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Drakelow

The Diaries of Albert Fowler Continued.....

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I never once got the Fire-Watchers out - they were too boozed mostly. We First-aiders, a dedicated lot did so, putting in an hours practice with the surgery staff. We were so far away from the violence of war it was hard to keep personnel on their toes. We felt safe and secure. The only way the enemy could have put us out of action was to dive-bomb the entrance to the tunnels. Five well aimed ones and the blast would have run round and round inside bringing death and distruction with it. Cheerful thought.

Camoflage is a sort of security measure. An underground factory shows little sign on the surface to indicate a thriving industry below. Near 100% secure from enemy detection or attention. The unexpected can and does occur to upset carefully thought out camoflage. February 1944 gave us an exceptional spell of fine weather. For a week the temperature rose for a few hours around midday into the 70's. After dinner in the Canteen at midday, almost the whole works personnel made its way up-top to sit or lie, on the sandstone hill and bask in the glorious sun. (In winter we often didn't see daylight for a week). The presence of masses of people in a place where none should be (a dead give away) was reported to security who clamped down immediately by putting the hill out of Bounds.

The nights were bitterly cold with sharp frosts. A typical winter high pressure system.

In April 1944 The blood transfusion service spent a whole day at the works. Works Surgery had previously ran an appeal for volunteer donors of which there were no lack and had got it all organised. The old school House which served as our Civil Defence H.Q. was cleaned out and equiped like a hospital ward. Works Civil Defence personnel had volunteered 100%. A mistake this, we found out later.

No time was wasted off production. Time Schedules had been worked out. In our turn we were ushered to a bare mattress covered bedstead. A blood sample was taken from a prick on the ear and in no time at all, after a few questions from the Doctor, the 7/8 of a pint was taken, via the arm. It is a fascinating sight to watch your blood gradually filling the bottle.

No time is lost. As soon as the bottle is full the day being warm and sunny we sat outside to take the usual cup of tea and biscuit during the compulsory 20 minute rest, watched over by one of the works sisters. The Fire Service Chief who was in our batch, drank his tea, stood up and said "I could do that again" then down he went with a wollop. Standing up had drained the blood, already at a low ebb, from the brain. Two of us began to get up to help. "No" said the Sister, "Stay where you are or you will go down too". It happened to others throughout the day. That's when we realised, or should I say I realised, some of the First Aiders should not have volunteered for this particular day.

Observations on reaction behaviour of donors showed many variations. Some were slow to recover, whilst others said so and looked better for the blood-letting. All to do with the individuals normal blood pressure I guess. The type of job the donor returned to had some bearing on it. My chaps work is hard and heavy and few of them volunteered, and rightly so. My reaction was about average, but then I could sit down if I wanted to. Blood group A, the most common was my group. The National Blood Transfusion Service was working flat out, Huge Blood Banks were being built up, in readiness for the invasion, which couldn't be far off now.

The interior of the old school house photographed in 1982 just prior to its demolition.

Nurse Vowden from our Surgery, who was on duty with the Transfusion Service, came from the Channel Isles, getting away from there just before the Germans occupied them. Her Father was a wealthy Banker and stayed on. Gibbons, the Tunnel Engineer swore he was a Quisling. Vowden certainly looked the typical Big Blond German fraulein. Sour grapes on Gibbons part? Rumour hath it, his advances met with little response.

Another Jersey-ite Len Heywood worked at the Airport. After helping load up the last plane to leave the island he scrambled aboard. Who could blame him, he had no family ties. Of military age it was either the Prison camp or forced labour for him. Nurse Vowden heard from time to time via the Red Cross how her family were getting on. Some nurse !! I saw her examine a pimple on a patients face "We'll have to take the top off that" and she did so, with her finger nail. I always got on well with her. She would nobble me for a waltz at evening dance time.

I learned with great sadness of the death of my Wythalls chief Civil Defence Officer Major F.C. T.Hadley, at the age of 60 yrs. Major Hadley was a leader one could trust. A man of vast experience with activities and interests over a wide field.

His Obituary in the Redditch Indicator (Nell cut it out and sent it to me) filled a column. I'm glad the 'Old Brigade' turned out to pay homage to him. It was a pleasure to have known him and to have served under his leadership. Wythall was the poorer for his passing.

A Tunnel near the staff entrance was set aside and equipped as a Communication Centre. Telephone Exchange, Radio with "Tannoy" system throughout the tunnels. They were never used, except for a few seconds at week-ends to test the circuit, until that morning early June 1944.

At eight o' clock The speakers burst into sound. Special announcement. Allied Forces had landed on the French coast. The 'D' Day Landings. Excitement - we were lifted above ourselves. The war had entered the last stage. Every hour the news was on. Production ceased while all listened. From that day on the relays were regular. Mainly news and five minutes before the end of shift, weather conditions up top.

Other parts of the 1940's Tannoy system still survive.

One of the Tannoy speakers can still be seen in tunnel 4.

CONTINUED

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