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George Spenceley recalls his memories of training to be a farmer in Yorkshire in the 1940's.
I was transferred to a farm in the village of Mappleton. The farmer was a very friendly man called Mr. Basham. He always took everything in his stride. 'Come on son' he greeted me 'I'll introduce you to Harry he's the other lad we have helping here'.
I followed him into the stockyard where he introduced me to a lad a little older than me was forking hay into a rack for the beef cattle to feed on. He then left me in the stockyard with about forty very large cows, I just stood there afraid to move.
Harry realized that I didn't dare move so he made his way over towards me gently pushing some of the animals out of the way, he squeezed through to where I was standing. I stuck very close to him while we made our way back through the beasts. Harry treated it as a big joke.
Next morning I was greeted by Mr. Basham with a huge grin on his face, the other lad must have told him about the previous day and how I was afraid of the animals. 'Come on George you'll be working with me today there'll be no animals, we're going to drill seeds'.
He coupled a trailer to the tractor then again called me to follow him as he crossed the yard to the granary. It was stacked on one side with a number of large sacks full of corn and an unusual looking sack barrow.
The handle when turned lifted the heavy sacks to the required height. The sacks were massive, 'How much corn does a sack hold I asked'. 'We are lucky today' he said jokingly 'this is barley and that is lighter than corn, there's fourteen stone in each of these sacks if it had been wheat they'd have weighed in at sixteen stone'.
He got a grip on one of the sacks, dragged it towards the sack barrow then putting both his arms around it and leaning it slightly backwards, he lifted it just off the floor, turned and rested it on the barrow.
'Right young man now turn the handle' he said. I struggled with the handle and turned it until the sack of corn was about the height of his back then I stopped for a breather. 'Now take hold of the sack, lean forward until you can balance it on your back but bend your knees slightly' he said.
In doing this I then had the full fourteen stone on my back and it felt as though it was trying to push me through the floor. The farmer thought it was a huge joke. 'Now walk forward and put the sack on the trailer'.
The weight on my shoulders was crushing me, slowly I staggered towards the trailer which was about fifteen feet away, my legs were starting to buckle beneath me. 'Come on you can do it' encouraged the farmer, 'Come on you're nearly there' he said.
All the time he was watching to ensure that I didn't get hurt. At last I was there I'd managed to get the sack on to the trailer with some help from the farmer. I sank down on the steps of the granary, my legs felt like jelly and my heart was thumping as though it was going to burst through my ribs.
The farmer climbed aboard the tractor and I stood on the drawbar holding on as best I could as we bumped out of the yard along the farm track to the field. 'Have you ever driven one of these machines?' he asked. 'No sir' I replied.
'Well climb on to the seat and have a go son, don't be afraid'. I climbed on to the tractor and sat myself on the large metal seat, 'Now you see that gate in the far corner of the field' I just nodded, 'well drive across towards it.
I pressed down the clutch pedal and with a lot of grating and grinding I finally selected second gear. 'Well done' he said 'now lift your foot off the clutch pedal' which I did and the tractor jumped forward almost throwing us off. 'Careful, careful' he said smiling as he was trying to light his pipe.
I set a course for the other side of the field checking the steering every few feet for the tractor was going anywhere but where I wanted it to go. When we arrived I certainly felt great.
The field I'd driven across was spring wheat about nine inches tall. 'Well, well' said the farmer 'I can just about make it out. What did you say your name was?' he asked me. 'George' I replied. 'I thought so, look back across the field, your steering was so erratic anyone would think you were writing your signature!'
Sowing corn seed was a very exacting skill. The driver had to make a perfectly straight line down the field drilling the seed. I then had to pull a lever, which dropped a disc on to the soil to mark the next row.
To start with this job was very easy but after about an hour or so perched on the back of the tractor with the dust from the seed drills blowing up into my face I started to feel very cold and tired.
It was a twenty-three acre field and from one end to the other it seemed an eternity. The drilling went on and on, five o'clock came and it was time for me to go back to the hostel but he asked if I'd stay until the field was finished as there was a possibility of rain over night, tired as I was I agreed to stay.
When we got back to the farm he phoned the hostel to say that I was having my tea with him and his wife and that I'd be back later. I was very nervous but his wife ushered me to the table. Hanging from the ceiling were sides of home cured bacon and hams.
I had never seen so much food it reminded me of what I'd seen on the films, the spread was mind-boggling. I ate my fill and with the warmth of the big fire dropped off to sleep, the next thing I knew was when I was being shaken as it was time to go back to the hostel.
George Spenceley, 2002
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