Memories of a Bevin Boy, Dick Carrrington
In December 1943 Ernie Bevin, Minister of Labour in Churchill's coalition government, (and later a key member of Attlee's post war Labour government) decided that the nation would be better served if 10% of all conscripts were sent into coalmining instead of the Armed Services
The method of selection was to have a weekly draw from a hat containing the ten digits from 0 to 9, and if that digit was the last number on a man's enlistment form then he was to be a miner.
On entering the Labour Exchange to sign up, I stopped to tie up a loose shoelace letting another man go before me. That resulted in me getting the dreaded digit. Fascinating to think that so many aspects of my life were affected by that shoelace. I had wanted to join the Fleet Air Arm and had I done so, there is a fair chance that I would not have survived the war, almost certainly not have married the woman who has so far given me 62 lovely years of married life, and my three children, eight grandchildren and five great grandchildren would not have been born.
Anyway, I was now a coalminer together with 45,000 other lads, including Jimmy Saville, Eric Morecambe and Lofthouse the footballer, all of them born in 1926, my year of birth. There was no appeal against this unless supported by two doctors.
So I found myself issued with a helmet (which I still have) and some steel tipped boots, and sent to Askhern pit in Yorkshire for six weeks training before being assigned to Hickleton Main Colliery in Thurnscoe, near Doncaster.
There I made brief acquaintance with the local hero, a promising boxer, Billy Thomson who from 1947 to 1950 was British lightweight champion
Shifts worked were "days" 6.0 am to 2.0p.m and alternate weeks "afters" 2.0p.m to 10 p.m. The night shift was reserved for "ripping" (repairs). I always thought it quite a beautiful sight to see the night shift coming off work while it was still quite dark, with their lamps all bobbing like hundreds of fairy lights.
The first two weeks were spent above ground on the screens. Tubs of coal were tipped over onto a metal conveyor belt which carried it 80 yards to railway trucks. The job was to pull off anything that was not coal. The noise was so intense that conversation was impossible and the dust was so thick that breathing was uncomfortable. All much worse than anything I later experienced underground
Then down in the "cage" dropping like a stone to the pit bottom, with my ears popping like mad. Bevin boys worked mostly on haulage but I did do a couple of jobs on the coalface. One was drilling holes for the shotfirer to place his explosives. The other was "on the plough" which meant shovelling back all the coal which had spilled off the belt which carried coal from the face to the loader.
I was a keen member of the Hickleton St.John team and we competed against teams from other collieries and the police force and fire brigade. There were no fatal accidents at Hickleton while I was there. But one chap died of natural causes (I think it was a heart attack) and I had to give him artificial respiration for some time. I afterwards asked the rescue man in charge why did I do this to a man obviously dead. He explained that a while back when taking a corpse to the pit top the change in pressure caused a sort of sigh or groan. Rumours then went around that he had been alive and we had done nothing for him. Since then he said everyone has artificial respiration.
I met a lot of interesting characters. One was a man who drew pictures and cartoons in chalk on the sides of the tubs. He was brilliant. Another was a man whio invited you to give him the names of any twenty numbered items and then whatever number you gave he knew what it was. And this he could still do a week later if asked again. I was told that the trick was to make the items in the right sequence into a story but I still thought it quite impressive. One other character was my pony "Nobby" who was one of the last ones to be used in coal mines. He would willingly pull two loaded tubs but if he heard a third one being connected he wouldn't budge.
I had two quite dramatic incidents. One was when my job was to be on my own, a hundred yards from the loader and give them warning that empty tubs would soon be with them. My light went out (a most unheard of thing) and I was left in such blackness that I could not see my finger in front of my eyes. I decided that I must face the oncoming tubs with my arm outstretched to meet them and as soon as I felt contact I must jump on the front clamp and ride down to the loader. The plan worked until I received a terrific blow in the face which I think must have been from a join in the pipe carrying compressed air. I could feel liquid streaming down my cheeks which I thought must be blood but when I at last reached lights I was relieved to find was only tears.
The second incident was when my job was to uncouple the empty tubs as they came down a slope to the loader where two others had to wrestle them one by one on big metal plates (sheets) to get them under the loader. I jumped on the track ready to deal with the empties approaching me at about four miles an hour when the metal cap on my boot became very firmly trapped by some part of the track. I had no time to get my foot out of the boot but I still thought I would be O,K, if I could release the clamp and free the tubs from the metal rope which was moving them. The clamp stuck I was about to go under when my last desperate heave worked. I was dragged out and the gaffer (foreman) asked if I was O.K. I assured him that I was, but suddenly ten minutes later was having a shivering fit and my legs had turned to jelly. No lasting damage though I still have marks on my knees to remind me.
When the war ended the scheme more or less collapsed and the government didn't know what action to take. Should they prosecute absentee Bevin Boys or let them legally take other employment? They ended up by calling us all up but taking into account our time in the mines. So I had two very happy years in a peacetime army, ending with a commission, but that's another story!
As a postscript. In 2007 Tony Blair said that the Bevin Boys contribution to the war effort should be recognised and we all received a veterans badge, and were allowed to contribute a contingent to the Remembrance Day procession. Sixty five years to receive recognition, though I don't think anyone was much bothered.
I am now aged 91
