91Čȱ¬

This contribution to Peopleā€™s War was received by the Action Desk at 91Čȱ¬ Radio Norfolk and submitted to the website with the permission and on behalf Mrs Peggy Francis

I was born here in Grimsby in 1929 and volunteered for the WLA as soon as I was 17 after being in the tailoring trade during the War for a Leicester based clothing firm (Pelivear) where we made clothing suits for the RAF, tank suit jackets for the Tank Corps and then onto demob macs for the lads coming homeā€¦ā€¦.
After being given the sketchiest of medicals I was passed fit for the WLA! I had one interview in Lincoln after which my clothing arrived in the post. Two of my working shirts and my ā€œbestā€ shoes were second hand, perhaps I should have gone into Lincoln and complained in person, but never mind I was IN and so began a new life for me!
I was given a travel warrant and off I went to Goxhill finding on my way at Grimsby Station, May a workmate form Pelivea, also on her way to Goxhill too!! We were met by Mr Hargreave4s, our new boss, who took us onto Barton-upon- Humber to meet his foreman Ruben Broughton. Eastfield Farm was to become a ā€œPick Your Ownā€ in later years, but then it needed tidying up and we did do an awful lot of weeding!! No thistles or poppies were allowed. Over the land we also spread the remains of awful smelling parsnips ā€” unwanted stock ā€” the smell was TERRIBLE. We grew onions, carrots, strawberries, boyson berries and I helped sink railway sleepers to make fence posts (quite fashionable these days arenā€™t they?!). We stretched wire supports for the fruit and this was a particularly satisfying job for this townie who had no idea!
There was one horse to share with another farm locally, where Ruebenā€™s brother was foreman and I was often sent on a bike to fetch said ā€œhossā€. Rueben we nicknamed Shorty because he was so tall and slim and he kept his own cow on the farm; one night after her being thoroughly noisy Rube told us sheā€™d have to go to her wedding ā€” and heā€™d be the bridesmaid. When I asked whether I could do it, Rueben responded ā€œNo it had to be bullā€. He opened the gate and away she went, she later produced a fine bull calf which I learned to feed out of a bucket, he was quite playful and would butt me about his pen. I tasted the first milk from his Ma ā€” beastings as I think they are called, they had the most wonderful rich creamy taste.

We listened to ā€œAn Appointment With Fearā€ on the radio by paraffin lamp which was quite spooky and then there was Jack, a sailor who was learning the market gardening trade. He was always moaning about something, Rube said heā€™d never turn out any good, because someone has to be happy and content to grow good stuff. Jack was on paid time from the Government to learn, the WLA did not get this, but girls did go on to become Managers, Shepherdesses, Milk Maids and Farmers, out of their own sheer determination, bless ā€˜em all!!
I was moved to the hostel at Wainfleet. I was part of the gang of potato pickers for Mr. Charles W Parker (a real gent!) and on arrival at work was told by another WLA to get my behind up and go like hell!! We set and picked tatties by piece work, this earned me another shilling a day! I riddled taties for two local ladies, who kept me well treated with their homemade cakes and pasties. Wainfleet is a small town that dates back to Roman times and surrounded by rich areas for potato, cabbage, sugar beet, oats, barley and wheat growing so there was always overtime for us. There were also local farmers offering us extra work on a Sunday to get greens and flowers ready for various markets, so we always managed to go back with presents of flowers for Matron at the Hostel

There was some competition between the Land Army girls and local lassies, but the ā€œDemob Ladsā€ said that the WLA was the best thing that happened there! We certainly had great fun (oh the snows of 1947, what a laugh!!) The winter of 1947 found us so deep in snow that when I went home for my Birthday weekend (Feb 6th) I was unable to get back to Wainfleet for a week because there was so much snow on the railway lines, although Mr. Parker did offer to wire the girls money who couldnā€™t get back to work quickly because of the weather. On Sundays after Service at All saints Church, Mr Parker and Mr George Bateman (of THE famous Brewery) would walk with my friend Kathleen and I, these two gentlemen were always concerned for the welfare of the girls who worked on the land. The Grange at Wainfleet where Mr Parkerā€™s lived still stands solid and good to this day and with my Daughter I love to go back there reliving old times.
My first holiday ever was from Wainfleet to London with my friend from the WLA, Kathleen. We took our ration books to the Regent Palace Hotel (oh my such luxury!) and at our first breakfast there we listened in amazement to this lady who said she had never had less than TWO pounds of butter per week (we had 2ozs of butter and 6ozs of margarine and these were land workerā€™s rations). We went to the market in Covent Garden to see where all our hard work ended up and were whistled and cheered by the barrow boys ā€” we loved it! Lots of people admired our sun kissed skin and wanted to know about our lives as Land Army girls (who says Londoners are standoffish?). I was there recently, in our fine capital, for the unveiling and Dedication of the Women of World War 2 Memorial, not long after the bombings in the Summer of 05 and found everyone just as cheerful, interested and helpful as ever!
My last years on the land were with Mr Gerard Ireland at Greenfield Farm, Friskney (Lincs) where I learnt still more, for example how to handle 3 horses at a time, ā€˜ tho I still maintain that the lovely creatures just got on with what they knew and let me tag along!! Even though Wagonner George had been through the Desert War in the Army he cried when he saw his ā€geesā€ sold on, so did I. We became mechanised, I with the Foremanā€™s gels Madge, Betty and Joan actually SAT planting cabbages, what joy after all the dibbing ā€˜em in by hand and by bent back! There was one day when I began to feel itchy around the bum, I thought Iā€™d got ants in my pants when suddenly the Foreman roared ā€œWHOAH, George, Pegā€™s bum is alightā€. It turned out the dottle (ash) from his pipe had burnt through all my working clothes!! It was a very comical if somewhat uncomfortable moment!

The Land Army wound up in November 1950 and I stayed two more years, with my new found ā€œMamā€ Granny Nicholson with her great family. We won good bonuses on our sugar beet gapping (ooh! my back!) ā€˜til I had to leave having the beginning of a slipped disc ā€” my brilliant Specialist Mr Steel put it right! I still have the second corset which I donā€™t need!! I look back over my Land Army years with great affection, the wonderful folk that took me in, those that gave great encouragement to this townie and I feel I must mention here the Ukranian Misplaced Persons who worked so very hard. Many of them couldnā€™t get home ā€œbecause of the political situationā€ and we felt so very sorry for them and yet they comforted US. Lots of them, Poles, Germans, Italians, Latvians, many from behind what was then the Iron Curtain made their own special place here and we used to laugh together about how difficult and confusing the English language can be. Then there was Erich ā€œourā€ German POW at Greenfield Farm, Friskney who used to cry with the cold as he watched us dig and tie winter celery without wearing gloves, ā€œPloddy mad English girlsā€ heā€™d say. Erich married a local farmerā€™s daughter and we used to think it was so he could keep warm!
To this day I meet Ukranians as I fundraise for Ukraine Relief Aid, a small locally based Charity and have been out there several times, meeting more wonderful ordinary people. All my work is because of one 17 year old Peggy Newman, WLA Volunteer 164589. I am a woman blessed!

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