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Sergeant Alf Waterhouse
Fireman 93
In 1937 war seemed imminent and newspapers and radio were calling for people to take up Air Raid Precautions. I thought the Fire Brigade sounded my cup of tea, so after I wrote to the Fire Chief, I attended an interview at the Fire Station. The Fire Chief suggested, as I was an Old Boy of Arnold School, who were boarding and day boys, there were opportunities to become an officer in the Brigade as a volunteer fireman. I would be a regular, wearing a standard uniform, on duty Tuesday and Thursday from 7am to 9pm. If called out I would receive 10 pence per hour.
So I became a fireman number 93. I think I attended for about three months, and no fires. The regular men soon lost interest in me, as a beginner, they played Table Tennis, draughts and chess better than I. However, I had learnt which fire tender to be on if required. There was a notice each day detailing men to their tenders.
On a fateful Sunday, I was asked to stand in as half the Brigade were at a meeting in Preston. I found myself on No. 1 engine position, rear on the left side or near side. Putting on my helmet, belt, tunic etc. and in position for a quick call out and it happened, the bell went on. With strict discipline the fire engines roared out but not No. 1. I was sat in my position thinking to myself that there will be hell to pay about this, but then the duty officer appeared and shouted at me.
“What the hell are you playing at ? ”
I told him I was Number four on engine No. 1.
“Don’t you know that No. 1 truck changes automatically to No. 3 and vice versa at 3pm each day. You’d better get to the address as quick as possible”.
I had at that time a MG open tourist model, so I raced down the promenade with my helmet on and my foot down on the pedal, a policeman on point duty looked at me with his mouth wide open.
The fire was in a basement and through the outside double doors, black smoke was belching out. The fire chief saw me and shouted
“Get in that cellar and give me a lift”
As our firemen had no fancy clothes or oxygen masks, we just breathed the foul smoke and got on with it. I felt I was choking to death for my ten pence call out pay.
A senior officer said to me
“Come on lets get this wringer out”
Others were busy carrying out goodness knows what. I laughed to myself, did he imagine this old clapped out wringer machine would burn?
The Station also held two ambulances which served the town, today there are at least six. I served on an ambulance twice, but with no accident call outs. The fireman would tell me and others tall stories of ambulance work, with some blood curdling stories.
One Sunday, the telephone rang.
“Come at once and report for duty, the North Pier is alight”.
It seemed a long way to walk or run to the length of the pier, how scared I was. The Fire Chief spotted me and pointed to a part of the pavilion,
“Get over to that corner and help your mate”
I looked in shock, did he mean it, between where we were standing and the fireman, a large part of the wooded flooring was burnt away. There was just about room for me to step very lightly. I could see beneath me and the sea seemed quite rough, what would stop me falling in and maybe hitting some iron work, but get there I did.
I was handed over the water hose, telling me to play water on an area. I had never held a hose and the powerful thrust nearly sent me flying, leaving me to it he left. It seemed like hours and dread hit me as I thought they had forgotten me. I was enveloped in smoke and steam and it was getting colder and colder. Some time later I just left the spot allocated to me, no one seemed to know or care, so I wanted to get my own back. Where I was standing, on the untouched part of the pier, was a sweet and tobacco kiosk. I heard a man in civilian clothes saying to the woman in the kiosk, that he was Councillor Smith, chairman of the Fire Brigade committee,
“Please give to these brave men anything they want, Cigarettes etc. the council will pay”(were we brave, I know I wasn’t)
This was too good to be true, so I chanced my arm and received ‘Twenty Players’ and told not to pay as the council would cover it.
Taking my helmet off out of view, I strolled in again receiving ‘Twenty Gold Flake’, again free. Dirtying my face I strolled in and received a packet of sandwiches free. I acted childish against my fellow firemen as I didn’t tell them about the free gifts. On returning to the Station we had to wash down and polish the three fire engines. A few started grumbling about running out of cigarettes so I handed round my winnings. Many thanked me, and I confessed my guilt, they swore at me but good natured. I began to think they were the salt of the earth.
A big campaign was started, a Blackpool Regiment of Royal Artillery was to be recruited. If attending Camp five pounds was paid out, and the cream of Blackpool’s young men were recruited, Solicitors, three Chartered Accountants, a Dentist etc. We came back three hundred men.
The Blackpool Regiment consisted of eight hundred and fifty jolly chaps. We had no artillery guns and believed they were on the way, but the media were saying how little equipment was available, and it would take years to supply and make an Expeditionary Force.
My Golf Club had a Colonel and an ex Admiral as members, their objective being to enlist likely officers. In my ignorance I asked for details, the retired Colonel strangely suggested that I was Royal Air Force material and he would guarantee me officer rank. So I was to be examined by an Officer Board, and they agreed that I fitted their wants but I must pass an optician first.
My fate was in my hands when the Royal Air Force Optician produced a book, each page all squared and highly coloured. I had at that time a childish sense of humour not realising he was a serious professional man. He asked me to explain the detail on a page,
“Oh ! I cried, a man with kidney trouble”
He then asked if there was anything else,
“Oh yes, he had a bad headache”
With that he snapped his book and told me I was colour blind.
“Me, colour blind, you must be joking, let me try again”
This was refused and I was told to my joy, the army would claim me.
Early in the war, Blackpool boys who joined the RAF at that time, flew over Germany dropping leaflets, many were killed so the Army was a much better option.
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