WWII Childhood Memories of Three Women in Newcastle

On May 4th, 2005, at Newcastle’s Mary Magdalene Retirement Community, the BBC Unigroup met with a craft circle of three women, Jean Carr, Betty Marshall and Shirley Taylor to listen to them reminisce about growing up during WWII.

Growing up during the war

In 1939, Jean was sent to live with a schoolmaster for two years. “When we arrived at Hexham”, she remembers, “we were given a bag of rations- corned beef and whatever. I carried a pillowcase full of my clothes, the small bag of food and wore a label with my name on around my neck, along with many other Newcastle evacuees. Some were brothers and sisters, and had to be sent somewhere together. But I was on my own, and was sent to a schoolmaster. Father made up his mind that it wasn’t safe to be at home, because of the strategic position of Newcastle along the mouth of the Tyne, but he used to come visit me. It was so silly though, because even at the schoolmaster’s, we used to see these black balloons in the sky which meant there was an air raid.”

Shirley, whilst intricately embossing handmade greeting cards, explains she was also sent away from home for safety, to her Grandma’s house on the coast near Whitley Bay. Born in 1937, she says she was “just a baby really”, but her clearest memories of the war are from the time she spent here.

Betty works on making a doormat made from strips of fleece material woven into the loose weave of a stretched piece of burlap pulled taut across a wooden frame. As she pierces pieces of fleece with a ‘progger’ in and out of the burlap, she explains she was 11 when the war began, living in the outskirts of Newcastle. During her teenage years, she also faced the threat of attack. Though she was young, she says, “We understood what was going on, we weren’t that sheltered.” She describes one of her most memorable moments from the war: “There were these halls above the shops, and they held dances here almost every night of the week. During one night I spent there, a bomb was dropped. The confusion was terrible. Lights went out, there was dust and muck and allsorts flying around.”

Making the best of the situation in the community

Jean recognises that even with the constant danger of war, “They were happy days...We were happier with what we had, and there was a sense of community.” The common experience drew communities together, all willing to give a helping hand. “Neighbours were neighbours,” Jean remembers, “and if you were ill, they would come round with cups of tea and meals, checking you were alright. If someone had a baby, you’d go and get so-and-so from next door.”

Betty even remembers how, “If someone died, our next door neighbour would come round and lay them out. You didn’t need funeral directors, you had neighbours!” She recalls how many women used to sit together by the fire, ‘progging’ their mats as she is today, talking for hours.

Even through times of ‘black balloons’ and blackouts, Jean insists that “you weren’t afraid to be in the dark” in the neighbourhood. You were able to walk securely through your neighbourhood with only a tiny torch to light the curbs in front of you in the blackouts. Many people didn’t even lock their front doors, whilst others had their key readily available on a string in their post box.

Family

Betty’s late husband George Marshall, who was a gunner on board a military ship, went missing for a period of time, and was found having caught malaria. He was taken to a small river town in Essex, Connecticut (USA), and stayed with a kind couple here before being sent back onto a ship. She describes how, “when he came back from America, he had a great big chest with tea inside. His mother gave everyone in the street a cup of tea!” Tea was in high demand in England, as it was rationed at that time. George’s mother told him that when he went missing again and ended up in America again, he’d better bring back some more tea!”

Jean’s late husband Joe Carr also served in the war, and was awarded the Dunkirk medal, becoming a Freeman in 1947. “The day war broke out, he was 18, in the territorials. They were all marching down Northumberland Street in Newcastle. A woman ran out to him, and said, ‘Oh you’re just a bairn’, and handed him an orange! He went missing, bless him, and wounded his ankle, but he did alright really. Although, they had to feed his ankle with maggots to get all the bad stuff out of it.”

Betty remembers the horror that men serving in the war endured: “They must have seen some awful sights. Whole ships would go disappear, and all the men with it. Lucky he [her husband George] was alright. But my husband never talked about it.”

Jean agrees: “It was Joe’s mother who told me. She told me how, when he was missing, she worked in a bank. Every day, after work, she would go down to the Station and see if any soldiers had come in, see if he was in.”

Memories of foreign prisoners of war

The three women reflect on their memories of the prisoners of war in England. Shirley remembers visiting her aunt in Alnick: “They used to bring prisoners of war there, working on the roads. As a child, I remember being quite terrified of them, seeing them out on the roads.” Betty has rather different memories of the foreign prisoners of war. “My aunt got very friendly with an Italian prisoner- he used to come round for tea and everything!”

“Have you ever been to the Orkney Islands, in the North of Scotland?” Betty asks. “Because there’s a chapel there, where the Italian prisoners did the ceiling, and it is absolutely beautiful.”

Rations

Shirley had a job at 14, and she remembers people coming in with their ration books even then. Indeed, Betty recalls, “Even after the war, it was a long time before you could get food that wasn’t rationed. You got used to doing without.”

And often, they had no choice but to do without. During the war, Betty and Jean remember, “you got one egg a week and two ounces of butter”. But Jean insists, “But we got through it. You would stand in a queue in a shop, not even knowing what you were queuing for, and there’d often be nothing left by the time you got to the front.”

Betty agrees, remembering when she queued for 2 hours in town for a pair of nylon stockings. The women all remember painting their legs when they couldn’t get hold of any, even using a pencil to draw a line for the seam!

Memories of Air Raid Shelters

Despite the very real risk of bombing, Betty insists they didn’t live in fear of attack.

Jean agrees, “The air raid shelters were enough for protection,” remembering the one they had at the bottom of the garden. Betty’s family had an air raid shelter in the garden too, and recalls time spent there: “My mother used to make us trousers to wear, and a scarf, which we’d wear like a pixie hat! We would sit there with a little oil lamp until we got the all clear.”

However, as Shirley describes, “Not everyone had an air raid shelter, and had to go in the cupboard or under the table in the event of an attack”.

“It all depended on the council,” agrees Betty, and fondly recalls how they used to use theirs as a play den after the war! When it got full of water, they would put their wellies on and go and play, creating something positive and happy out of the experience of war.

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