A SHROPSHIRE BEVIN BOY RECALLS

A Bevin Boy recalls

Yes I was one of those unfortunate few .......... the number given to me when I had my medical ended with the wrong digit !!

I went to Hereford for my medical with Gilbert Powell a friend and asked him to go first in line. Gilbert was asked if he had any hobbies and replied that he was interested in photography. He was recruited into the Army Photographic Corp and ended up, I am told, assisting Alan Wicker to cover the Armies advance up Italy.

My turn was next and I told the examining officer that I had served in the ATC since my school years and was proud to have earned my a, b, and c, gliding licenses. ( I still have my Medical Card stamped A I and he wrote ) " Waive " in red on my card,

I was on my way to join a great boyhood friend already in the RAF.

It would have been be difficult for me to describe my disappointment to be informed subsequently that I was to spend my national service underground.
And there appeared to be no way out
I quote from:-

Min of Labour and National Service - form E.D. 383 (C.T.C.) Emergency Powers ( Defence ) Acts, 1939-1940 Direction issued under Regulation 58A of the Defence ( General) regulations 1939 ( which I still keep )

Any person failing to comply with the direction Regulation 58A of the Defence ( General ) Regulations, 1939 is liable to summary conviction to imprisonment for a term not exceeding three months, or to a fine not exceeding £100 or to both such imprisonment and such fine. Any person failing to comply after such a conviction is liable to a further conviction to a fine not exceeding five pounds for every day on which the failure continues.
The average weekly wage for an artisan in those days was around £3.00 so this, apart from the imprisonment, was a hefty fine.

But being young and disciplined as we all were in those days, I did as I was told and reported to the Oakdale Training Center, Blackwood Monmouthshire for training. After two weeks of chats, they couldn’t possibly be called lectures, given by miners recruited from local mines for that purpose and after moving many tons of coal from one huge heap to another " to give you the feel of a shovel buttie " and one trip down a real coal mine we were all given our orders to report to various pits to start work. The pit I was sent to was at Markham just north of Blackwood and owned by The Tredegar Iron and Steel Co.Ltd.,

So the only alternative for me was prison. Looking back I now I know that I could have called the authorities bluff by refusing to become a member of the NUM ( a book for us to sign was thrust in front of us on our first day at Oakdale training centre ). There was no way that miners at any pit in the country would accept anyone without full NUM membership, even in wartime.

Now comes a stroke of good fortune. An aunt of mine recalled that a boy from my village in Shropshire, finding work pre war, hard to come by, had gone to South Wales to become a miner. Jim Acton settled in Markham and hearing of my plight he and his wife Wyn welcomed me with open arms, as lodger at £2.75 per week. He insisted too that I worked with him on the same coal face so that " I can keep an eye on this Shropshire lad and listen to his accent " ( I did not know I had one ). There were occasions when he would want a breather and tell me to recite a poem or tell a tale, when he would tell others " I could listen to this lad all day he reminds me of home " I only knew one ( clean) poem " How Horatio held the Bridge - ................ " learned in detention at school would you believe, but it kept Jim happy.

I could tell from the start that this was not the life for me and on the slightest excuse, illness or otherwise bad weather included, I would be off to Shropshire on my trusty Triumph motor bike. Jim knew how I felt and got an Over man ( big boss ) to give me a job assisting a worker to install water infusion systems which were supposed to help keep the killer coal dust in check. A two inch hole had to be drilled using a six foot long coal drill driven by the nosiest compressed air motor you have ever heard. The compressor was shoulder mounted right by you ear which meant that the noise was literally deafening. Ear muffs ? Never heard of them. I am still deaf. A watertight self sealing pipe was then inserted and the water left to flow for a minute or so.

That job lasted one whole winter through during which I only saw proper daylight on Sundays. Up at six AM, down the pit at 7AM and back up at 3.30 PM straight into the pithead baths. Dark dark dark. My complexion went from rosy cheeked country lad to a tubercular like pallid face.

At the start of the next spring I was off back to Onibury and often went to see my father’s friends who had a farm and much good cider !!! As petrol was rationed I rode my bike a mile or two to see them and imbibed ............. one evening I thought I would do some fancy side slips and turns downhill on gravel on the way back home but over did it, fell off my bike and fractured my thumb.
My father took me to the doctors next morning ( bones were protruding and it hurt like the devil all night ) and then on to the Agnes Hunt Orthopedic Hospital nr Oswestry where they said they would try to save my thumb !!!
The next two weeks I spent there were some of the best weeks of my war. Cosseted by young attractive nurses ( my cousin later called them " the flower of Shropshire womanhood " ) given all the food I could eat and weather, permitting my bed would be pulled onto a verandah where I soaked up the sunshine. I replaced my ashen complexion with a tan and got to know a trainee nurse or two. What bliss ......

" What is your occupation ? " asked a consultant there
" Coal miner "
" Your injury will take some while to mend in the meantime you could not possibly handle a pick and shovel"
" No sir, I could not possibly "

That was the start of at least two months of unashamed malingering until I received a letter from the dreaded MINISTRY OF LABOUR wanting to know why I was not at Markham pit.
" Report to Worcester on XX /XX/ XX "
" If you do not report there within the next 7 days we shall have no alternative but to draft you into the forces as they are desperate for air crew."

Yippee. At last I can join the RAF

Well you guessed, I was still soaking up cider and sun in Onibury so they eventually they wrote again.
“Report to Worcester”..
" We have reviewed and considered you case and have decided we do not require your services ............ "

Damnit no RAF

One last sting in the tale. The Min of Lab decided that Bevin Boys would not, unlike all other ex service men, be able to claim back the jobs they had prior to their call up so even that was lost. No demob suit. No rail fare home. No further education at the expense of the State.
The British Legion did not want to know either no-one did.
Thanks a lot politicians, governments et tout. I guess that was payement for my malingering.
But being being made a civilian again turned out to be the best thing that happened in my war. I took up another line of work and did exceeding well.

I went back to Markham two years ago to see my old pit but it and the pithead baths had gone .... not a sign. The small river in the valley botom no longer ran " bible black " with coal dust but clear as crystal.The miners houses up the hill were there still just as grim with their rain soaked slate roofs and tiny front gardens.

To add to his other talents Jim Acton became a Lt.Col in the Territorial Army and Deputy Lt.of the County of Monmouthshire but worked on as a miner until retiremaent.

Years later I met and married Jim's niece but that is another long long story

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