BACK

 Come 1944 the Rover Social Club began to extend its activities. The first away Dance was at the 'Black Horse' a well known hostelry in a nearby town. Our works S.J.A.B. were asked to cover the Dance. With some reluctance we did so. Anyway this first one went off quietly and was enjoyed so much that the Club booked a local Gliderdrome five miles away for the evening for Rover personnel and their friends. There was several of these in the next two years, one included a cabaret and what a night that was. I had four S.J.A.B. men on duty. By 12 o' O'clock we must have been the only ones sober, well, three of us. Alf Hurst fell by the wayside. The events of the evening sobered him up. It started with Doug Winters rushing to tell me Jack Danter, a tool-setter, had grabbed his bottle of sal-volate, swigging the lot, queer how blokes in booze will drink anything. With all the booze he had inside him I couldn't see him coming to any harm, and told Doug not to worry about it. Then the works Maintenance Foreman a huge chap, collapsed with a nose bleed. It was then we found out he was subject to these, Lucky for him he was, because it acted as a safety valve. We battled for half an hour, cold compresses, in fact everything we could think of. The works senior Sister helped. also a young American Forces Doctor. He said he had never had one like that. So off we got him to the Hospital. He was away from work for weeks. It was a Cerebal and he had to have a course of injections and a long lay off. Apparently it had happened before. For half an hour that dance hall foyer floor was like a battlefield with blood everywhere. The carpets must have been ruined.

 The Cabaret was a great success. Two of the Star Turns came from the No.2. factory at Solihull. The 'Gag' was, they were transferred to Drakelow to work, booked in at the Hostels and given a two berth chalet next to mine and Les Wells. They were told if they liked it here it could be made a permanancy. The first we realised we had neighbours was the 'snores' that came from next door. I had never heard anything like it.

 We simply could not sleep. Three days after the cabaret, all was quiet. Unbelievingly so. Enquiries at reception solved it. Oh, they have gone back to Solihull. The reason staggered us though. They couldn't sleep the beds were too hard. "Hurrah for that" and what a relief. Miss Steadman Hostel manageress suggested a committee be formed of representatives from staff and residents with herself Chairman. It met with approval from all sides. Our block of 64 residents voted me on to it. Catering was always to the fore on the agenda. Some of it was unreasonable, we were to my thinking, luckier than most. Fine well appointed buildings, competent staff and the Chef was good. One observation he made in Committee that I will always remember. Quote: - "You'd think they'd always been used to chicken stuffed with chicken".

 Twice on the Anniversary of the Hostel opening in 1943 we had a Birthday Dance with Buffet. Chef schemed throughout the year to provide a special feast. It was a sight to see, all laid out in the dining room. Some folk were never satisfied. The moaners were there. We could have had some of that every day. With hundreds to cater for, what was taken out wouldn't have made all that much difference. One of the Hostel receptionists also served on committee. She was about 25yrs of age and told me she was in the intelligence Section of "Naffie" and was earmarked to be sent to Japan when the war was over. That shows the forward thinking that was taking place. Another pointer on that was early in 1945. A German Proffessor was picked up by plane from Germany and flown to Britain. He was tucked away with us at Drakelow. He'd be one of the blokes our people were getting ready to form some sort of Administration in Germany when the present rulers were deposed. He gave some lectures on how the situation came about in Germany that led to the War. Too ready with excuses for me. He spoke with great and clear English. He blamed the Prussians who had used Hitler to further their own ends.

 The Works Labour force grew rapidly, and it wasn' t long before enough talent was discovered to stage the usual style Rover Works concerts. A young l7yr old local girl was a great success and it was her first appearance on a stage show. Beryl her name was. She worked as a Rover Inspector in my department and was very popular with the boys, how could it be otherwise. Rover had its Inspectors in every Department. Limits were strict. Master cards that accompanied every batch of components had to be stamped with the Inspectors number after every operation. These master cards carried the check No's of every operater that had handled the component. There was no excuse or escape for bad workmanship. Another team of inspectors moved freely within the works They were A.I.D. - Aeronautical Inspection Department, coming under the Air ministry, not Rover. They acted as a strict quality standard control. One of Rover's Inspectors organised a Dance for Rover S.J.A.B. funds at a village four miles away. It was a great success, but what a walk late at night, and in such a wilderness.

 Quite a few of the Hostel staff were semi-professional. The girl who cleaned and tidied the rooms of our block was a brilliant performer with ropes, lassoing. whirling them round her in an astonish ingly accomplished way. Mr.Horton, himself a professional, organised them together with talented residents in to a Pantomime. He took them around the neighbouring Hostels -a Chrristmas treat for all and the 'Yanks' raved about it. The first Pantomime they had ever seen. These social activities helped to mitigate the weariness that long hours and stiff production schedules brought us. Money was made available for this. The phrase "Recreation for tired munition workers" was often used jokingly. Transport would be laid on to and from the Hostels. To see and hear us made a mockery of the phrase. It was a tonic to be doing something other than work.

 One Rover night at the Gliderdrome stands out in my memory it was just before: D.Day. The small town was teaming with troops from Army camps in the area. British, U.S. Poles, Czetch, Air Force the lot. For almost every night of the year the Gliderdrome was open to the public A focal point, especially for troops. The Foyer was massed with men in uniform trying to get in. They were coming to a point where they could force entry. A short flight of stairs led to the dance floor. Our Ex. R.U.C. Works Policeman stood alone, except for me, the only barrier to entry. Someone must have 'phoned the Police. An Inspector came and explained to them that it was a private night and an all ticket dance. He didn't stay so we were on our own. Mac was marvelous, quiet, non-provocative, but resolute and firm. His "Move back off the stairs gentlemen please" whilst not always obeyed, did prevent a rush.

 For shame's sake I couldn' t leave him, although strictly speaking it was none of my business. Meanwhile we were being slowly edged up the stairs. They were mostly 'Yanks', the Biggest agitator was a Tommy full of booze who was egging on some sailors to rush in. Nobody came to our help. Jack Willams (Charge Hand) came down took one look and skived off. It seemed to go on for ages, maybe about 10 .30 to 11 o' clock. If Mac was worried he didn't show it. I was near giving up. There we were, Mac in his works Police uniform, me in S.J.A.B. officer's, two dark amongst 30 or 40 khaki. Suddenly in walked a little American wearing a white helmet and carrying a long stick. A U. S. Military Policeman. I'm not exagerating, within two minutes the only ones left were a few Britishers. I have never seen blokes look so sheepish, especially the agitator who only a few minutes earlier was inciting the sailor. "Here's you Jack, bring in the food across the Atlantic, risking your life, and they won't let you into a dance".

  Soon we were alone and thankful it was all over. The atmosphere had be been explosive. One false move would have sparked off a rush that would have engulfed us, leaving us without doubt the worst for wear. One man's courage and steadfastness saved the day. I like to think l shared something special with Mac that night. The night, a wild one, wasn't over for us four S .J.A.B. men on duty. Our final act was to carry some of the young girls from the coach to their billets. Some, I'm sorry to say, in drunken stupor.

CONTINUED