A DAIRY FARMER'S WAR
By .R. NORMAN WYATT ATE one chilly autumn evening in the sombre days of 1939 nusual occurrence you may think ; but it was. That day had en the first day's ploughing on that farm for many years. As
e tractor trundled down the headland toward the gate the driver ooked with pride down the long straight furrows stretching away nto the gloom ; but his companion's mind was filled with other
houghts. That brown. patch of earth was to him the first scar f revolution on his farming policy. The days of peace and national
rosperity had gone; the land of England was at war—yes, the and! Already hungry eyes, anticipating the hard days ahead, ooked to their native soil as the future larder of the nation.
"The Government says we must plough forty-five acres," the armer said to his sons. When men have pleased themselves all eir lives, it comes hard to be told what they must do. It was
ith mixed feelings that the order had been received. Long days a f peace always makes individualism strong, but the feelings of atriotism inherent in everyone ensured that the new campaign ould be taken seriously. Very soon the early murmurings died say, and the farm staff put their shoulders to the task, distasteful
hough it was, because compulsory. As those first acres were toughed it seemed to all concerned that it was the maximum effort ossible. Had we been told the proportions the campaign would ventually assume we would have laughed and exclaimed "Never! 'hat about all the cows, and all the sheep, and all the poultry? here will they live? " Even farm hands had still much to learn bout the soil they serve.
As for the pigs, sheep, and poultry in question, it was soon clear at they would have to be sacrificed to the hungry plough and the ungrier people. The Government's policy was to make the farmers self-supporting. Until the land settled down to the new order of hings much of the stock would be pushed off the farms. Like e people, it had long been depending on foreign imports, and the round was producing a fraction of what it might. Farmers were called upon to feed not only all this stock, but the rest of the ommunity into the bargain. The task was gigantic, but the land as equal to it. Time was the governing factor.
Farmers may follow any creed under the sun in politics, but in arming they are conservatives to a man. Long contact with the changeless laws of nature has drummed it into them, and it has become part of them. Old ideas die hard, and once new ones are accepted they are not abandoned again lightly. Was it to be wandered at that these hard-working freemen of the land took hardly to the Government's interference in a world it clearly did not understand? If there was to be a revolution in farming it would have to be a slow one, and more important still, the farmers
themselves would have to shape it and bring it about. Market days were full of angry talk about muddle in the world of pigs.
How could those in authority understand that sows go on producing more little pigs as long as sixteen weeks after a cut in the pig population has been ordered? They seemed to give little .thought to such important details. However, there was good will on both sides, and as more and more the farmers were consulted many of the early muddles were straightened out.
Spring, 1940, was a strange spring on this farm. For the first time for many years no chicks were reared, and the old wooden brooder-houses stood silent and empty. The ewes were lambed down for the last time, and sadly sold. The pigs were kept on for some time until stricter rationing sent them off to an urban swill- feeder, and the youngsters to market. Of course, there was a positive side to it all. On warm spring days the tractors hummed cheerily as they crossed and recrossed the -fields preparing a seed- bed for the spring crop. As summer came, the wheat which had been hidden all the winter by the snow grew tall and stately. Then came the magic hour when the first ear was seen, and the older men nodded their heads wisely and said; "Six weeks to harvest! " The pessimists among them had rivalled each other in telling of terrible harvests of the past. When the sun shone out of a cloudless sky for days on end, and no rain fell for many weeks, they lost a lot of prestige. None who helped to gather in the corn that year will ever forget it. In spite of the lovely August weather, the fall of France had brought the war home to all. Through the long summer days farm hands and students worked side by side gathering in the sheaves which were to save Britain "in the long winter before them. No casual observer would have dreamed of the seriousness of the situation by the light-hearted fun that went on round the supper-table when the day's work was done. The news of Fighter Command's success, combined with one or two actions they witnessed, gave them good heart to go on. God and His weather was on their side ; who guessed the sober truth? An army without arms ; a larder half empty ; a food rationing system in its infancy ; and the mighty enemy only 23 miles away across the calm blue sea. To whatever causes, under God, history attributes Britain's survival in 1940-4 the efforts of the farming community cannot be overlooked.
The fall of 1940 saw the plough encroach still further on the remaining grassland. Now in 1943 it has claimed more than half the farm, and will shortly take in ten acres more. To trace the development of the whole scheme would take too. long, but certain facts stand out clearly as we look back. Foremost is the size of the dairy herd. Remarkable as it may appear, it was found possible to maintain it at full strength. Sixty cows are now milked, and much young stock is being reared, though some of the latter is off the farm at the moment. We can honestly say we are now quite self- supporting. Not only are we able to support our stock through the winter, but many tons of food for the nation are sent away every year. Take sugar beet as an example. This is our second year of growing. Both years we have grown ten acres, and pro- duced 26o tons of beet. This means 4o tons of sugar, or a week's ration for 18o,000 people, or a year's for 54o. Again, some of our old friends have returned in modest numbers. A small herd of Wessex saddleback pigs has put in an appeaance, twenty-four Border Leicester ewes have arrived, and we anticipate having our first lambs in April. Thus the stock position returns to what it was in 1939 with this difference. All their food is home-produced. Revolution has swung full circle, and left us not where we were before, but a full turn ahead.
Whai of the future? This question is always in the mind of the farmer. Farming is a long-term business, and rapid changes in national policy which might follow quickly on peace would ruin lens of thousands of farmers. The sword is suspended over their heads by the slender thread of public favour. Farmers know and trust Providence, 'that has so long filled their barns, but experience has taught them to look with a certain amount of suspicion on the w:11-meaning, but short-sighted folk they are now so courageously trying to feed. The dairy farmer has played his part in the war, and will expect his voice to be heard when peace comes again.
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