EXAMINER reader John Senior has penned this poem in memory of his parents.

They wed in June 1944 and both worked for the war effort.

John, 67, of Netherthong – who has a younger brother, Richard – said: “My parents were Alec and Gladys Senior and they lived most of their married life at Hoylandswaine.

“During the war dad was a colliery deputy in Hoylandswaine and in the Home Guard and mum was a signalwoman on sidings at Dunford Bridge.’’

The poem is about the often forgotten people of World War Two – the women left behind at home and those who worked down the mines.

Wartime Brides

Railway ladies, they called them ‘Janes’

Wartime jobs to run the trains

Porters, guards and signal girls

Uniforms and hair in curls

Wartime brides and service wives

Perhaps alone to live their lives

With husbands, lovers in faraway places

Or working shifts in reserved occupations

Miners, steel men, mills and farms

Or in the Forces bearing arms

To keep us all safe from the foe

No exception, all had to go

Gladys Senior, donned boots and socks

Walked through the fields to the signal box

Climbed up the stairs to the warm inside

Doris Kaye, an army bride

Waiting for relief, then home to bed

Afternoon shift over, time to lay her head

Dreaming of Jack in Northern France

D-Day landings and not much chance

To write home to his wife worried and waiting

For the conflict to end and war abating

Reading his letters and wishing he’d be free

Safe and sound back home to stay

Gladys, busy with bells and levers

A part of the shunting yard’s endeavours

To put together trains of bombs

Ammo, vehicles, guns and tons

Of military gear

Off to the airfields, docks and boats

To feed the force’s hungry throats

The siren sounds, enemy planes are due

Black-out checks by the sidings crew

A bomber’s moon and silver rails

To guide enemy pilots to the Sheffield mills

If only they knew of the cargoes here

No-one admits a little fear

The all-clear sounds, and back to the job

Gladys, Norman, Harold, Bob

Between the bells she’ll think of Alec

In his bed up in the attic

Though they’re wed, still live with mum

To get to work would have to come

Too many miles for wartime ration

No petrol coupons for commuter travel

But come the weekend and time’s their own

For a married couple, though in other’s homes

Doing up the cottage as time permits

Near Alec’s work down at the pits

Once war is over then we’ll be

At last a proper family

Try for a baby in the summertime

Forget the war, get on with life.