Wartime Memories of Working in Herstmonceux Castle

The following is an extract from 'Memories of a Sussex Childhood' by Hettie J. Friend. Unfortunately, Hettie is no longer with us but I know she would be delighted to have her words included in the 'Their Finest Hour' database. I have obtained the permission of the booklet producers, Herstmonceux Village Information Centre to use the content of this booklet.

Hettie was born on 15th December 1927 in the village of Herstmonceux in East Sussex. She grew up in the village and lived there for some years as an adult. Herstmonceux Castle played a large part in Hettie's life. In Hettie's own words here are her abiding memories:

'Of a fete which I think took place in about 1938, may have been the occasion when Sir Paul opened up the Castle and grounds to the village, as he was aware that he would shortly be selling or leasing these to the Hearts of Oak Benefit society. The newspaper cutting '(not provided) 'shows me dancing the Maypole on the lawn next to the Mulberry Tree. We were indeed asked for an encore in the evening as the sun was setting and the worms were rising. Which felt a bit squelchy under our bare feet.

We had little time for pleasure after this, as the war came and we were occupied with other things until I left school at the age of 14. Having already decided that I wanted to work in an office, I applied to the castle for an interview. I was accepted and started work on Jan. 2nd 1942. Like so many, the war had given me an opportunity I would otherwise never have had. My starting wage was 17/6d of which I gave my Mother 12/6d.

Of course, the only means of transport was by bicycle, which was quite hard, as I was always late! What a relief that lovely run down the main drive was, after climbing the hill by Cleavers Lyng in breathless fashion.

My first day was spent in the state bedroom, which was still hung with tapestries from its former glory. Quite awe-inspiring to say the least. The room was lined with ledger racks and crisscrossed with trestle tables. This was P.C. 2. I believe and so started my working life.

My seat was at the very end of one of these tables, being the junior of juniors, and I was set the task of putting pieces of paper in order and making 'change of address' notes in ledgers. All very boring after a while, but when my mother enquired how my day had gone, I said that everyone had been very nice to me and that I had been given a special chair which moved when I moved, little realising that this had been the most rickety chair in the department and being the newest of newcomers, I had been blessed with it. I can see that chair to this day.

Later I was transferred to P.C. 1, led by Mr Percy Grant which was situated in the corridor outside, overlooking the quadrangle, needless to say very draughty in winter. As a special concession, we were allowed to wear 'slacks' (trousers) to the office, which at that time was quite revolutionary.

Eventually, I was promoted to 'ledger clerk' and was given a set of ledgers to care for and balance completely. At the recent reunion (2010?) I learned that I was at that time the youngest ledger clerk in the Society. This is due to the fact that my predecessor had been 'called up' as so many were at the time. Goodbye ' change of address' forms and an increase in salary to £1.15s per week. What riches, how would I spend it all?

Still, life was not without its hazards, and it was not long before these were felt by all of us. Everyone has their memories of being cannon-shelled and of the bomb that fell where the daffodils now grow. But still, we were privileged to have our lunchtime sandwiches in one of the loveliest gardens in Sussex, and in the winter allowed in the China room, where glass-fronted cupboards lined the walls filled with the most beautiful pieces imaginable. The original silk furnishings were still in evidence and thick beige carpet on the floor. How lucky were we?

Around however there was always personal tragedy and this became more evident when the 'Doodlebugs' came. Hearing an awful noise one night and seeing green tracer bullets flying into the air, one wondered what we were to endure next. My Mother called us to come downstairs as these were new 'pilotless planes' which were destined to cause much havoc for months to come. Strangely one got used to them, if that is possible, as we knew all the time you could hear them you were safe. My fortnight's holiday that year was spent watching the Tempest aircraft passing to and fro, endeavouring to tip the wings of these flying objects and turn them out to sea. Sometimes successful, sometimes not.

The doodlebugs must have had some sort of fixed course and timetable, as many times one crossed my path at Flowers Green at 8.55 a.m. when it was a question of trying to get to work on time or dive for the ditch.

Next came the V.2s which were even more horrendous, but thank goodness the war ended before these gained a hold. So it was the end of an era for the Castle.

Subsequently, the Royal Observatory came and so began another set of memories for another set of people. Alas! The tapestries and old furnishings are all gone, but gratefully another benefactor has arrived to ensure that the dear old Castle has emerged relatively unscathed to continue as a place of learning.

Let us hope that it will come to mean as much to all of those that now pass through its doors, as it comes to mean to those of the last half century.'