Beverley Civic Society - The VE Day Memoires

THE DAY I SUNK THE SHIP

I was born Hilda Sparrow in a little house in Green`s Passage which ran between Saturday Market Place and Lairgate in Beverley, in 1925.

I went to work as a Kitchen Maid for Lady Hotham at the Hall, South Dalton. My hours of work were from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. for which I was paid £1. 00 per month.
I worked under the guidance of the Head Cook who was a wonderful cook.

I lived with my sister at Coronation Cottage, The Green, Lund, and it was at this time I met my fiancée at The Wellington Inn. He was with a group of four young men, who gradually spoke to us and introduced themselves. He was 6` 4” so stood out among the others. He worked at the ship-yard, Beverley, where he was on the gate as a Time Officer for 25 years, after serving in the Coldstream Guards.

As the war went on I saw an advertisement to join the W.R.E.N.S so I applied in 1943 when I was aged 18. I was posted to Mill Hill, London. On arrival at King`s Cross station I got on the wrong train to Mill Hill. I was due there at 2 p.m. but with the help of a friendly porter I eventually arrived at 8 p.m., totally exhausted and desperately hungry. I was brought a salad, and to my horror a caterpillar crawled out from under the lettuce leaf, so I was unable to eat the scanty meal.

I was shown to a cabin, sharing bunk-beds with five other girls and being the last one to arrive was allocated a top bunk. The following morning a claxon sounded at 6 a.m. and one of the other girls showed me that the bed must be stripped and completely re-made with envelope corners. The bedspread, blue and white like all the others, had an anchor design woven into it. I made the bed as well as I could and went for breakfast where I was ordered to report to the Chief Officer at 900 hours.

I was still in my civilian clothes but was ordered to stand to attention and address the First Officer as Ma`m. She blistered me by accusing me of “Committing the worst crime in the British Navy.” “Did you know you`ve sunk the ship”? Totally confused I was taken by an Officer to view the scene of crime. There was the bedspread with the anchor motif upside down, for which offence I was placed on seven days` jankers. I cried, being quite unaware of the significance of this misplaced anchor, being a sign of distress.

It was two weeks before we were issued with proper uniforms but I was provided with a boiler suit and by 10 p.m. was ushered to an office across the parade ground where five other girls, also on jankers, were issued with big gas masks with huge tubes for breathing, and also with tin helmets and ordered to put them on. We were shown to a very tall building with a metal ladder and ordered to climb to the very top and through a trap-door on to the roof, wearing the gas masks round our necks.

I was terrified of heights but ordered to climb up and through the trap door where we emerged on to a flat roof with no parapet, so I crawled to the middle of the roof before I felt able to stand up. It was a fine night and we were ordered to `Stand at ease.`
Then through the clear night air came a humming which I recognized to my horror as German planes. The air-raid sirens came on and powerful searchlights picked out the German planes when with a long whistle and boom they began to drop bombs around us.

I panicked and although still under orders to Stand at ease` from the Officer, I replied “I`m not standing here to be killed`, and disobeying the order got on the ladder, legs wobbling and giving way under me, my whole body shaking in terror, I began to crawl down the long ladder, still hampered by the ungainly gas-mask. I can`t remember getting down as I passed out half-way down the ladder. The tin helmet cut into the nape of my neck and I woke up in sick-bay, where I took six days to recover.

On discharge from the sick-bay I was ordered to report to the First Officer. For my crime of disobeying an order I was sent to the galley where food was prepared for 800 W.R.E.N.S. Although there were machines for peeling the bags of potatoes I was ordered to peel them by hand as a punishment. My hands became raw and sores broke out, and eventually the cook took pity on me and gave me other duties.

I was very unhappy and homesick and cried until one of the Officers spoke to me.
“I want to go home, I can`t do anything right” I told her. She reminded me that I was only there for eight weeks, she knew it was hard for me, but advised me to `Stick it out.`
After eight weeks I was accepted, told I had done very well, and was to be posted `back home`. My posting was to Spurn Point for a year where I was to act as a cook for 20 W.R.E.N.S. who were living in huts down there. After arriving at Paragon Station I caught a `bus to Kilnsea where the little train waited for me, its wheels going clickety-clack all the way. I loved every minute of it, being teased as W.R.E.N Sparrow, as “Two little birds”. We sometimes walked down to the few houses where the life-boatmen lived with their families, and the W.R.E.N.S helped with deskwork under the supervision of a Petty Officer.

After a happy year at Spurn I was posted to Butlins at Skegness which had been taken over by the Navy. There living in chalets were 2000 personnel, some being French, Dutch and Belgians. To feed them were four cook-houses named after Royal Dukes, Windsor, Kent, Gloucester and York, and I was assigned to York.

There were many different duties and initially I was assigned to butter bread. This sounded a simple task, but there were very long loaves, which machines cut into slices, then the slices had to be laid out by hand on wooden trays and fed under the buttering machine. This machine was a large shiny metal globular shape with a lid on top through which the chopped up butter was inserted. All went well for a little while, until bread began to emerge unbuttered. My supervisor told me to cut up more butter and fill the machine. All at once the lid flew up and a stream of butter covered the ceiling and all nearby surfaces. I was covered, butter in my hair, my eyes, and over my clean white overall. I was told `I had put too much in` and was transferred to peeling onions. We peeled onions as a team, wearing goggles for the fumes, but were a happy crew.
There was good entertainment at Skegness and occasionally we W.R.E.N.S were invited over to Cranwell the R.A.F. station when a dance was held. Transport was provided as the R.A.F. sent a truck to collect us. We always had a good time.

After ten months I was posted to H.M.S. Royal Arthur which was land-based at Corsham in Wiltshire. Here were 3000 sailors and my duties began at 3 a.m. when we prepared breakfast on a vast scale, with 100 rashers of bacon on a metal tray, 50 eggs at a time and sausages placed under hotplates. We started serving at 6 a.m. until 8 a.m. and the men prepared their own toast in machines located in the dining room. I will never forget the cook preparing massive Christmas puddings for all the men, the ingredients mixed in huge vats and the officers appeared and poured in six whole bottles of rum.

After two to three months I was transferred to the Officers` Mess and ordered to cook the meat. It was good food with six joints of beef, six legs of lamb and six joints of pork at a time. One morning at 11 a.m. I had the meat in the ovens when Prince Philip stood by my shoulder. “Good smell on”, he remarked. “Yes Sir, it`s the meat” I replied. “What part of the country are you from”? He asked me. “Yorkshire Sir”. “Will you make a Yorkshire Pudding”? he asked me. “Not today as I`m going to Buck House”. It was well known that he was courting Princess Elizabeth, and travelled to London every weekend in his little two-seater blue car. On the Monday night I cooked roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and it was served in the dining room. Back came the message to say it was beautiful and could he have the recipe for Buck House. I refused, saying only Yorkshire girls could cook it properly. He was so handsome, and all the girls admired him. He married Princess Elizabeth in 1947.

I was demobbed in 1946 and didn`t want to leave the W.R.E.N.S. I was still at Corsham on V.E. day, where a big party was held, and many sailors were being demobbed so there was much activity.

I found it hard to settle back at home, it was so quiet, so went to work at Deans and Light Alloys down Grovehill Road, making `bus seats which was hard work. Two years after I was demobbed I was married at Lund Church, and rented half a large house in Walkergate. Through the good word of Alderman Godbold Miss Christie, the Housing Officer, allocated us a house which was then two years` old. I have lived there fifty years and brought up three sons there. I later worked for ten years at `The Lilacs`, a residential home for those with learning difficulties.

My interest in the Navy surfaced again in 1997 when the replica of Captain Cook`s “Endeavour” sailed into Hull. I applied for the post of a guide and worked on the ship. I still have my straw boater and sailor`s blouse that was issued to all the guides.
I still march on Armistice Sunday and collect for the British Legion. When I look back I have no regrets.



VE Day Memories 5	Hilda Reed nee Sparrow Keith Moody Mr A Hobson Berna Moody We would like your contributions by email to memories@beverleycivic.co.uk or complete this form on our VE Day Memories page
Hilda Reed nee Sparrow
	THE DAY I SUNK THE SHIP I was born Hilda Sparrow in a little house in Green`s Passage which ran between Saturday Market Place and Lairgate in Beverley, in 1925. I went to work as a Kitchen Maid for Lady Hotham at the Hall, South Dalton. My hours of work were from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. for which I was paid £1. 00 per month. I worked under the guidance of the Head Cook who was a wonderful cook. I lived with my sister at Coronation Cottage, The Green, Lund, and it was at this time I met my fiancée at The Wellington Inn. He was with a group of four young men, who gradually spoke to us and introduced themselves. He was 6` 4” so stood out among the others. He worked at the ship-yard, Beverley, where he was on the gate as a Time Officer for 25 years, after serving in the Coldstream Guards. As the war went on I saw an advertisement to join the W.R.E.N.S so I applied in 1943 when I was aged 18. I was posted to Mill Hill, London. On arrival at King`s Cross station I got on the wrong train to Mill Hill. I was due there at 2 p.m. but with the help of a friendly porter I eventually arrived at 8 p.m., totally exhausted and desperately hungry. I was brought a salad, and to my horror a caterpillar crawled out from under the lettuce leaf, so I was unable to eat the scanty meal. I was shown to a cabin, sharing bunk-beds with five other girls and being the last one to arrive was allocated a top bunk. The following morning a claxon sounded at 6 a.m. and one of the other girls showed me that the bed must be stripped and completely re-made with envelope corners. The bedspread, blue and white like all the others, had an anchor design woven into it. I made the bed as well as I could and went for breakfast where I was ordered to report to the Chief Officer at 900 hours. I was still in my civilian clothes but was ordered to stand to attention and address the First Officer as Ma`m. She blistered me by accusing me of “Committing the worst crime in the British Navy.” “Did you know you`ve sunk the ship”? Totally confused I was taken by an Officer to view the scene of crime. There was the bedspread with the anchor motif upside down, for which offence I was placed on seven days` jankers. I cried, being quite unaware of the significance of this misplaced anchor, being a sign of distress. It was two weeks before we were issued with proper uniforms but I was provided with a boiler suit and by 10 p.m. was ushered to an office across the parade ground where five other girls, also on jankers, were issued with big gas masks with huge tubes for breathing, and also with tin helmets and ordered to put them on. We were shown to a very tall building with a metal ladder and ordered to climb to the very top and through a trap-door on to the roof, wearing the gas masks round our necks. I was terrified of heights but ordered to climb up and through the trap door where we emerged on to a flat roof with no parapet, so I crawled to the middle of the roof before I felt able to stand up. It was a fine night and we were ordered to `Stand at ease.` Then through the clear night air came a humming which I recognized to my horror as German planes. The air-raid sirens came on and powerful searchlights picked out the German planes when with a long whistle and boom they began to drop bombs around us. I panicked and although still under orders to Stand at ease` from the Officer, I replied “I`m not standing here to be killed`, and disobeying the order got on the ladder, legs wobbling and giving way under me, my whole body shaking in terror, I began to crawl down the long ladder, still hampered by the ungainly gas-mask. I can`t remember getting down as I passed out half-way down the ladder. The tin helmet cut into the nape of my neck and I woke up in sick-bay, where I took six days to recover. On discharge from the sick-bay I was ordered to report to the First Officer. For my crime of disobeying an order I was sent to the galley where food was prepared for 800 W.R.E.N.S. Although there were machines for peeling the bags of potatoes I was ordered to peel them by hand as a punishment. My hands became raw and sores broke out, and eventually the cook took pity on me and gave me other duties. I was very unhappy and homesick and cried until one of the Officers spoke to me. “I want to go home, I can`t do anything right” I told her. She reminded me that I was only there for eight weeks, she knew it was hard for me, but advised me to `Stick it out.` After eight weeks I was accepted, told I had done very well, and was to be posted `back home`. My posting was to Spurn Point for a year where I was to act as a cook for 20 W.R.E.N.S. who were living in huts down there. After arriving at Paragon Station I caught a `bus to Kilnsea where the little train waited for me, its wheels going clickety-clack all the way. I loved every minute of it, being teased as W.R.E.N Sparrow, as “Two little birds”. We sometimes walked down to the few houses where the life-boatmen lived with their families, and the W.R.E.N.S helped with deskwork under the supervision of a Petty Officer. After a happy year at Spurn I was posted to Butlins at Skegness which had been taken over by the Navy. There living in chalets were 2000 personnel, some being French, Dutch and Belgians. To feed them were four cook-houses named after Royal Dukes, Windsor, Kent, Gloucester and York, and I was assigned to York. There were many different duties and initially I was assigned to butter bread. This sounded a simple task, but there were very long loaves, which machines cut into slices, then the slices had to be laid out by hand on wooden trays and fed under the buttering machine. This machine was a large shiny metal globular shape with a lid on top through which the chopped up butter was inserted. All went well for a little while, until bread began to emerge unbuttered. My supervisor told me to cut up more butter and fill the machine. All at once the lid flew up and a stream of butter covered the ceiling and all nearby surfaces. I was covered, butter in my hair, my eyes, and over my clean white overall. I was told `I had put too much in` and was transferred to peeling onions. We peeled onions as a team, wearing goggles for the fumes, but were a happy crew. There was good entertainment at Skegness and occasionally we W.R.E.N.S were invited over to Cranwell the R.A.F. station when a dance was held. Transport was provided as the R.A.F. sent a truck to collect us. We always had a good time. After ten months I was posted to H.M.S. Royal Arthur which was land-based at Corsham in Wiltshire. Here were 3000 sailors and my duties began at 3 a.m. when we prepared breakfast on a vast scale, with 100 rashers of bacon on a metal tray, 50 eggs at a time and sausages placed under hotplates. We started serving at 6 a.m. until 8 a.m. and the men prepared their own toast in machines located in the dining room. I will never forget the cook preparing massive Christmas puddings for all the men, the ingredients mixed in huge vats and the officers appeared and poured in six whole bottles of rum. After two to three months I was transferred to the Officers` Mess and ordered to cook the meat. It was good food with six joints of beef, six legs of lamb and six joints of pork at a time. One morning at 11 a.m. I had the meat in the ovens when Prince Philip stood by my shoulder. “Good smell on”, he remarked. “Yes Sir, it`s the meat” I replied. “What part of the country are you from”? He asked me. “Yorkshire Sir”. “Will you make a Yorkshire Pudding”? he asked me. “Not today as I`m going to Buck House”. It was well known that he was courting Princess Elizabeth, and travelled to London every weekend in his little two-seater blue car. On the Monday night I cooked roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and it was served in the dining room. Back came the message to say it was beautiful and could he have the recipe for Buck House. I refused, saying only Yorkshire girls could cook it properly. He was so handsome, and all the girls admired him. He married Princess Elizabeth in 1947. I was demobbed in 1946 and didn`t want to leave the W.R.E.N.S. I was still at Corsham on V.E. day, where a big party was held, and many sailors were being demobbed so there was much activity. I found it hard to settle back at home, it was so quiet, so went to work at Deans and Light Alloys down Grovehill Road, making `bus seats which was hard work. Two years after I was demobbed I was married at Lund Church, and rented half a large house in Walkergate. Through the good word of Alderman Godbold Miss Christie, the Housing Officer, allocated us a house which was then two years` old. I have lived there fifty years and brought up three sons there. I later worked for ten years at `The Lilacs`, a residential home for those with learning difficulties. My interest in the Navy surfaced again in 1997 when the replica of Captain Cook`s “Endeavour” sailed into Hull. I applied for the post of a guide and worked on the ship. I still have my straw boater and sailor`s blouse that was issued to all the guides. I still march on Armistice Sunday and collect for the British Legion. When I look back I have no regrets.
Keith Moody (aged 11 on VE Day)
	One particular memory of VE Day I recollect very well is that of a group of grubby urchins living in or around the Wilbert Lane/George Street area of Beverley dancing delightedly round a bonfire they had built in the centre of George Street. We would be between perhaps 7 and 12 years old and aware only, that the war we had lived through for most if not all of our young lives was over. Adults after all were celebrating this great event! As the tarmac melted and the bonfire blazed, no one remonstrated or objected to our activities until that is, two tall figures in trilby hats halted on Wilbert Grove and viewed the scene with serious faces. The revelry ceased because we knew full well that one of these men was Detective Jack Drew and of course a policeman. A finger beckoned towards the eldest of our gang, Basil (Bas) Robinson and whilst the rest of us looked on, ready to run, `Bas` we were convinced, was going to his doom. One of the tall figures looking down on a trembling `Bas`, put his hand in his pocket and out came a handful of fireworks!
Mr A Hobson (then RAF)
	I was born 8 August l914 at Sproatley the fourth of eight children. I was working in the building trade and living at Arnold, near Skirlaugh, when I was called up into the R.A.F. I was already engaged to the lady who was to become my wife and she went into the W.R.A.C.S. I was posted to Padgate, Manchester to do my basic training and being a fit young man managed all right. I was keen on sport and was a good runner. I was posted to Java where the Japanese had gained control. Fighting was very fierce and I fought alongside Dutch, Chinese and native Javanese, trying to turn back the Japanese invasion. Fighting continued until we were surrounded and captured. The Japanese put us in camps initially in Java where conditions were terrible. Our own officers got slightly better treatment, being allowed to keep their uniforms, and still tried to look out for us, but there was no equipment of any sort and our only food was a small tin of boiled rice a day which had been boiled in a dustbin. We tried to supplement our rations by picking any green leaves we could reach, including bananas. I spent the majority of the war as a prisoner of war and was put to work building runways for aerodromes, the work was all carried out by hand with picks and shovels, and hundreds died around me. We got no parcels at all and what mail there was arrived between 2-3 years` old. As my mother was already deceased my Dad wrote to me. Some prisoners tried to escape but so far as I know no-one ever did, being on an island. We were beaten with wooden sticks, or the butt end of rifles, sometimes because our guards did not think we had worked hard enough. I have seen Japanese soldiers kill men for no good reason. My health was not too bad, I was of small stature and the smaller men seemed to survive longer on the starvation diet. When I was captured I weighed 11 stone and 9 months later I weighed 6 st. 4 lb. The religion of the Japanese was to worship the Sun, but not one of them showed any kindness. Early in the second year of our captivity we were herded on to ships where we were so crowded we had to stand on deck for the entire voyage and taken to Sumatra for a while. We were set to work making runways for planes and of the 2000 that sailed from Java only 500 survived to be sent to Singapore 18 months later. We saw no friendly planes and had no knowledge of the state of the war. In Singapore we were set to work digging tunnels and dugouts, still under the eye of the Japanese. By then we had no clothing or shoes, and our only garment was a loincloth. We had no knowledge of V.E.Day but in the last few weeks before V.J. Day the cruel treatment improved slightly, but there was no increase in our rations. In February 1945 we were all herded together and told “The war would soon be over”. I will never forget Mountbatten at Woodlands Camp when the Japanese surrendered. There were two rows of officers and behind them all the other ranks. Mountbatten approached and the officers' ranks parted, and he stood among the men. “Come in lads I have some gen for you. You will be going home tomorrow, just be patient.” He ordered the Japanese to run round the parade ground, hands on heads, then off on a run and back round the parade ground again. We were taken to a naval base in Singapore and put on ships for home. Some gave up and died on the way home. We came back via Ceylon where we put in for two days. The improved rations helped to build us up a little. We came back to Hednesford where we were given demob suits, mine was brown and not too bad. I didn`t get my pay until weeks afterwards but was given 6 weeks` leave, after which I returned to R.A.F. Cosford, Wolverhampton. I was there for a month until pronounced fit and then demobbed. I have later been assessed for a war pension, but it was decided that I was not bad enough to qualify. I felt the effects of the beatings for many years, and the leg ulcers. My fiancée had been demobbed a month before, and I had been sending her an allowance throughout the war of £1. 00 a week. I was just glad to be home, and never applied for any medals. I had bad dreams for a while after coming home, but not any more. I have a son and a daughter, four grandchildren and eight great grandchildren. I am now in my nineties, but have never had any desire to revisit Tonjon Prioc camp.
Berna Moody (aged 9 on VE Day)
	I was born in Beverley and have lived here all my life. One recollection of the war is of a group of children playing in Albert Terrace where I was riding a small `mickey mouse` three wheeled trike. It was dusk and we were close to the drill-hall, now the medical centre. I believe it was on Sunday 27 October, 1940, when a stray German plane flew very low along the Leases and shot at our little group of children. Most ran to shelter under the eaves of the drill-hall, but I ran to the centre of the street to save my bike. My sister with great courage ran out after me and dragged me into shelter. The bullets stitched into the tarmac of the road, and another girl, Dorothy Hall who lived in Albert Terrace went to pick one up. It was very hot, and blistered her fingers. Though it was only late October I seem to recollect a fine dusting of snow at the time. I believe the plane continued over Newbegin and Wood Lane, and then went on to fire at St. Mary`s Church, and the bullet pierced the stained-glass window and lodged in the back of one of the pews, where the damage can still be seen. When V.E. Day was announced I can remember general celebrations, everyone who had a flag hung it from their windows. There was dancing in the Market Place and the Mayor announced a grand fancy dress parade at the racecourse. My mother was determined to involve me in this and decided I would be dressed as an Indian water carrier. Our next-door neighbour loaned a large multi-coloured jug for the water carrying and my mother wrapped me round and round in a length of red cream-patterned silk. My sister was booked to colour me where it showed with brown leg colouring, which girls painted on their legs, for want of stockings. Come the day my sister was no-where to be found, so my mother in desperation mixed a bowl of `Burdall`s gravy salt` and daubed it over me, particularly over my face. It ran into my eyes and the salt stung furiously. I shed copious tears as she pushed me up to the grandstand, as I was unable to walk in this tight binding. I can remember crying and glowering and being awarded a prize of a luminous rabbit, being pushed towards the front of a long parade Another memory is from a visit to the Picture Playhouse, one of Beverley`s three cinemas. In those days the cinema was owned by Mr. Symmonds and it was a very special place where he often wore a dinner suit and seats could be booked, all except the one on the extreme right-hand side of the front row which was permanently booked by his white Sealyham dog. A full evening`s entertainment was provided with a cartoon, a short film, often travel, and the news before the main film. The cinema was always packed with a wonderful warm atmosphere. On this occasion which must have been shortly after V.E. Day the first news was revealed after the relief of Belsen Camp. A series of photographs came on the screen of grotesque figures dressed in striped caps and gowns like hospital gowns. They each had a number tattoed on their wrists and were all male. At first I thought they were puppets, they couldn`t possibly be human, being literally skin and bone. They then slowly turned round and with immense effort took off their gowns and stood revealed as hideous travesties of humanity. I can remember the gasp that went up from the audience, and some people left the cinema, unable to bear the unbearable. I felt as though I had taken part in a guilty secret, which soiled the whole of humanity. For the first time aged 9 I knew what the war had been about, and understood the necessity of fighting it.