serving in Home
Forces as a Training Officer at Brancepath Castle, County Durham, having
been posted there after recovering from war wounds received in October
1944 whilst in Holland with the 9th D.L.I.
My overriding impression of the day was that it was low key. The atmosphere
was of quiet reflection, of slow realisation and relief that at least
hostilities in one theatre of war (i.e. Europe) were over.
My diary entry for the day, which I paraphrase, reads:
'ALL Germans surrendered unconditionally. A Church of England Service
of thanksgiving for all ranks was held in the camp gymnasium. I heard
Winston Churchill's broadcast on radio, the briefing of King George VI
by senior officers of the Armed Forces and the King's address to his people.
There was no formal training programme and some leave passes were granted.
Junior officers whiled away their time by playing snooker and table tennis
in the Mess.'
Needless to say CELEBRATIONS followed some days afterwards!
Joyce Try on the right
Then, in 1942 I went to live and work in London, in a hospital, for the next four years, and experienced the regular bombings, and ‘doodle-bugs’ and V2’s which were showered on the city, and the rest of Britain. Each hospital did its turn of being ‘on take’; and we all had to be on ‘fire-watch’ every ten days, ready to deal with any ‘incident’ whether we were ‘on take’ or not.
I will never forget June 6th 1944; hearing on the radio that the second front had started and we were at last actually landing in France – never mind the rockets – at last it seemed the end of the war might be on its way. I went for a week’s holiday on a farm in north Devon and remember falling asleep in a field whilst weeding carrots; and cycling, all twenty of us, to the south coast on a hot Sunday to the sea; we could hear gunfire and imagined we could see across to France. After what seemed a never-ending winter and spring, and the awful sadness of Arnhem, peace in Europe was declared on May 8th 1945.
My one thought was to return home to my family some 30 miles out of London – after a dream-like day at work I was allowed off early, and rushed to Kings Cross. Trains were still running and were packed solid with excited people singing and happy. I walked home from the station and suddenly lights were on everywhere after five years of blackouts. My sister too had returned from away and we all went down to the square for dancing and singing and laughter and fun – back at work the next day, crazy with excitement and relief; but all were thinking – what about the war in Burma?
My first job with the unit was to plough up the Hurn on Beverley Westwood, in January 1941. The land had not been ploughed up for several decades and it was very hard work. In the spring of 1941 the land was cultivated. The land proved to be very good and with plenty of fertilizer, it produced good crops. Over 200 acres of land was farmed on Beverley Westwood and 35 acres on Figham pasture by the Ministry with wheat, barley and potatoes. The plots were fenced off with wooden posts and thick wire. The Westwood was used for agriculture until 1950-51 when the grass was re-sown.
During the War when the farming work was over for the day, I was a Street Fire Watcher. We trained with the Fire Service some evenings and at weekends. I was in charge of a group and we reported in the street were we lived when the siren sounded. We were on duty looking for small fires from incendiary bombs. We patrolled until the “all clear” sounded. Some nights I only had 3-4 hours sleep, so life was very hard.
Once there was a day time air raid, followed by the all clear. Later a German bomber came over from Leconfield. I watched the bombs leave the plane and head for Hodgsons. One landed around the stables and I heard that a horse got killed.
One night a bomb landed in the gardens behind Greenwood Avenue, Riding Fields, Thomson Avenue and Cherry Tree Lane. I lived in Greenwood Avenue. We had a steel shelter in our kitchen and there were two other shelters on Riding Fields Square. The bomb did relatively little damage. It could have been a lot worse.
After raids we picked up shrapnel and sometimes the timing nose cones off ack-ack shells. My Dad was in the home guard. He was stationed on the playing fields behind Fenners in Marfleet, in Hull. He was on an ack-ack battery that fired rockets. I also remember that there was a big 4 1⁄2 inch ack-ack gun mounted on a railway flat bed which travelled between Hull and Beverley.
I watched Wellingtons leaving Leconfield on bombing missions. Two crashed in fog near Hull Bridge whilst returning. Once, a Polish Spitfire pilot forgot to fire his recognition flares, and I saw him shot down. He landed in a field between Beverley and Woodmansey near what is now Lakeminster Park. I also, while watching football at Black Mill, saw Spitfires practising dogfights. One dived straight into the ground and crashed near Broadgates, he did not pull out of his dive.
On VE Day there was a big do and street party in Greenwood Avenue.
Our 1945 Army Cadet camp was in August at Ganton, near Scarborough. The Beverley, Cottingham and Hessle cadets went together for a week. On VJ Day eve we were in Scarborough and swam in Peaseholme Park. The paper men declared, at around 5.00pm, that VJ would be signed at midnight that night. We missed the last bus back to camp and had to walk. At Seamer we got picked up and taken to near the Filey turn off by an ATS truck. We had to walk the rest of the way back to Ganton.
We were put on a cargo boat called Mendoza that had been converted into a troop ship. We had no escort and were on our own until we reached the Middle East. We saw neither air protection nor any other ships for three weeks. It was a frightening time for all on board.
We called in at Freetown and Durban before finally reaching Suez.
From there we travelled to the Western Desert where we stayed for about a year. Throughout this time and in intense heat, water for drinking, washing and shaving was strictly rationed. We had to share whatever we had but somehow got through.
At the start of the El Alamein campaign I was on night duty and remember looking at the stars and thinking my Mum and Dad could see the same stars. It was an emotional feeling I will never forget.
I was next posted to Palestine to be one of the first members of the newly formed RAF Regiment as a ground gunner. We were stationed at Hadera, now part of Israel. Even in 1943 we found a great deal of conflict between the Palestinians and the Israelis.
It was from this station that the RAF Regiment first went into action. We were sent to occupy the island of Kos. Unfortunately, we were unsuccessful, suffered heavy casualties and I lost many comrades.
We were next sent to Italy to undertake clearance work after fighting in that particular theatre had ended. We used Walrus aircraft, working alongside the Royal Navy, to spot mines that mine sweepers could later destroy. I was posted to 15 or 16 different places all over Italy doing this work. It was then that VE Day happened. For me it was just another working day, we didn’t know it had happened until afterwards.
Following this I was sent to live and work in Rome. After years living under canvas I was suddenly stationed in the luxury Villa Tolonia, once owned by an Italian Prince and until recently occupied by Benito Mussolini, “Il Duce” himself. It was luxury and opulence beyond belief.
It was from here I received my posting home. I will never forget the feeling I had seeing England again from the deck of the ship after four years away. When I arrived home, after walking the last six miles in the early hours from Cudworth to Barnsley, I found my parents had decked my home in flags to welcome me home.
My camp was hit by RAF bombers and 304 British prisoners were killed. The factory was blown to bits. After being made to clean up the site, which took many weeks in very cold conditions, the survivors were transferred to Dresden.
At Dresden we had to work in another factory making petrol. Then one day at 1.20 the air raid alarm went and waves of RAF bombers started to drop their bombs, mostly 500 pounders and incendiaries, on the City causing huge fires. Many planes were shot down. It was terrible to see. There were thousands of dead people. Every road and building in Dresden was on fire, and everything was blown apart. It was horrible to witness.
My Dad, Les Walker, was called up by the army in early 1940 and joined the East Yorkshire Regiment at Victoria Barracks. He soon went on to the Royal Armoured Corps and learnt to drive tanks at Bovingdon in Dorset, and soon after was sent to India and then Burma. He spent practically all of his working life at Wright and Hoggards in Swinemoor Lane as a printer.
My Mother, Irene, had spent the war working in the shipyard canteen before returning to Broadgates Hospital as a nurse. I can remember, in the canteen, slicing bread on a bacon machine and making chips during my school holidays. My school was St Mary’s in Mill Lane, before the fire.
As the fire was blazing away, somebody said to me “Mike, your Dad is coming down the road”. There was this soldier, in uniform, carrying a kit bag, striding towards us.
Suddenly my Dad was the Hero of the Day, as he was the only person in uniform, and he was persuaded to stand on the doorstep and make a speech. He was rather embarrassed, I remember. He had injured his legs in Burma while driving a tank, and spent some time in Indian Hospitals where, he told us, he shook the hand of Louis Mountbatten. He would never tell us the nasty happenings of the war, but only the frivolous things like catching butterflies in the jungle, finding snakes in his bed and taking photos of tigers.
Obviously, my Mother and I were delighted to see my father again after so many years away. I recall unpacking his kitbag and finding many sweets rolled up in towels and shirts. And that was the end of my perfect VE Day.