As I have been making my way through the old family photos albums, I was very excited to come across this photograph.
This is my Mom, Joyce Florence Wordsworth, during World War II. It actually would have been Joyce Healy at this point because she had yet to meet my Dad who was also fighting in the war effort. This shows mom (third from the left) with 3 of her fellow firefighters.
Once again I was reminded of the exceptional life of peace and opportunity that I was born into. I have lived through no major military disruption in my life and in fact have lived in a country for most of my life that prides itself on using the Canadian military for peace keeping missions.
Mom, on the other hand, lived through World War II, and in particular, the Battle of Britain.
Once Hitler had taken much of Europe with his ‘blitzkrieg’, all that stood between him and controlling all of Europe, was the island nation of England.
He began using his air force the Luftwaffe to bomb England prior to a cross-channel infantry landing. He began by bombing British air fields, and even though the Royal Air Force was greatly outnumbered, it proved to have superior technology in its Hurricane fighters, and in particular, the Spitfire. England also possessed an early version of radar, which gave the RAF the tactical advantage of early warning as German bombers approached.
When this strategy proved unsuccessful, Hitler turned his sites on cities, hoping to break the British morale. What began was a vicious series of raids on London, becoming known as “The Blitz”. Hitler’s strategy proved unsuccessful as the ‘stiff upper lip’ Londoners took to the underground subway to weather the constant bombing raids.
With housing materials of the day, fires were a huge consequence of the bombing, and with many young men involved with the war effort in many services, England established the “Auxiliary Fire Service (AFS) in 1938.
Most of the firefighters were unpaid volunteers, which just speaks to the dedication of a population when it’s under such a threat.
Mom did not speak about her experience much, but I was aware of her work in the AFS. She drove a fire truck. While all I have is the one photo of mom in uniform I was able to find this image of a firetruck from the time on Wikipedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Goddess#/media/File:Green_Goddess_1.jpg
This is a slightly later version of the vehicle, but gives you an idea of the changes fire fighting vehicles have gone through over time. It would appear that some of the trucks had a 400-gallon water tank onboard so the crew could immediately begin fighting the fire while the main pumps and hoses were hooked up to hydrants.
In those days everything was heavier, so along with water this truck would have been a huge challenge to drive. And in 1940, it would have had a manual transmission, with my mom having to use a clutch and gear shift to change gears as she manoeuvred this behemoth through narrow London streets, which may have been littered with debris from the bombing raid.
Thinking of my mom driving one of these vehicles just fills me with awe and wonder at her abilities. Most of my growing up she was just the person who made me meals, bought me clothes and made me my Halloween costume. And yet she had had such an exciting and challenging youth, and had lived through an incredibly dangerous time.
Wikipedia also has a section on the Monument to the Women of War II, which was dedicated by Queen Elizabeth in 2005.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monument_to_the_Women_of_World_War_II
It’s surprising it took Britain so long to recognize the contribution of women to its success in World War II.
When I look at that image of my mother with her fellow fire crew members I wonder what they were thinking about. Was it the extreme danger they faced daily during the bombing, or was it about the 4 of them heading to a dance hall on Saturday night to let loose and escape thinking about reality for a while?
I am very proud of my mother’s contribution to the war effort. I wish I had a better appreciation of my mom’s courage and skill while she was still alive. It’s funny how going through old photo albums can make you wish you still had family members around… to ask them questions, to tell them how much you love them, to tell them how proud you are of them.
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