The Wartime Memories Project - The Great War
North West England

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I was born on 2nd June, 1911 and I had two older brothers who were called Bernard and Ray. In the First World War, I can remember the searchlights being on all night and when a Zeppelin was seen, everybody was told, and we had to go down into the cellars. It seemed to happen every night at the start of the war, when I was about three. We liked watching the searchlights through our bedroom windows before the alarms went. There was no rationing and it was, “first come, first served” at the shops. We didn’t have much money and I was very underweight. The Social Services sent my brother Ray and me to a convalescent home in Conway in Wales to build us up. I stayed there but my mum came and took Ray home. The women who looked after us took us out every day and we had to go climbing in the mountains or swim in the sea for our health. The food was rough and I didn’t like it but we had to eat everything. We had a glass of milk every morning and bedtime was at six o’clock in the evening. We slept in revolving shelters – two in each. There was no covering at the front and it was open to the elements. I was about six when I went and I was there for three years. I only had one visit from my parents in all that time. We had a meal together in the summerhouse and they stayed a few hours and then went home. My father was in the trenches during the war and my mother had four children at home so I suppose it was difficult to make the journey. Whilst I was in the home they had a gardening competition and all the children got a little plot. I put sweet peas at the back, then verbena and stocks and pansies at the front. At night I used to hear the trains going past on their way to Manchester and I used to say, “When will I go home – this year, next year, sometime, never.” We had no school down there but a tutor used to come in sometimes and teach us history. In 1920 my mother brought me home. I had two little sisters who I had never seen and they called me “tin ribs”. The lack of schooling affected me as I was nine years old before I had any real education. I was regarded as bright and was given money for answering questions correctly. I could do all the work that was asked of me and I was very good at composition but I never did algebra or geometry. I developed my English because whenever I read a word I didn’t understand I always looked it up in the dictionary and learned it. My lack of education meant that I failed the 11-plus so I only got an elementary education at The Holy Name School in Greenheys, Manchester. My dad was gassed during the war and he got a pension as he could not work. One day he received a letter that said the gassing had only aggravated his chest condition not caused it and they stopped his pension. We got food tickets from the Public Assistance and my brothers and I all got paper rounds and the money we earned paid the rent. I left school at the age of fourteen and got a job as an errand boy in a grocer’s shop. One of my jobs was to fill the bags but I wasn’t allowed to weigh stuff out. There were two girls in charge and they used to shout “Roddy” when they wanted me, they never used my first name. I had to go outside and bring eggs in for customers and also take orders round on a little truck. The wage was eight shillings a week but sometimes people gave me a tip when I delivered their groceries. In Victoria Park there were lots of big houses that had been turned into nursing homes and the matron of one where I was delivering told me that her cook had left so I said my mum was a good cook and she gave her a job. I was ambitious and applied for lots of job and I went to a warehouse called Phillips and got a job there at fourteen shillings a week. I only had to work from nine to five unlike the shop were the hours were 8.30 am until 5.30 pm. When there was a threat of air raids the boss asked for volunteers to watch the warehouse during the night in case of incendiary bombs. I agreed to do it and was trained as a fireman. The pay for this was better than my salary because in my job you didn’t get your full wage until you were over twenty-one. John Edmund Roddy WAR YEARS IN WALTON VILLAGE In the early years of my life, like many others, we accepted life for what it was and we tried to get through all the hard times. My father Frederick James George was just 16yrs old when he became the manager of the local butchers shop called 'Dewhursts' off Nimrod Street,County Road, Walton,Liverpool. It is understodd, the shop was re-named the Argentine Meatshop in later years. Dad's father, was also named Frederick George, a seafarer and a very tall man. My mother Elizabeth (maiden name Baker) from Penzance in Cornwall, told us, father was liked in and around Walton, but he was not a well person and suffered from arthritis. She said, "He wore leg braces and didn't find this out until their wedding night." Father died of ill health at the young age of 33yrs, prior to my 4th birthday. I had two brothers and five sisters. The mortality rate was very high in those days with two of my sisters Olive and Daisy both dying very young, through ill health. The family, were going through very hard times when it was announced the first World War was about to begin. As mother had little money, to look after us, the children were fostered out to a family who lived near the Lake Districts, until the end of World War 1. Although, the family were very nice to us, it felt as though we were in service. I remember, the lady of the house liked sandwiches with a thin slice of cake in the centre. We thought that was very posh and it made us laugh. After the first World War had ended, we were sent back home to mother in Liverpool, who was really pleased and cried when she saw us. The older children had to find jobs almost immediately, to help mother and the family. We were all still so very young. We moved from the shop at Nimrod Street, to a rented terraced house at 27 Elm Road,Walton Village. The house had two rooms upstairs and two rooms downstairs, with an outside toilet. There was not much room for mother and six children. I started a job in the Metal Box Factory, with remarks from some saying, I was too young and I shouldn't be taking a man's job away from him. My mother told me I should let a married man have the job. I was given a trial by the factory supervisor, who was pleased and impressed with what I could do for one so young. He gave me the job and I was trained up and qualified as a tin machinist. The years just seemed to go by and all my brothers and sisters who were still living at home thought it was their duty to bring their pay home to help mum keep the family. we had very little time for recreation, yet when their was a moment, I used to love going dancing at Swansons dance rooms in the village. Mum bought a wooden caravan bungalow on a site in Chester and she took us their on weekends to get away from the city. On the outbreak of World War II, my older brother Frederick joined the Royal Navy and served on the 'HMS Defactable'. He was returned home from Malta with serious shrapnel wounds to neck. Mother also heard, that her brother Ernie Baker (RAF) a Dam Buster was misssing in action. As the war got more intense, our factory became a munitions factory to help the war effort. I joined the St.John's Ambulance and Auxillary Reserve, as a volunter Air Raid Warden. I passed the examination for Air Raid Precautions and was delegated to help look after the people in my street. With our khaki bag and gas mask, we had to make patrols and check all the doors and windows to each house to make sure people had blacked them out. In the event of an air raid we also had to get people out of their houses and into the air raid shelters when an alert was made. At the bottom of Elm Road, a railway track ran straight across a bridge and down to the Liverpool Docklands. The track was used to transport munitions from Napiers factory and down to the docks to be sent with our troops to Europe. The Germans 'Gerry' tried to bomb the train many times, but seemed to miss it each time. The bombs that were dropped in the area caused major damage to the older brick terraced homes, with slate roofs. On one particular night we had got a warning there was going to be an air raid. I had just got the last person evacuated and was making my way to the shelter. I could see the whole area was lit up with incendiary bombs dropped by 'Gerry'. The next moment there was a loud piercing screaming noise, them everything went very quiet for what seemed like ages. There was a whoosh! sound and it felt as though, I had been lifted and thrown to the entrance of the air raid shelter. I was totally winded and shocked and could not get my breath for several moments. I can count myself lucky, I was not seriously injured. After the all clear was sounded, it was discovered, one of the homes at the top of the road had half of its upstairs bedroom and downstairs front room missing. Florence George. Air Raid Precautions Auxiliary Reserve No. 4 District Lancashire (Taken from Florence George memoirs) If you have a story or any photographs which you would like to share please get in touch. Send an E-mail to The Wartime Memories Project Website and ALL Material © Copyright MM - All Rights Reserved