Fred Collins (1914-1959)

My father, Fred Collins was born on 29th April 1914, the fifth of six children born to Robert Maurice (Bob) and Ada Collins (nee Froggatt) between 1906 and 1917. His parents had been married for nearly 13 years when he was born and he was their second son. They lived at 8 Clifford Street, West Gorton, Manchester - a street of tightly packed Victorian terraced houses that were typical of any northern city of the period. He was only ten years old when his father died on the 19th September 1924. Bob was teaching Fred to play the violin at the time, and that was the end of his musical education.

Fred had no idea his origins lay in the countryside of East Yorkshire. Neither did he know his forebears were wealthy yeoman farmers, who employed labourers to work their own land. As far as he was concerned, his family were working class people from Manchester. That was his world and he never questioned it.

Fred was an industrious lad and did several jobs whilst at school. His mother, a widow by this time, had little to spare for him so, if he wanted money, he had to earn it himself. He worked as a paperboy from about the time his father died, and kept this up until he left school to start work proper when he was 14 in 1928. He was amongst the first generation of children to finish their education at this age, previously it had been 12 years old.

In those days, both the morning and evening newspapers were delivered, and he was up early in the morning for his first round before school, and back home late after his evening round. He was always on the lookout for better paid jobs and, whilst still at school, stopped delivering the evening papers to work in a tripe factory. It was legal for schoolchildren to have a part-time job, though he would have been paid the junior rate. The job was probably at Pendlebury’s tripe factory in Butterworth Street near Grey Mare Lane, which was close to his home. It paid better than his paper round and he liked eating tripe, which was part of the family’s normal diet, so it seemed a good idea.

Unfortunately, he had no understanding of the job, nor of the conditions in the factory, and could not stand the dreadful smell of handling the innards of animals. So it didn’t last long and he was soon back on his evening paper round. Later, he worked on a milk round in the morning before school, whilst still delivering newspapers in the evening.

Fred had the same basic education as every other working class lad and left school in April 1928, at about the time of his fourteenth birthday. He had to show his birth certificate to prove his age before he could start work at the “Work Shop”, which was referred to on the back of a copy of his certificate. This was probably in one of the many local factories. Like many school-leavers of his generation, he initially worked as a labourer.

He didn’t stay in the factory long and soon found himself a job as a labourer on a building site with a friend of his friend Harry Wilkinson, who later married his sister Alice. But Fred was not content to be just a labourer like many of his contemporaries. He moved on again and found an opportunity as an apprentice plumber, so he could have a secure trade. Unfortunately, we have no information on this, but it is probable that it was on a building site.

Outside work, Fred was an active, athletic person who enjoyed cycling and playing football. He was also a good boxer but never took it up properly. This is probably where he met Harry Wilkinson, his future brother-in law, who became a professional boxer and fought under the name Archie Wilkie. Fred was a strong lad who had been raised on the streets of West Gorton, which was a tough area, and he was able to look after himself. He had a quick temper and was often involved in the rough and tumble of a fight, but this was common in his environment. From his school days, his nickname was “Coll”.

Fred was ambitious and, after he finished his apprenticeship, he became a self-employed plumber. It was about the early-1930s and he was in his late teens. He had no intention of working for somebody else, and was his own boss for the rest of his life. He enjoyed being a plumber, especially the intricacies of the pipe work and fitting systems together, and he prided himself on a job done well. He probably also installed gas pipes to power the latest style cookers now being introduced into modern kitchens. However, he did not enjoy working on blocked drains or anything that was smelly. Perhaps the shock of working in the tripe works still hung over him, and this could be the reason why he spent most of his time working on new housing developments, rather than maintenance or refurbishment work.

There was always plenty of work available and, if it ran out, he could easily and quickly find other jobs. Fortunately, most plumbing work is indoors, so he kept earning even in bad weather when other building workers were laid off. So he had a constant income from the age of fourteen and, as a single, self-employed tradesman, was relatively well-off. As was the tradition, all young men and women at work expected to pay their parents for their food and keep, and this continued until he married in 1936.

Fred was a handsome man, about five feet eight inches (1.72 metres) tall, with almost black hair and dark brown eyes. He weighed about nine and a half stone (61 kilo), had a fine physique and was strong for his size. This might appear to be small to us today, but would have been about average for a man raised in a polluted city at that time. He had a pleasant disposition, with a positive and gregarious personality, was comfortable with people and made friends easily. These characteristics were common amongst people from large families who learned to share with their brothers and sisters from the day they were born.

Fred took pride in his appearance and liked to get out of his work clothes. He preferred to be clean and smartly dressed. His black hair parted naturally in the middle and, fortunately for him, this was a fashionable look in the 1930s. Though, he kept his centre parting throughout his life, long after it had gone out of fashion. The style was for men to wear oily hair cream and, with a dollop of Brylcreme or Sylvakrin, his sleek hair glistened jet-black.

Fred also enjoyed a drink of mild beer, which is no longer available in pubs. It was a darker, thicker and sweeter brew than the bitter beer available today, and not always totally clear. It was also a few pennies cheaper, though Fred bought it for its taste and not its cost. Most evenings, he went to the pub and at lunchtime on Sunday, but he was never a heavy drinker. Alcohol soon went to his head and made him feel sick. A couple of half pints, or gills as he called them, were more his measure.

Despite being a regular in the local pub, Fred was firmly set against playing card games of any sort. His view throughout his life was: “no good will ever come of playing cards”. He must have had a bad experience playing cards at some time, and it cost him a lot of money. He was a thrifty man and careful how he spent his money. We will never know what happened in that fateful card game, but the experience left a big impression on him and he never played cards again. Also, many of his working class friends were prolific gamblers, but not Fred. Though he enjoyed watching sport, he was never interested in horse racing, or anything similar that attracted gambling. He wanted to keep his own hard-earned money in his pocket, and not give it to the bookmakers. The closest Fred got to betting was doing the football pools on Saturday.

Apart from enjoying a drink, Fred was a good darts player and this was one of his main motivations for going to the pub in the evenings. He was a regular member of his local pub team almost until the day he died, and was good enough to win the occasional tournament prize. When I was a boy in the mid-1950s, I remember him winning a full tea service of crockery, a substantial prize at the time.

There was a boom in house building in the Manchester area between 1920 and 1940. The more prosperous people were moving out of the central city area into newly built, modern accommodation in the outer suburbs, and Manchester Corporation were building “council houses” to rehouse people away from the slum areas. Fred mainly did larger jobs on these new building sites. Each day he set off to work with his tool bag slung over the handlebars of his bike. His work took him to the outer reaches of Manchester, to places as far away as Wilmslow in Cheshire, a newly developing, affluent area. He was also always on the lookout for ways of earning extra money in his spare time and at the weekends, and found time for small local domestic jobs.

Plumbing was a highly skilled and heavy job in those days, as most of the materials were made of heavy ceramics, iron or lead. Fred was strong and healthy, though, so this was not a problem for him. He had learnt how to look after himself on the tough streets of West Gorton, and this was valuable experience to help him survive in the rough world of a building site in a large industrial city in the 1930’s.

Fred was an excellent dancer and a high proportion of his social life revolved around the many dance halls in the district. A typical evening would be to meet up with his friends in the pub, have a couple of gills, and then go to a dance hall, none of which sold alcoholic drinks as the licensing laws were much more restrictive then. This is where he found his girl friends and, eventually, the girl who was to become his wife, though he first met her whilst on a camping holiday with friends at Hayfield in the Derbyshire Peak District, in about 1931.

In summary, Fred Collins was a typical, outgoing and fun-loving young man of his time. He worked hard, was ambitious, had his standards, and was not prepared to follow the accepted working class traditions of his contemporaries. He seems to have inherited some of the positive characteristics of his ancestors in this personality, and perhaps they were in his Collins genes. He was destined to meet and marry Ruby Dillon, a local girl from a similar background, who also shared his aspirations for the future. Their endeavours, with a bit of luck and help, put the fortunes of the Collins family back on the road to recovery and re-established it once again in the middle class of society.

Ruby Dillon was petite and pretty, 5 feet 2 inches tall, and weighed just over six stone (40 kilos), with dark brown hair and brown eyes. She did not smoke or drink, but didn’t object to it in a man. Their backgrounds were similar, both of them came from large working class families that had to strive to succeed. They both had gregarious personalities, got on well with other people and had plenty of friends, but did not go out of their way to cultivate them. Their large families were probably enough to cope with. Ruby was more self-contained than Fred. As with many people of their generation, most of their life revolved around their work and their families.

Ruby and Fred started courting seriously in about 1933, when they were about 19 years old. About 3 months later, they were at a dance together, and some uninvited intruders were making trouble. Fred got up, beckoned to about three of his mates and they went over to sort it out. Within no time they had tackled the intruders and thrown them out bodily. It was all over in a few minutes. It didn’t bother Fred, but Ruby didn’t like it. It was not what she was used to and she did not speak to him for about a week after the incident. She made it clear that, if they were to continue to see each other, there was to be no more fighting. This event also seems to be the key point where Ruby and Fred realised that they were really serious about each other, and their relationship was cemented. He soon settled down and channelled his energies into his job and ambitions. They knew the future lay ahead for them together, and they both looked forward to it with optimism and enthusiasm.

Fred and Ruby both loved to dance and were very accomplished, as both of them were very light on their feet. The tango was their favourite dance, and they made a good dancing team. They often entered local competitions, and won many of them. But they were also cute: they knew stood a better chance in dance halls where they were known, so that is where they competed the most. Otherwise, they just danced for their own enjoyment. They also enjoyed evenings out at the cinema and the Saturday wrestling in the King’s Hall at Belle Vue. They slowly left their friends behind as they only wanted each other’s company.

Ruby and Fred Collins were engaged for about two years before they got married in 1936. Each of their respective families accepted the other wholeheartedly and considered the pair of them to be an excellent match. Fred's mother, Ada Collins, told Ruby that Fred was a nice, considerate boy, who was clean and careful about his appearance and his money. She told her that "if he had a shilling he would save sixpence". Ada also asked Ruby if she could darn socks. She could, of course, as could all young girls at the time, but did not understand the relevance of the question until after they were married.

Fred bought Ruby an engagement ring that had two diamonds of about a quarter carat each, which were set together at an angle to the band. This must have been an expensive purchase for a working class man and reflects the success he was having as a self-employed person. She treasured this ring throughout her life and continued to wear it even after she remarried. Unfortunately, she mislaid it when she was about 83 years old, when her faculties were starting to fail her, and was very upset about losing it. It probably ended its life in her vacuum cleaner.

Shortly before they were married, Fred and Ruby found a house at 11, Ralph Street, just inside the Clayton boundary. Ruby's mother, Elizabeth Dillon, owned a greengrocers shop a few hundred yards away in Droylsden. Her elder sister, Lily, also ran a greengrocery business around the corner on Ashton New Road. So the house was close to her family and this suited Ruby. She liked to be able to “pop in” for a cup of tea and a chat, not that she wanted to see them all of the time, but liked to think they were available if needed.

Fred set about modernising the house before they moved in. By the time he had finished, he had completely redecorated every room, installed electricity, a modern bath in the back bedroom, a new fireplace in the front room, and new doors throughout. All that effort and expense, and it was only a rented property. They talked to the rent man to see if they could get any compensation for all their work. He gave them a week’s back rent and another week rent free, worth 22 shillings (£1.10). Fred was planning to install a new inside toilet in the back bedroom and replace the old cast iron range in the kitchen, but they moved before he started the job.

They rented the house in Ralph Street for eleven shillings (55p) a week. At that time, Ruby's brother Teddy was working as a representative for a furniture company. He was involved in an exhibition at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester during the autumn of 1936. It was a great opportunity and they bought two three-piece suites for £5 each in brown mock leather, a light oak dining room suite for £2.50 and a mahogany bedroom suite for £2.50, together with all their carpets. With the rest of the furniture that they bought elsewhere, the whole house was refurbished and furnished new for less than £100. Until they got the house organised, everything was stored in Ruby's sister Lily's back bedroom, at her shop on Ashton New Road.

The wedding had to take place on Boxing Day because it was the only day of the year that the Dillon family greengrocery businesses were closed and when a wedding was allowed to take place in church. Ruby's mother would not have considered closing the shop as this would amount to losing business. This was a trait that ran through the whole family as earning money was very important to all of them.

The wedding reception was held at The New Inn at Fiveways, which was at the top of Manor Road in Droylsden. It was a do-it yourself event. Ruby's mother had arranged for two of her friends to prepare the food, but they were late. So Ruby and her new sister-in-law Hilda Diggett went to the hotel to start making the sandwiches. It was a very cold winter’s day, which meant that the butter was solid and it would not spread on the bread. They had to think quickly because time was passing, so they decided to sit on the butter to warm it up. This did the trick and they could soon get on with the job. Eventually, her mother's friends arrived to finish off whilst Ruby and Hilda went to get ready for the wedding.

In common with many men of his generation, Fred had traditional values and did not want his wife to work after they married. It was still normal at that time for a man to support his wife, whilst she ran the household and raised the family, even before they had any children. After all, he was doing well and could easily support both of them. Unlike countless generations of their family before them, they agreed that they were not going to have a large family. They both wanted more from their life than the drudgery of raising a lot of children, like their mothers.

Fred and Ruby were happy living together in Ralph Street. She ran the house and he continued to work as a plumber. Ruby’s mother and her sister Lily were both greengrocers. Lily looked at a shop on the Clayton estate, and asked Ruby to go with her. It was one of a small number in the middle of a large housing estate. Lily decided not to pursue it because her husband, Harry, did not want to move. But it was a good opportunity because there was no immediate competition, and the shop served a large population at a time when people bought most of their food from local shops.

Every Friday night after tea, Fred and Ruby went to her mother, Elizabeth Dillon’s, shop at 246 Manor Road in Droylsden at about 8.00 pm to buy their greengrocery for the week. The shop closed at 9.00 pm, and then they stayed for a cup of tea and a chat. Ruby’s mother suggested they should take over the shop in Clayton. But Fred and Ruby could not afford it. The price of the stock, fixtures and fittings, and goodwill was about £100 and they did not have that much money saved. Also, the rent was £3.00 a week, much higher than on their house, but it did include living accommodation. Ruby was enthusiastic, as she did not want to be a housewife forever. Fred was less concerned as he was very successful as a plumber and never short of work.

Both Lizzie and Lily offered to lend them money to get started. Lizzie offered them £60.00 and Lily £10.00, and they had £20.00 of their own savings. This was still not quite enough though, as they also had to find £6.00 to pay for the removal. Fred was at work during the week and it was the next Saturday before he and Ruby could have another look at the business. The shop was busy when they got there and this made their mind up for them. It was clearly a good prospect and they made an offer, which was everything they could raise. The offer was accepted and they moved a month later, in about November 1937.

It was a very busy and profitable business as there was no similar shop in the vicinity, and people shopped almost daily before everybody owned a refrigerator to keep perishable food fresh. Ruby ran the shop during the week whilst Fred carried on plumbing. He filled up the heavy goods, such as potatoes, in the evenings and helped out on Saturdays.

Fred's earnings were ploughed into the business, keeping about 10 shillings (50p) for his cigarettes, drinks and other expenses. At the end of their first week, they were already able to repay the £10.00 back to Lily. They opened an account at the Post Office and, every Monday, deposited some money to build up a fund to repay her mother. Elizabeth didn’t really want the money back, but they insisted as they did not want to be beholden to her, and did not want the rest of the family to think that they had received preferential treatment. Within a year they had paid back the £60 they owed her.

It was soon December and they got the full benefit of the Christmas trade. A local tradition amongst the greengrocer’s shops was to open on Christmas Day morning and give each of the local children a free orange. Understandably, it was very popular and queues soon formed outside. They couldn’t really afford to do it in their first year, but it built up goodwill with the customers and made sure they continued to shop with them over the next year. Children came from far and wide, and large families were known to go round to all the local shops and stock up. This tradition died out when the Second World War started in 1939.

Life was good for Ruby and Fred. They were only in their early twenties, had already established two successful businesses, enjoyed a good joint income, and everything was set fine for the future. The takings were about £40 a week, which gave them about £10 profit. This was more than Fred earned, but neither of them considered he should give up his job as a plumber. They wanted it all, couldn’t believe their luck, and wanted to save some money in case it didn’t last. The only thing that seemed to elude them was that Ruby did not get pregnant, but it was early days in their marriage and they were not too worried.

They were lucky as there was no close competition and they were in the middle of a large housing estate. They continued a popular special offer from the previous owner: half a rabbit, five pounds of potatoes, a pound of carrots and a pound of onions, all for one shilling (5p). Though this was only one family meal, this gives a clear indication of the price of goods in 1938.

About this time Fred first had problems with his chest and went to see the family doctor, Dr Taylor. Dr Taylor’s practice was at the end of North Road, close to where it joined Ashton New Road. There is still a medical practice in about the same place. Fred was a heavy smoker of Woodbine cigarettes, not unusual for a working man. Dr Taylor diagnosed bronchitis and told him to stop smoking. He stopped for a while and his health recovered, but started smoking again, though not as heavily, keeping to about ten cigarettes a day.

Britain declared war on Germany on 3rd September 1939. Everybody was anxious because their memories of the Great War were still vivid, and this war was expected to be worse. Nothing much happened during the period called the “phoney war” by the press. Everything changed in May 1940 when the Germans attacked in Belgium and France, culminating in the evacuation of the British from Dunkirk on 4^th June. The Battle of Britain was raging in the skies over southern England by the late summer and Fred came home from work one day to say that all his mates were joining up in the forces. He asked Ruby if she would mind if he volunteered too. Anyway, he argued, he would probably be conscripted soon and would have to go. Ruby didn’t want him to go, but agreed with him that he should.

On 30th September 1940, Fred went with several of his friends to the recruiting office in the centre of Manchester and enlisted. He was 26 years old: young, fit and healthy. He really wanted to join the Royal Navy, but they had stopped recruiting as they had enough volunteers. They enlisted him into the Royal Artillery Embodied Territorial Army as: Gunner 1698737, Fred Collins, and was posted to the 437th Battery - part of the 62nd Searchlight Regiment.

Fred’s description on enlistment was: Height: 5 feet 7.5 inches (1.715 metres)

Weight: 134 pounds (9 stone 8 pounds) (61 kilos)

Chest measurement: 34 inches (87 cm)

Range of expansion: 2 inches (5 cm)

Eyes: Brown

Hair: Dark

Religion: Church of England

The 62nd (The Loyal) Searchlight Regiment was formed from the 4th (Territorial) Battalion of the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment in 1938, based at the Fulwood Barracks in Preston. It consisted of three batteries of the Royal Artillery, the 435th, 436th and 437th. Each battery was supposed to have about 450 men, deployed into 4 Companies of about 100 men, responsible for six searchlights and six Lewis guns as defence from low flying aircraft. At the outbreak of war, the regiment was undermanned with only enough equipment for one fully battery. A Searchlight Battery was spread across a very wide area and its members knew very little about their colleagues in other batteries.

Before Fred joined up, the regiment was in the Orkney Islands defending the Royal Navy fleet at Scapa Flow, and in action against German aircraft in March and April 1940. In August 1940, it was moved to help defend the industrial area of South Lancashire as part of the 53rd Anti-Aircraft Brigade, within the 4th Anti-Aircraft Division. Much of the activity in 1940 was in the south of England, and the regiment was inactive, but on constant watch. By the end of September, the Germans began the Blitz, bombing London at night. Starting with Coventry on 14th November, the Blitz extended to other cities. The centre of Manchester was bombed on 22nd December, but Fred was still in his training period and did not take any part in the anti-aircraft defence.

Searchlight Regiments needed intelligent people to man and service the technical equipment they used. They only enlisted skilled tradesmen used to solving technical problems. Otherwise, Fred might have been sent to join an infantry regiment. Unfortunately, hardly any of Fred’s army records have survived and it is not possible to check any of his details. They were sent to the Ministry of Pensions in 1942 and destroyed, rather than returning them to the Army Personnel Centre. Ruby knew very little about Fred’s time in the army, not even the unit he joined. He didn’t tell her much - perhaps he didn’t want her to worry. Consequently, the details of his army life are vague and have been pieced together from fragments of information.

Fred had to take a cut in pay to risk his life for his King and Country. He earned about £3-10 shillings (£3.50) a week as a plumber, his pay became £2-6 shillings (£2.30). From this, half was sent as “allotment money” to Ruby, paid directly into the Post Office. (This was to make sure that men continued to keep their families whilst they were away.) Ruby let this accumulate in the Post Office for the future. Both of them were now keen savers.

Fred probably did his basic training at Fulwood Barracks in Preston, the home of the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment. There, he would have learned how to be a soldier; how to load, fire and maintain his rifle; how to attach his bayonet and charge at the enemy; and a host of other vital skills to survive in the King’s Army. Everybody hated the austere and authoritarian regime of their basic training, so we can only assume that Fred was no exception.

In November 1940, Fred was sent to a camp in Belle Vue in Manchester, the zoological gardens and entertainment centre, which was less than a mile from where he had been born and bred in West Gorton. He must have felt his luck was in. He joined the 437th Battery there and spent three weeks receiving intensive technical training. Fred knew all the “back ways” into and out of Belle Vue and he slipped home to see Ruby at weekends while he was there. It was even closer to go and see his mother, which he did on free evenings. While Fred was at Belle Vue, he had some trouble again with his chest, but put it down to the rigours of army life and sleeping outdoors in a tent in the cold winter weather. He continued to smoke.

One of Fred’s last trips home to see Ruby before being posted was on the night of 22nd December 1940, and it was traumatic. He left to go back at about midnight, caught the trolley bus to Stevenson Square in Manchester and then had a short walk to Piccadilly to get a connection. As he reached Portland Street (adjacent to Piccadilly) a German raid opened up over the city and bombs started to explode around him. The cellars of the warehouses were open to be used as shelters in case of air-raids and Fred had to run in and out of them. It seemed that every time he reached another cellar a bomb dropped close to the one he had just left. He finally got away safely with Piccadilly burning brightly behind him, but had been lucky to escape alive.

Later in the war, Ruby had a similar experience. One evening, she and Gladys went dancing at Belle Vue. On their way home, an air raid started and the public transport stopped. They were frightened and almost ran all the way back to the shop in Ravensbury Street, Clayton. The air raid was still on and they arrived home hot and exhausted. They went to spend the night in the Anderson air raid shelter in Ruby’s garden, and immediately fell asleep on the wooden benches that lay on each side. It started to rain heavily. The “all clear” siren sounded in the morning and they decided to go indoors and to get into bed properly. They swung their legs over the side only to find they were knee deep in water. The shelter had been built partially underground for protection and had slowly filled up over night. Fortunately, they never needed to use it again.

In about January 1941, Fred was sent to Newcastle-on-Tyne, probably to complete his technical training. He was billeted with a widow in a terraced house with five other men in a run-down area of the city. The house was dirty and the woman gave them poor food. Ruby visited twice, so he must have been there for at least a month. She was not impressed, particularly with the rice pudding that was so solid you could eat it with a knife and fork! The woman kept several budgerigars and allowed them to fly free in the house. At first, this was quite entertaining as they would land on your shoulders, but it soon became tedious, as you never knew where one was coming from next. Fred’s chest was still giving him trouble and this time it was blamed on the budgerigars, which were known to produce asthma-like symptoms in some people.

Searchlight and Anti-Aircraft Batteries were usually sited close to each other, but not too near to make a single target. They were situated remotely from the urban centres they were defending and often on high ground. Consequently, it could be a trek to reach them and they were bleak places in the winter. They weren’t always popular with people who lived close to them, as they believed German bombers would be attracted to the lights and their homes would be hit.

Life was tough on a searchlight sight - usually in remote locations and on high ground to make it easier to observe the skies. This made them prone to the vagaries of bad weather. It was a lonely and monotonous life for the soldiers waiting for the next attack. Often they were so far out of towns, the men had nowhere to go for recreation on their days off. The open air life on a searchlight sight was hard and the men were kept active and fit with a lot of drill, physical training and route marches.

Each searchlight was manned by about 12 men and they were sited in groups of 3, often working in unison. The sites were self-contained with huts for the men to live in, their amenities and stores, and to house a generator to power the lights. The searchlights had a beam of 210 million candle power and projected light over 5 miles. They were about a metre in diameter and were moved manually as they tracked enemy aircraft across the night sky.

Each man had a specific task: spotters with binoculars were stationed about 75 yards from the searchlight on swivel chairs; the long arm operator manoeuvred the searchlight under instructions from the spotters or sound locator operators. There was also a generator operator, a radio operator, and a cook. The men became expert in their own position, but were also trained for another position. It is not known what position Fred had, although he certainly was not the cook.

The objective was to illuminate enemy aircraft so the anti-aircraft guns and aircraft could shoot them down; they also had to defend themselves. Observers and plotters mapped the approach of aircraft linked into the RAF and anti-aircraft operations. When the “Air Raid Warning: Red” message was received the men scrambled, the generator was run up to speed and the lights sprang to life. The intense beam of light was generated by an electric arc across two carbon electrodes, reflected from a mirror. The positive electrode burnt out after about 40 minutes, by which time the metal head holding it was almost white hot. So changing it was a tricky job, especially as bits of hot metal flew off and they had to make sure there was no damage to the mirror. The negative electrode needed replacing every 2 hours.

Sound locating amplifiers were used to pinpoint the position of aircraft before illuminating them, but were inefficient and difficult to keep in working condition. If an enemy aircraft was picked up by the searchlights in the early years of the war, it was generally considered to have been by good luck. The sound locators were replaced by radar by the end of 1942, and searchlights then became much more effective.

The 437th Battery was positioned north of the River Mersey during the winter of 1940-41. The searchlights were spaced out to about 6,000 yards to cover the area. The winter was cold with heavy snow, and Fred endured this with his mates. In about March 1941, the weather was still cold, there was very heavy rain and Fred was in a camp where they were housed in Nissen huts. Their only source of heat was a single coke-fired stove in the centre of the hut, and this was also expected to dry them out. The rain became so bad that the camp flooded, the water rose to about 2 feet deep in places, the huts were flooded out and the beds were floating in some huts. Fred’s chest trouble continued sporadically since his days at Belle Vue and, in the cold and damp of the camp, his health worsened and he contracted pneumonia. Four other men also caught the disease at about the same time, and two of them died from it.

Fred was transferred to hospital (probably the military hospital in Preston) where he recovered. He was then allowed home to convalesce, but eventually had to return to the army. It was the late summer of 1941 by now, the weather was better and everything seemed to be back to normal. Fred soon became ill again, though, when the winter came, and this time it was much more serious.

He returned to hospital, but there was little treatment available. Antibiotics would have cured him, but the small amounts available were needed for the fighting troops. The only treatment was rest and nursing. By early 1942, he was in a hospital in Preston, again probably the military hospital. The hospital service was stretched to breaking point, there was a shortage of doctors and nurses, and they had little time to attend to people like Fred, who would have been better off in a normal hospital. He gradually became worse, too ill to look after himself. Two men in the same ward tried to help him but they were sick themselves. It was almost every man for himself. His condition continued to worsen.

Fred joined the army full of enthusiasm, a hail and hearty man, but now he was down to only about 5 stone (32 kilos) in weight, something like half the weight when he enlisted. Ruby visited him every Sunday, the only day she could leave the shop, and became increasingly worried - notice she did not leave the shop during the week, even to see her desperately ill husband. She tried to get something done about it in the hospital, but was unsuccessful. Everybody was too busy. A doctor advised her there was nothing they could do and she should get him home. It was clear that if Ruby didn’t get Fred some proper treatment soon, he might die. At her next Sunday visit, the doctors agreed he could leave - but they would not take responsibility for the outcome.

Ruby was then faced with the problem of how to get Fred home. There were no ambulances or taxis available and he was too ill to travel by public transport. She knew a man called Sammy Fielding, one of the wholesalers in Smithfield Market who had a car and often visited his aunt at St. Anne’s near Blackpool, on Sundays. Ruby was lucky. Few people had their own transport, and petrol was heavily rationed and hardly available. Sammy agreed to take her to the hospital on his way the following Sunday, and pick her and Fred up again on the way back. He dropped her off in the morning outside the hospital gates and arranged to meet her back there at 4 o’clock in the afternoon.

Fred was ill and weak, just able to walk. The two men who had looked after Fred in the ward helped to get him to the front door of the hospital. But from there, she was on her own. Ruby managed to get Fred down the steps. Then it was a long walk to the main gate and they had to keep stopping to let him catch his breath. Ruby was only a small woman who weighed about seven stone (45 kilos) and she had almost to carry him, but she was full of guts and strong willed. She needed everything she had to get him to the gate through the extensive grounds.

They finally reached the gate at just after 4 o’clock. It was very busy with ambulances, buses and people, but there was no access for cars. Cars had to park on the road outside down a hill, and Sammy was nowhere to be seen. Ruby was desperate by this time. There was nowhere for Fred to sit, so she told him to hang on to the railings with both hands, not to let go, and stay there. She knew that if he fell there was no chance of her being able to lift him up again. She then went off to find the car, hoping that Sammy hadn’t left without them. She eventually found him, he had been early, and he had circled around three times already whilst waiting for them. They managed to get Fred into the car and he lay, covered up, on the back seat all the way home. She sat on the edge of the seat with him to make sure he didn’t fall off.

Ruby made up a bed for Fred downstairs when they got home to Ravensbury Street. She did not dare risk getting him upstairs, as he was exhausted. She stayed up all night to look after him. Early on Monday morning, Dr Taylor came to examine him. He told her that Fred’s condition was due to ”shear neglect” and he would certainly have died had he not been brought home. Dr Taylor sent Fred immediately to the Jewish Hospital as a private patient, where he stayed for a month for a cost of £80. When he returned home, Fred continued to sleep downstairs because he was still not strong enough to climb the stairs and developed a pain in his heart if he exerted himself. Dr Taylor arranged for a chest consultant to visit Fred, and he diagnosed angina in addition to the lung problems, and prescribed plenty of rest.

It was about two years before Fred became properly fit again, but he never regained his former health. His lungs were irreparably damaged and he suffered with complex asthma, bronchitis and general lung debility for the rest of his life. There were almost no drugs available to treat him, other than a proprietary medicine called Felsol - an anti-inflammatory and expectorant that helped shift the volumes of phlegm that his lungs produced. He was plagued with phlegm and was constantly coughing and spitting, but it was a small price to pay for somebody who had almost died, not that this stopped Ruby continually telling him off about it. Despite everything Fred had been through, she could be unsympathetic to his ailments, and had a low tolerance level with anybody’s problems, other than her own.

Fred was discharged from the army on 5th October 1942 having served for just over two years. His record stated that he was “permanently unfit for any form of military service”. He must have applied for a pension because his army records were sent to the Ministry of Pensions in 1942, but did not receive one. Presumably, because his condition was not a direct result of his army service. He could not continue his trade as a plumber, even if he had wanted to, so it was fortunate that they had invested in the greengrocery business a few of years earlier.

T he war offered plenty of opportunities for small shopkeepers to make a lot of money. Everything was in short supply and they could charge a top price for it. Many items were rationed, such as meat and refined foods like sugar and flour, but fresh vegetables were available in season and were in great demand to extend the meagre meat ration. Long queues of customers often formed outside food shops; everything was expensive, but it all sold. At the same time, shopkeepers had access to food and could barter between themselves, so they were never short of most things. Ruby was a regular at Smithfield Market during the war years when butter was in particularly short supply. There was a stall on the market that sold butter and the owner took a fancy to Ruby. She had no interest in him, but Fred encouraged her to be nice to him, which she did and secured their butter supply for the rest of the war.

Ruby and Fred were making more money than they ever imagined when they started in business in 1937, and not suffering much from the shortages. One of their best schemes was to buy barrels of apples when they were in season in the autumn and store them until Christmas, when there was no fresh fruit. They were stored in the garage in the back yard and, every few weeks, Fred gently poured them out on the floor. He then removed any bad fruit, and returned the rest to the barrel. They made a hefty profit from the apples until many years after the war ended.

In about the summer of 1943, Fred and Ruby moved to 246 Manor Road in Droylsden to take over her mother's shop, who wanted to buy a house in Blackpool. Gladys was still unmarried and lived live with her, and moved with her to Blackpool.

By 1944, Fred had still not fully recovered from his pneumonia and his health was impaired for life. Then Ruby got pregnant and it seemed to solve everything for them - the final thing they needed to get their life together again. They could now put the past behind them and look to the future with optimism.

I have much more information on my parents Fred and Ruby Collins, and their families. It will take me some while to upload it. Anyone interested can contact me on: gabrian@btinternet.com.