Jambusters (32 page)

A personal tragedy struck her family when she heard that her nephew, Colin, had been badly injured in an air raid on London and had to have his foot amputated. His wife Peggy had been killed. That evening Mrs Milburn was meant to be playing the lead part in her WI’s sketch, which she and others had written and rehearsed over the last four months. During the afternoon she worked in the garden, sowing seeds and digging: ‘one just had to be
doing
,’ she wrote in her diary that night.

Then the evening came and I went across and did my part with the ‘properties’ for the entertainment and stood at the end as ‘Britannia’ with a very sad heart. But it is best to go on, with whatever is one’s job at the moment . . . The young go and we old ones are left. They seem the ones so fitted to build a better world after this madness is over. Peggy, so capable and so sane, killed by this ruthless enemy. And what of Colin? If only we could hear more.
¹⁵

Mrs Blewitt’s family suffered several bitter tragedies. Her nephew, Bill Blewitt, was killed over Tunisia in January 1943. He was in the Parachute Regiment. Fourteen months earlier another Blewitt nephew had been killed: Richard Budworth died in North Africa and was commemorated on the Alamein memorial. His remains were never found and his mother, Helen, was completely broken by his death. She had lost her husband, Major General Budworth, in 1921 in the First World War and his body too had not been found. Mrs Blewitt was deeply touched by both
the deaths. And then, in 1944, came the closest tragedy. Her sister Kitty’s only child was killed in Burma. The war took its final toll on the Blewitt family when Johnnie Fenwick, another cousin, was killed in France. Every time a death was announced her concern for her own son, James, grew stronger, but he was fortunate to survive the war and she was spared the horror of losing her only son.

These were personal tragedies and individual families bore the pain. One event over all others united the Women’s Institute in collective grief in January 1940 and that was the announcement of the death of their vice-chairman, Miss Hadow, after a brief attack of pneumonia. She was only sixty-five and the news came as a terrible blow to everyone. Lady Denman wrote: ‘How ever shall we do without her? – not only her great ability, but her absolute unselfishness, her cool judgement, her cheerful confidence, her complete integrity, her warm understanding of and sympathy with the weakness of others, her oratory and her wit: qualities which made a combination we cannot hope to find again. The loss to the Institute movement is irreparable, as is the personal one to her friends and colleagues.’
¹⁶
A member of her own institute of Quarry in Oxford, which met the night she died, said simply: ‘worse than the war’. One of many stories that abounded about her after her death was that of a day in Oxford when she, as the newly appointed Principal of the Society of Oxford Home Students, was invited to take part in commemoration events. She was seen dressed up in her smart grey dress and shoes ‘with her academic hood, the trickiest part of her costume, already pinned on, gardening zealously to the last’.
¹⁷
She felt it summed up Miss Hadow perfectly: the academic with the countrywoman’s touch. The WI set up a holiday fund in her memory and asked institutes to contribute to it. Several sent in the profits from their jam-making work while others made special collections and the
amount of money raised reflected the very great affection members felt for this remarkable woman.

One effect of the war was the strong sense of camaraderie that it created. A WI member wrote that the local ARP had celebrated its 100th air-raid warning. ‘Later, after the “all clear”, in the strange stillness that follows the noise of battle, we agreed that there are things about the war that we shall miss in the peace. Beautiful things – searchlights, weaving those flat, milky patterns across the sky; balloons, like bubbles rising out of our seething cauldron; the amazing loveliness of stars and dawn, that for years we have slept too soundly to think about at all.’
¹⁸
She went on: ‘We should miss, indeed, if we lost them now, the general friendliness, the humour and courage, common sense and imagination, that break out in such unexpected places. Most of all we should miss what the Prime Minister calls the feeling that “we all stand in together”.’
¹⁹

That sense of standing together was celebrated at every meeting when the women stood to sing ‘Jerusalem’ and closed with the National Anthem. This routine seldom changed, except for special occasions or events. In November 1942 the Audlem minutes’ secretary recorded: ‘As this week the news had been broadcast that the Eighth Army in Egypt had won a great victory against the German and Italian forces, Mrs Williams suggested we opened the meeting with the National Anthem.’

Mobberley WI in Cheshire, founded in 1928, prided itself on working hard to ensure the highest quality in everything they did. During the 1930s they engaged a conductor to help them sing ‘Jerusalem’, as members had decided it was badly sung. ‘This must have done the trick for in 1937 the visiting VCO, Miss Forbes, in her Organisers Report writes: “I have never heard ‘Jerusalem’ sung with better rhythm and spirit; it gave the key-note for the whole meeting which was excellent in every way.”’
²⁰

Music has always played a major role in WI life, from community singing at social half-hours to performances at national events by WI choirs. In 1940 six musicians were appointed by Sir Walford Davies ‘to inspire and organise musical activities among civilians in rural areas’. The scheme was originally funded by the Pilgrim Trust. It was later taken over by the newly formed Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts, which was the forerunner of the Arts Council of Great Britain. One of the six musicians was the composer Imogen Holst, who had returned from Switzerland at the outbreak of war. In February 1942 she attended Oxfordshire’s annual general meeting in Oxford and the minutes read: ‘Miss Imogen Holst conducted community singing and practised members in singing “Jerusalem”. This was her farewell visit, a spray of Christmas roses and other winter flowers was given to her as a token of affectionate appreciation and gratitude for her music and her help given in the County.’
²¹

Oxfordshire also supported a school for conductors, specially designed to encourage village choirs. The school was taught by Sir Adrian Boult, and Mrs Woods, a Headington WI member, recalled her own experience of it:

His demonstrations in handling the baton to give clear and well-timed directions are unforgettable. Sir Adrian Boult has recently written of the Deneke Sisters, both of whom were members of our Headington WI that they were ‘a great beacon in Oxford Music’. The beacon spread its light far into Oxfordshire villages through Helena Deneke’s devoted and untiring work during the long years of her secretaryship of the OFWI. Of Margaret Deneke Sir Adrian writes: ‘that one could not meet her without sensing the great power of character and musicianship which was poured out for others, and for so many others’.
²²

Her most poignant memory, however, was of the WI choir of Charlton on Otmoor singing ‘Jerusalem’ unaccompanied. ‘The singing was delicate but assured – it stays in the mind like the fragrance of wild flowers. Too often we have heard Parry’s beautiful but difficult piano part played on a bad piano – why do we not more often sing unaccompanied?’

Surrey County Federation had an exceptionally successful music festival in 1943 when 200 members met at Guildford Technical College to sing under the direction of Ralph Vaughan Williams. They rehearsed for two and a half hours before giving their performance. One member wrote about how much she had enjoyed singing under his guidance and that she lost herself in the beauty of the music and being part of something that was bigger than herself. ‘We learn from this to find our true selves in others – and here music can help.’
²³

Bradfield WI had elected to hold its meetings in the afternoons rather than the evenings during the war. They lost their meeting place, the Connop Room, in early 1941 so met in the president’s house, Horseleas. As Mrs Sims was keen to attend the WI meetings she had no option but to allow her two children, Ann and John, to come to the house after school to meet her. Ann said: ‘I remember cycling down to WI meetings. I must have been about six or seven. We used to be allowed to sit in the back of the room as long as we were mousey quiet. I suppose we used to arrive in time for the social half-hour because my main memory is of music and the drama. Some of what they put on was excellent and of a high standard.’

A particular success that Ann remembered, and Mrs Ward wrote in the record ‘how greatly did we enjoy it’, was the dress rehearsal for two scenes from
Pride and Prejudice
which were to be performed at the county drama competition in 1943. ‘Mrs Bennett was played by Mrs Bird and Elizabeth by Mrs Clarke. She
was an evacuee from London, young and very pretty. She brought a great deal to Bradfield WI including her talent for acting. We missed her sorely when she went back home.’ Mrs Clarke rented a house in Bradfield for the whole of the war and became a liked and respected member of the community. ‘Mr Collins was played by Mrs Reeves. She always got the man’s role because she had an Eton crop and could carry it off with great success. She was a real stalwart of our WI. She was keen on bell ringing and she rode around the village on a bicycle. She was one of many great characters in the institute. When the younger postmen were conscripted she took over as postwoman.’

Music was as popular in Bradfield as amateur dramatics. Ann recalled an entertaining performance of ‘Riding Down from Bangor’, an American student’s song in which a bewhiskered student takes advantage in a long train tunnel of a pretty young girl in his carriage. As the train comes out of the tunnel evidence of his amorous advances can be seen: ‘Maiden seen all blushes when then and there appeared/ a tiny little earring, in that horrid student’s beard.’ Mrs Bird with a false beard took the part of the horrid student.

Mrs Sims had to play the piano at WI meetings but she struggled with ‘Jerusalem’, as clearly other pianists did too, so on one occasion she brought a gramophone to the meeting. Unfortunately she had put the record on the wrong side and instead of hearing ‘Jerusalem’ the ladies got the B side, which was ‘Rule Britannia’. Fortunately everyone saw the funny side of it. Music was an important part of their WI and Ann remembered Mrs Howlett’s lovely contralto voice. She would sing songs from the current favourites but also older melodies. Mrs McCaskie, Mrs Howlett’s daughter, was good at whistling, which Ann thought was wonderful. She told her mother she wanted to learn to whistle like Mrs McCaskie and her mother replied that she would be
able to once her permanent front teeth had come through. She never did learn but she remembered Mrs McCaskie entertaining the WI with popular tunes. Ann found her rather exotic, with long red-painted fingernails and long dark hair. As most women wore muted colours during the war, those who wore bright colours stood out and made an impression on the children. Ann said:

most women, as far as I can recall, wore hats and gabardine macs. Mrs Adams, who helped my mother with National Savings and village gossip, always wore the same outfit in drab colours but a few wore what we called ‘frumpo-artistic clothes’ – hand woven skirts and the like. Miss Brooks, the dancing teacher, wore a red and white jazzy dress and Mrs Leyton, who was evacuated to live with us, had blond shoulder-length hair and wore make-up, which was considered a bit fast by people like our parents.

One of the land girls was even more fascinating for Ann. She had dyed her hair with henna and wore mascara as well as make-up. ‘I’d never seen anything like it,’ she admitted with a twinkle.

As for millions of other children, the Second World War dominated Ann’s childhood. Everything about village life was affected by the war. The predominant change was of course the number of men who left the village to fight. However, the incoming evacuee families also made their mark on Bradfield and, prior to the construction of an American camp at the end of the village towards the latter part of the war, the most significant development was the new school in Bucklebury, the next-door village. A Mr Stapleforth from Purley, south of Croydon, evacuated himself and his family to Bucklebury in 1940. He took a house in Paradise Lane, where he lived with his
two daughters and two grandsons. One of the daughters, Eileen, was unmarried. She was a violin teacher and, determined to do her bit for the war effort, she offered her services to Mr and Mrs Ward as a land girl. The Wards did not require her help on the farm but Mrs Ward told Miss Stapleforth that she was in need of a school for her two young daughters, Dorcas and Marion, and of course other children in Bradfield and the surrounding area whose numbers had been swelled by evacuation.

Ann explained: ‘The upshot was that Miss Stapleforth took over the Orchard Tea Room in Bucklebury, which had closed for the duration, and opened the Orchard Kindergarten there in September 1940. At first she was the only teacher, but as the school flourished she took on more staff and opened a second classroom in a summerhouse in the garden of Mr and Mrs Castello at Green Meadows.’ Even that was not sufficient and Miss Stapleforth purchased a prefabricated building which provided two further classrooms. Bucklebury was just over a mile from the Southend area of Bradfield and the children either walked, took the number 11 bus or cycled to school, in the later war years through the American army camp. ‘Miss Stapleforth was an inspired teacher – she took us for English and needle-work as well as singing. Her sister, Mrs Pritchard (whose two young sons were in the school), was an elocution mistress and under her tutelage we produced either a concert or a play at the end of each term. Our theatre was the kitchen of the Old Manor. I well remember walking in crocodile down the hill to Bucklebury village for rehearsals.’