No 1 Shadow Factory -Acocks Green

 Not a word was said about the new job from the July I was offered it until one Friday morning in early October 1942 when Joe said to me "On Monday morning at 8am a coach will leave from here for Drakelow, taking the foreman, chargehands and a few machinists." Just like that. Here today - gone tomorrow. I had no fears about the work, worry or responsibility. I knew it was the right job for me. Now that it was time for me to go - I couldn't help feeling a little sad.

 I had got to know, like and respect hundreds of chaps. Different shifts meant you didn't meet some of them one week in six. It took all of my near three years at No. 1. to get to know all the Polishers, Night shift was the best time, a more friendly atmosphere, less supervision, one could move about more easily. Maybe even the Air-raids brought us closer together. Dicky Derrington was an unforgettable character. On night shift he would start singing 'Little Sir Echo' a popular song of the day, in a voice that although not particularly powerful, carried all round the shop, a big one about 5Oyds x 4Oyds. When he got to the 'Hello' bit all the blokes would echo 'Hello' , and it would get louder and louder with all the shift joining in until Dicky would stop and shout "Shurrup, you bastards" . We could get away with the racket at night, but on days, although we tried hard to egg him on to sing, he was too canny. He played up to us. He would shout "Shall I?" and we would all answer "Yes". But he never did.

 That terrible morning about 10am when Jack Farrell, next lathe to mine, was told his parents and many others of the family had died in a raid on Birmingham that night. What can one say at a time like that. He carried on at work. The War took precedence over everything.

 Maurice Medley and Tommy Mulholland, Polishing Shop Morris flex operators who were in the Rover St.John Ambulance Brigade and works First Aid Unit. Who knows when we would meet again. As the war went on, age reservations were increased, Younger men went into the forces. I met some later, but most I never saw again. Comrades on those grim but sometimes exciting nights. Mr. Watkins , Frank Tiddley, Sid Morris, Jock, Fred Davis , George Lloyd and a host of others. I hope they remember me, One chap I worked next to , he had already been bombed out of the London Arsenal and transferred to Birmingham, lost a foot in North Africa through a land mine. A great lot of chaps. I felt sad at leaving. Working at No1. had been an experience that I'm sure was of great value in my new job. I owe them a lot. I trust I gave something in return.

 Even after a lapse of 35 years I am still puzzled as to how I came to be in charge of one of Rover's Polishing Depts. Never one of a clique, strictly T.T. and so not a member of a 'boozing party'. I have heard it said more than once, that was the way to get on. A Tradesman certainly, although looking at some of the Charge-hands and Foremen that didn't seem important. Usually the Senior Foreman makes a recommendation, but Joe' s "Your name was put forward, I can't say by who" rules him out. What did happen? Could it be - In the winter of 1941-2 the First Aiders on nights got permission from Works Control to practice in the Conference room, a Holy of Holies in the daytime, taboo to anyone. During the night dinner break about eight of us would, in nice clean and quiet surroundings do a bit of practical bandaging. Nobody bothered us, not even the works patrolmen looked in. Until one night as I was giving a lecture-demonstration, The door opened and two men came in, " Carry on" said one, which we did, They stood and watched for about five minutes, then left without saying a word, One re-entered, he came to me saying "What's your name and check number?" - " Why, what's the matter" I asked. "Nothing" he said. I gave the details and he left, "Now were in trouble" says I to Tommy Mulholland, "Who were they?" " Don't you know? One of thems "Bloody Dymond" He was the Production Chief, We were worried about the incident, but carried on and on following nights, expecting at any moment to hear something to our disadvantage, but no- and to our astonishment and without any preliminary notice the following Monday night in walked the Night Superintendent to join the class. On reflection I can only think he was sent by superiors. Joe Ridleys "There'll only be a few skilled men, you'll have to arrange a teaching programme for a labour force of unskilled men and women, plus men awaiting call-up within six months, You may only get three months work from them, but that's what you've got to do - to teach, train and organise. Works First-aid wise, that was my role. Was that how my name came to notice? A lucky break? Was the Night Shift super really interested in First-aid? Who knows.

No 1D Shadow Factory -Drakelow

 There were about twenty of us in the first batch to go to Drakelow some from Solihull No, 2 and others from No. 1. We were all agog. Where were we going? What will it be like? That day was exciting and unforgettable. I wouldn't have believed such a place existed. But it did. I saw it and I worked there three years. The experience of a lifetime. There was Stan Mullard who I met for the first time, Jack Williams, Ben Mole and No. l's Chief Personnel Officer to see us safely signed in to our new job's. It took quiet a while, he said to me " You're the first, after the next 2,000 they'll be quicker."

 The Hostels were not ready for us so the arrangements were that we should pick up the coach starting at 8am from No.1 every morning. My nearest point was Moseley village about 8.lOam. The first week we started back in time to arrive at No.1 about 6pm. Both journeys in works time. After the first week the return journey was in our time. Later, both journeys were in out of works hours.

 "Keep together gentlemen please" The voice, Irish beyond all doubt, came from a tall, smartly uniformed Works Policeman into whose charge we had been placed. At last we had got to the new factory, although there wasn't much evidence of it to be seen. Our bus, after losing itself and travelling what seemed miles along narrow country lanes, which had been made one-way to take the large heavy motor traffic that would be using them in ever increasing numbers, finally came to a stop in what looked like a wilderness. A barren bumpy area that eventually became a works car park.

 Our coach was expected and we were ushered past an old cottage through a typical works factory gate set, I noted , into a high heavily barbed wired fence that disappeared into the distance, to a gate house where our Irish ex-Royal Ulster Constable called the roll. He wasn't going to let anyone go missing. On then to the Personnel Department to be officially enrolled on the strength, the first of many.

 Groups of four or five were then, under escort, taken on a tour with emphasis on those parts of the factory with which we would be concerned. My group was led by a Mr.Jones, the Chief Personnel Officer. A tall man with a slow long striding, seemingly arrogant looking walk, which I learned later was deliberate to hide an injury that had left him with a stiff ankle joint. Time about 11am, we were all to meet up again for dinner at 1pm all specially laid on for us in a Contractors Canteen Hut somewhere outside the Tunnel 4 entrance, wherever that was. Believe me we needed a guide. Off we went walking straight towards what looked like a small mountain fifty yards on along a concrete roadway that branched into three. Tunnels 1, 2 and 3 we discovered as we got in time to know the geography of the place. We took the one on the right - No. 1.

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