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Dora’s Story by Dora Pugh

There were four of us driving the ambulances: Jim, who was nearly 60, myself at just over 20 and two young boys Joseph and James, we were voluntary. We didn’t get paid because Matron told us “ somebody’s got to go “ I’d only driven a horse and dray. I used to have curly hair and a policeman standing around by Lewis’s said “What’s the trouble, Curly?” I said “ I can’t get round the bend or I’ll go into that window!” Jim only told me all I wanted to know: how to start and how to stop. We weren’t taught anything else at all. There were more (ambulance drivers) from other areas but there were a lot who didn’t come back.

There were police and other people in caps, shouting directions to us. ‘Keep to the Left! Turn Right!’ You couldn’t have any light, you didn’t know where you were. Jim often went to the Cemetery, because they used to have big places — Methodist, Baptist Catholic and so on. You had to be very careful how you got round. People killed were put in (body) bags. I remember bursting out crying when the bodies of five nurses were put into these bags; I think two of them were (hospital) Sisters.

That night, it seemed the Germans were trying to get near the Austin Motor Works. What with lights flashing and casualties, it was very difficult indeed, dreadful. I was very relieved to get back, thinking nothing would be as bad as that, so I thought. ‘Yes, I’ll be able to stand it and get through it’. But then there came another night. It was continual bombing in Birmingham buit not on a heavy scale. Up at Holloway Head, near Queens Hospital, the church was bombed, had a direct hit — a lovely church, where I’d often worshipped because of working near there.

When the mains and the sewer were bombed, we had to go carefully with water. My brother’s farm at Wetheroak near Alvechurch, had five springs. He came to Birmingham the first time with just two, seventeen gallon tankers. That was not very much, really. We had to wash our face with a flannel, with five or six of us sharing it. Because it was my brother, Matron always saw to it that I had a drink. Oh, I was glad! I thought it was just wonderful to get a drink!

The best night we had was Bristol. They brought us bread and mustard sandwiches — I did enjoy them. It was so cold. There was no bombing on Christmas Day or January 1st, but after that there was plenty of bombing.

But a few nights afterwards, we were called to Coventry. It seemed a ball of fire to me as we approached it. The bombs were raining on it — one a minute I should think and many bombers over. All of a sudden, great lumps of concrete came from the Cathedral. Nobody within ten yards of it could have got out. To see this beautiful Cathedral, with the lovely , coloured glass windows crashing and all on the floor! The Children’s Home and an old People’s Home both had a direct hit.

It went quiet for a bit and my companion said, ‘Thank god for that. We’ll get a drink of water if we can.’ The mains and sewer were bombed. Suddenly, (and this will live in my memory for ever and ever) there was a dear old soul coming up from below probably from a cellar. She was holding this chipped, cracked mug and all her clothes were ragged. I said to Joe: ‘I’ll take her to hospital and II told her they’d get her a nice dress and that. But before she went, she said, ‘Just have a sip of water, dear. Only a sip.’ I was parched. Oh, I was so thankful. She said, ‘I’ve been splashing it; it was nearly full and I’ve got down to hardly anything now’. Then after more silence, they came over with sort of black balloons and as they reached the ground or just before, they exploded. It was like treacle but it was TAR and then it started spraying about, like a fountain, People were screaming and crying out with pain. They hadn’t got helmets and coats like us. (We were given hard hats and coats because of the rain and cold and we had red rubber (gauntlet) gloves. Jim wouldn’t wear them but he wished he had because he had some of this awful tar. He wanted to wipe my face with something to get it off but he had to do that with a nappy — a used one!

I brought six patients at a time, two lying on the (ambulance) floor, the others more comfortable. I wanted blankets for them because it was cold. I never got the patients OUT of the ambulance, there were people to do that. ‘No need to get out, lovely’ they said, ‘Go straight back! Look, we can’t take any more. Go to Nuneaton!’ I said. ‘Where’s Nuneaton?’ ‘Coventry way. There’ll be people shouting.’

They were very nice there. Two women were wiping my face. They said, ‘Oh we’ve got stuck with all this black stuff you’ve got all over you! It can’t have come down!’ I said. ‘It was dreadful.’ (There were patients at the Queen’s Hospital and the staff didn’t know what to do about the tar.) They said, ‘You’ve got it all over your helmet.’ I was stuck to the ambulance seat; Matron gave me some rags to sit on. She said, ‘Are your knickers all right?’ I said, ‘I think so.’ I thought of my sisters in London, wondering how they were. I couldn’t get in touch with them. We got to Coventry at 5.30 in the afternoon and we didn’t leave there until 10 past 6 in the morning. I was really worn out. Matron asked me and I just broke down. I couldn’t tell her anything.

It was something I never dreamt people could do — I never knew that sort of thing was manufactured. I used to weep a lot but Jim said, ‘It’s no use crying. We’re in a war now. It’s getting worse’ and I said, ‘Well nothing can be worse than this’ and nothing was. I was quite an innocent person, having been brought up in an orphanage. I’m glad that my son, grandchildren and great-grandchild won’t see anything like it. Sometimes, well you wondered if there WAS a God but there always has been and always will be where I’m concerned.
This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Sue Russell of the Âé¶čÉç on behalf of Mrs Dora Pugh and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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