Biography

I am Joy Richardson, who grew up in England and spent eight years in a leading boarding school, Malvern Girls College. Our teachers were very strict, we were given demerit points for talking in the hallways! Running in the hallways! Not working properly, we even had to ensure our hair did not catch on the back of our collars, so either tied back or braided if long or rolled up, we always had to sit up straight! We were all very happy and wanted to contribute our voluntary skills, and received different stripes for scholastic achievements and others for physical, gym, tennis, lacrosse, hockey, etc., which were awarded and worn on our blazers. I took my equivalent to Grade 12 at 16 telling my parents I wanted to join the navy.

Joy's Family Manor House 1931

Entry acceptance was 17 1/2, hence, the authority had to be signed by parents for so young an age and my father would not agree until I achieved a very sound level in some career for when I came out. So, I took a nine month course at Mrs. Hoster's Secretarial College, then in London, recognized as the best in the country. I had top levels in typing, and bookkeeping, as in those days, and shorthand. My friend Kitty and I came out on top for the group of more than fifty girls and were invited to become two of four secretaries needed for Sir Winston Churchill. With my dreams of the navy, I declined, but looking back, what an incredible opportunity that would have been! However, the constant discipline I received during my youthful years has stood me in great value for the rest of my life.

I remember receiving my official papers from the Admiralty instructing me to attend the Naval intake station in Glasgow just one week after turning 17 1/2! England had her back still to the wall and needed us all. I was taken to Peterborough Railway station where I joined a train full of young soldiers and other young people proudly joining the other services, still in civilian clothes. I remember we all stood for hours ensuring the boys in their army uniforms, probably going abroad, were comfortable and resting in the seats. I suppose from time to time during the long journey, more than six hours, we managed to sit on our hand luggage, but that was it!

Arriving in Glasgow we received another medical examination and interviews for our preference and capabilities. With my secretarial skills I seemed doomed to be stuck in some underground naval offices, from which I rather strongly rebelled, my intention all along to drive various vehicles close to main naval shipping ports. During my medical they found I was only five feet, one inch tall and for driving we had to be a minimum of five foot two. Another girl had the same problem, so commiserating together we hatched a plan. We would somehow break into the camp offices that night, search for the appropriate files and alter them! I can't imagine now how we had the guts to do that, but we did. So next morning we were accepted into the Motor Transport division for training. During the following weeks we drove weird little vans, learned immaculate three point turns and to use side mirrors, but no back ones. Lighting was practically nonexistent for black out fabric was strapped over very low wattage lamps in front of the vehicles, you could you probably see no more that fifty feet ahead. No lights were permitted ensuring overhead at night en route to Coventry which they basically destroyed, including other cities, such as London, for The Blitz.

So we all received painful inoculations, learned to march and parade, clean out the latrines for the men for a week (which put us in our places; service people must do as they are told!) Our arms were very painful but there was no excuse. None of us would admit we were hurting. The other girl who had doctored the file with me was known as Tweedle Dum and I was Tweedle Dee. No one ever discovered our misdemeanor, or if they did, the war was still on, they needed more good service people, so, they let us by!

Then I was transferred to Leeds for more extensive driver training. Ambulances, vans, trucks and the garbage trucks, were all on our itinerary which was just as well for I drove them all during the next eleven months. My first posting was to Chatham, Kent, near to the major port of our biggest ships. I was in the Nore Holding Depot. Here, we were under heavy attack of Buzz bombs. Twenty or thirty feet long, small wings and a big bursting flame out behind which propelled them along. They came in very low, having at that stage been fired from across the English Channel in France. Often flying overhead they touched the tops of little churches or trees.

As long as the flame kept spouting fiercely behind, emitting a buzz noise, we were safe, just looking up ahead and above, but if the engine cut out we dived for either the nearest ditch or doorway, or spread-eagled on the road. It happened often. They were heading for London, but if they erupted over the naval station that was fine, too, for the enemy! I drove up to London quite a bit, which meant I was in the Blitz where hundreds of bombs rained down upon us. Sometimes I drove trucks, occasionally naval service people, usually up to the hidden Admiralty or the London docks.

I was transferred to Skegness on the East coast of Lincolnshire, on the north side of the Wash where tides swept in and out twice a day for nearly forty miles very quickly. The camp was a training base for men who had escaped from France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Norway, etc., all being domiciled in the original Butlins Holiday Camp in rather simple buildings.. They had been made for summer use only, no insulation or heating, set in long rows. I remember to get into the Wrens eating areas we had to jump over a drain, leading from the butcher's shop, usually pouring running blood, from goodness knows what animals! I soon asked the authorities, as I had been a vegetarian, was there any hope of my receiving food without meat. Then the cooks brilliantly found me occasional poached eggs, lettuce, sardines and of course fried potatoes. I was fed very well and several of the other girls tried the same tactics, but were turned down! First come, first served!

Messirschmit fighters frequently sped very low in from the sea, peppering us with machine gun fire, then diving back out to sea. At this time there were more than 10,000 young men learning to be sailors, with just 400 Wrens coping with medical, secretarial and cleanup duties. There were four of us as official drivers only, but we had to go down into the sumps close to where the few vehicles were kept under cover, and maintain all the vehicles ourselves. There were a couple of established sailors ensuring we did the job right. I hated it, but it was part of my job.

One night, nearly 70 Norwegian sailors decided to scramble over the barbed wire entanglements along the seashore. It was a warm day, they wanted some relaxation fancying the salt water, so having climbed the wire, they dove into the sea and swam in a group several miles out. The tide turned, quickly rolling in over the Wash sand, driving them back to the beach, but it did not stop at the barbed wire, they were all swept into it and 67 drowned! I was only 18 then but my duty that night was to drive the ambulance after the dead men had been brought ashore and take them to a makeshift morgue. I was driving all night until daybreak. The following two days I drove many of them in coffins to the railway station from where they were dispatched back to friends and family, although many, I think, were buried in London as it was impossible to get them back to Norway.

Peace was coming. On May 5th 1945 the War was declared over. I was still driving at Skegness and my responsibility for two days was to drive the officers and senior personnel to a variety of celebration parties I was not invited in, as I had to look after the little car I was driving, and to remain observant just in case stray enemy planes made a last ditch attempt to fire on us in the ocean! It was rather depressing hearing everyone celebrating, drinking beer and hidden wine, which no doubt, had been stored for the occasion. I was never included, being on duty, so after depositing my personnel the following morning nearly two days after the war was over, I am afraid I saw red. I had done my bit for the war effort, I thought. Why could I not have been invited in just once for even a plate of fried eggs they were now mostly able to enjoy? Eggs had been at a premium at this stage of the war, our food was definitely hit and miss! I had been up for over 48 hours and was very weary and frankly befuddled. I suddenly saw a way out - I would drive my little vehicle back the four miles to the Camp and ask to be delivered from duty! Famous last thoughts as everyone was celebrating still. Driving into the main gate, I saw just one sailor on duty. Explaining my exhaustion to him, he took the keys, looked me over, plunked me in a bed where I soon fell into an exhausted sleep. Several hours later, the Lt. Commander, the Medical Officer, came to examined me. Perturbed, he took my mother's phone number, called her, stating that I should be removed from the camp the next day as I had a highly working heart, beating more than three times what it should, and he did not think I would live another 24 hours!

My demobilization papers were accelerated through. My mother managed to drive the 60 miles from our farm in southern Lincolnshire to the camp, where I was deposited into her care. It was not all that easy because she had brought our horse trailer up behind her car. We had to drive down to some stables near the beaches load up my gelding Duke of Windsor. In off duty times I had hitched a ride into Skegness from the camp and visited my boarded horse for a ride. He and I had galloped many times along the shoreline, sometimes even finding washed up mines, which we were able to report and watched being detonated. After arriving hone I was sent to bed, a doctor was summoned from Harley Street in London, who gave instructions I was not to go downstairs for at least six months, to remain in bed. So, I was discharged from the navy under medical conditions.

After a while I received three medals. One for joining the service to fight the war, one for being still in the service at war's end and one for serving in the London Blitz.

Never forget the bravery of the people living in England. In actual fact if the war had continued for another week there would have been drastic food problems. We had lost many ships due to German submarine torpedoes, which had lost tremendous amount of food coming to our big population from Canada and the U.S. Somehow we never even considered we would lose the war. It was just a question of 'how many more years?' We had no thoughts we could lose, just that we would have to tighten our belts. I remember when I served in the Home Guard, prior to joining the Wrens, one of my nightly duties for about four months was to climb on my bicycle and go around the lanes and roadways four or five miles, pulling the sign posts around, to point in opposite directions. This was in case of German invasion or when planes were shot down to confuse the enemy. In those days there were no weapons for the Home Guard, made up of older men, or young ones coming up. We used to carry spades, long handled forks as our possible defenses to fight any enemy.

My mother was the Centre Organizer for the Women's Voluntary Services looking after the town of Bourne and 28 villages in our part of Lincolnshire. She organized homes for 900 evacuees sent down from Hull. Within 24 hours, all her women, about 200 volunteers, helped others with problems, disabilities, sickness, loss of loved ones, knitting for people, etc. She met Winston Churchill numerous times and became president of East England Conservative Party raising big sums of money for the Party.

My father was one of the leading

in England. He was Chairman of the Farmers Union Board where one of the responsibilities was to ensure every piece of land produced food. Even the sides of the roads were tended and grew potatoes, cabbages, etc. If some of the farmers did not have the right equipment they arranged for someone to loan or help them out. If some of the farmers did not pull their weight, the board was empowered to go in and ensure the land was productive and then charge the farmer, if necessary. That happened very seldom; everyone knew how important food production was.

In both 1938 and 1939 my father represented England on visits to Germany from the National Farmers Board of the UK. Twelve leading farmers were hosted by the Germans. They had about a week there and were shown very high level farming production ideas, taken out to dinners, shown far advanced equipment not available in the UK, etc. However, there were many areas in which they were driven around which were "off-limits," obviously, where the military was.

One night, three of the men were entertained to dinner by Goebbels, Ribbontroph and Goering. Hitler came in to meet the farmers and invited Daddy to spend the rest of the evening alone with him, including an interpreter. During this evening, Hitler appeared very controlled and kind. He introduced his favourite red sparkling burgundy to Daddie. In fact, he sent him a large casket of it over in 1939 which lay somewhere en route throughout the war years, but eventually found us. It was marvelous and became our piece de resistance for major family affairs for years.

During this evening Hitler instructed Daddie to go back to England and tell Sir Neville Chamberlain, then Prime Minister, that England should go in with Germany immediately to take on the Russians which Hitler planned to do. Hitler stated that if England did not go in with him, they would take us over. Daddie told him we had a very strong reserve army who would fight him, but he agreed to talk with Neville Chamberlain the following day after returning to England. It was all very casual, but important. As many of you will know, Sir Neville told the Hitler government, "There would be Peace in our Time. England would not battle with Germany." Less than two months later on September 3rd, 1939, war was declared between England and Germany.

Everyone in England buckled down to the seriousness of the war. We were afraid of bombing to take place immediately and some did. We buckled our belts, tightened our thoughts, and vowed they would never get us down. I was at boarding school in Malvern, Worcestershire. The Admiralty realizing the seriousness of being in London commandeered the school, eventually putting in 800 telephones, but never moving in, but was held in abeyance for over twelve months. In the meantime our school was evacuated down to the south in Somerset. It was a long way from those of us living in the North or East of England, so most of us left our beloved school. Our parents rightly felt if there was the German invasion we would quickly be cut off and most likely killed or never seen again. So, I enrolled at a high school in Stamford, ten miles away on which I traveled by bus every morning, leaving home before 7:00, going seven miles to Market Deeping, then waiting nearly an hour for another bus to transport us the final seven miles to get to Stamford by 8:30 with a mile walk up hill to the school.

What did I do for fun, you may ask? We all thought about what we could do for the war effort every day. It could have been our last. Many of our friends and relatives joined the services, no one stayed away. It was a duty and privilege to join up. Those involved with farming were allowed to miss conscription and call ups, but many would not let that happen. We all wanted to do all we could for the war effort, our country and our way of life.

My life had always been deeply involved with ponies, horses, riding and loving them. I think I would always have been dedicated, but certainly the war, our dependence on one another and in my case, care of my animals, was first in our lives. I played with them, groomed them, loved them every day. They became my salvation. I knew if I looked after them, life would work out all right and it has. In our hearts, we knew we would win the war. We constantly heard terrible stories. Our friends were killed or taken prisoner. I wrote to everyone of my friends weekly who were in the services. Some of the letter would get through, perhaps. They were giving their lives for the rest of us; it was the least I could do personally, by encouragement. Actually, it became a problem because all seven men became dependent on my letters over the four or five years before we saw them again and wanted to marry me on their return.

The important thing was to keep up our dreams, hopes and courage to win the war, which we did. But, it was certainly very squeaky at the beginning. The bravery of our young people was magnificent. The middle aged and older people rushed into developing munitions, growing food, rolling thousands of bandages needed for our troops in battle, knitting warm scarves and gloves. We were always involved. Television was not available. Telephones were our only contact and they were very expensive. Support from everyone you knew and did not was the backbone of the English man, woman and child.