A date forever etched on my mind. A day of foreboding, no-one daring to think what it would bring. How were we to know then, that it would last until 1945, an eternity.
No family would ever be the same again. Instant blackout, no street lighting, windows of houses were blacked out, so no lights were visible. Food ration books, clothing coupons, gas masks, identity cards, even buying furniture for homes had to have government approval. This then, was the start. Where would it end?
At 16 years of age, the enormity of it all was soon to envelop each and every one of us. Food we had taken for granted was now rationed. Everyday commodities were harder to come by as time went on, restrictions on travel after dark, unless it was to travel to and from work. Even the weather was the worst ever known, that first winter of the war. Young men and women were called up at 18 years of age, to go as ordered into the Army, Navy or Airforce, and even into the mines. No choice, just go as directed.
Each and every family in the neighbourhood had someone who was called up, be it father, son, brother, uncle, cousin, nephew, sister or aunt. Even mothers of children old enough to look after themselves were sent to do the jobs that had been left without manpower because of the call-up. They were doing shift work mornings, afternoons and nights in steel mills, transport, railways, post office, parks, etc. Air raids were soon to become part of everyday life. The Anderson shelters were to be an all Important necessity of life as night was spent in them during the air raids.
The Battle of Britain era was to see the skies blackened by our aircraft on day raids, followed by night raids with the drone of the aircraft moving across the sky and returning the following morning with a fervent hope that none were missing.
Balloon stations were manned around the country with the balloons released high into the sky to keep the enemy aircraft in sight of guns ready to shoot them down. An everyday sight which we all soon got used to. The dreaded sound of air-raid sirens came to be heard more often as time went by, and thoughts for family and friends all came to the fore. The All-Clear sound was a relief. We would check around to see if everyone was alright. There was a concerned atmosphere at that time by everyone.
The sight of a telegram boy in your area brought a sense of panic. Who, we wondered, was it to be this time? Someone missing? Injured in action? Taken prisoner of war, no, dear God, not killed in action. These were traumatic times for everyone, although we did our best to carry on as normal, as much as possible.
Schools were abandoned for a time. But in their place, came home schooling, a scheme where volunteer parents would take into their homes up to 10 children with a teacher for home lessons. It worked quite well. I remember my mother took my brother's age group into our home.
1940 saw more air raids over Sheffield. The enemy was after the steel mills and blast furnaces. They followed the river through the town, and the tram tracks, showing like silver ribbons in the moonlight. Coming in from the south, they bombed and blasted their trail of carnage and left. The Thursday night blitz of Sheffield will be forever remembered by the people who were caught up in it. I myself have vivid memories.
I, at that time, was a patient in the then Royal Infirmary, after an accident at work the previous week. It cost me an amputated thumb on my left hand and part of the little finger. Thursday December 12th 1940, the night of the blitz, all patients able to walk had to take a pillow and were taken into a room far below ground level. A room where 100 of us were crowded in a space for 40.
Nursing staff were kept informed of the raid's progress by the Air Raid wardens, and it didn't help when it was announced that the whole of Southy-green was on fire, or perhaps where your home was. And your thoughts turned to the family, were they alright? The next morning back on the ward, the scene was utter chaos, grime and dust everywhere. All the beds had been put closer together to get in more casualties from the raid of the night before. Even a row of beds had been placed down the centre where the previous night had been tables of flowers.
One thing I will always remember was seeing a little girl of 3 years, asking for her Mummy. She had an amputated leg. I never did find out what happened to her. The journey home from the hospital was a nightmare in itself. Everywhere there were diversions because of the destruction of roads, of houses, power lines, water gushing from the drains and fires caused by incendiary bombs. We didn't know then it would all happen again the following Sunday night.
It wasn't all doom and gloom, there were incidents to make you smile. On I recall, vividly, was being told to evacuate as an unexploded bomb had dropped in a lady's garden on the next road to ours. It was decided we had better go to our aunts house, who lived not too far away. When halfway there, we met them. They were coming to our house as a landmine had been dropped in their area. So we all came back to our house.
The bomb was defused safely by the bomb squad and a young sailor who was home on leave at the time defused the landmine. What brought the smile was, that the lady of the house where the bomb was located, was actually in bed and slept through the whole incident. She hadn't let anyone know she had come back home from visiting her relatives.
Drama came one Saturday afternoon when an aircraft that had been hit in a raid over Germany, tried to land in the park near to our house. The balloon that was based at the perimeter had to be lowered to allow it to land away from the houses in it's path. The other problem was the grass area had been staked to prevent enemy aircraft from landing. The crew bailed out at the last moment, only to be caught up in the trees at the start of the wood. We were not allowed near because of exploding ammunition. But no memorial was erected as the one in Endcliffe Park, which was to honour the bravery of the young crew who gave their lives to save ours.
By the time the war was declared over, I had married a returned tri-wounded soldier, but it was to be the last day of February 1946 before he was demobbed and together, be able to rebuild our life once more. Rationing stayed with us for a further 3 years, but gradually, everything, and everyone, settled into a routine picking up the pieces and starting again.
Life was to be hard as menfolk returned. 6 years away had given independence to wives, children and they, fathers and husbands, had to restart their homelives. But in all of this, we remembered the ones who didn't return, and were thankful to be the lucky ones.
Mary Hudson
7th March 1999