The Broken Vacuum Handle and the Mayo Woman Who Saved Thousands of Lives on D-Day
Don’t get irritated with someone at the end of the phone who works in a call centre or a customer service desk. You just never know who you are talking to and what their life story is all about. For me, a broken handle on a vacuum cleaner led to a remarkable story and an event that will be celebrated this Thursday, with church bells ringing out, beacons and ‘Lamp Lights of Peace’ being lit to signify the light that emerged from the fearful darkness of world war. What’s the connection? Maureen Sweeney from the coast of Co Mayo, a woman who is now remembered for saving up to 156,000 military lives 80 years ago.
I got to know all this when ordering the new handle from Mark Stapleton, who works in Worcester near Birmingham. When I gave my address in Northern Ireland, we got chatting, and he told me about his family in the west of Ireland. “My dad, my grandad, and three brothers were all lighthouse keepers, and I wish I had been able to join in the family tradition, but it wasn’t to be,” Mark told me. “They were responsible for Blackrock and Blacksod Lights, a very turbulent posting right on the coast where the wild Atlantic wind and waves were an ever-present danger to shipping.”
Mark’s father was born in the lightkeeper’s cottage on the Mullet Peninsula in the townland of Aghleam, where even to this day there’s only a handful of cottages. But it was important for another reason: the weather station in Blacksod Bay. There, Maureen Sweeney, who was postmistress and operator in the weather station, took hourly barometer readings throughout the day and night. Coming up to the Allied invasion of Normandy, these reports were vital, and on June 3, 1944, the readings showed a storm approaching from the Atlantic.
Winston Churchill even phoned Maureen just to make totally sure, but she was adamant: the Atlantic storm was on the way, bringing hazardous winds and poor visibility. Eisenhower took the decision to postpone D-Day for 24 hours, plans went on hold, and so Maureen changed the course of history, saving thousands of lives.
As this 21-year-old was taking her record at 1 am that morning, she registered the severe storm making its way towards Europe and gaining pace over the Atlantic Ocean. At the same time in London, complex plans were going ahead for the D-Day landing in France on Wednesday, June 5; however, Maureen had other ideas. As Mark explained, although Ireland was officially neutral, information from the Irish Meteorological Service was shared with the Allies.
From Blacksod, Maureen phoned her urgent report to the British Meteorological Office in London and received a call back asking for the reading to be checked again. Mark understands that Winston Churchill even phoned Maureen just to make totally sure, but she was adamant: the Atlantic storm was on the way, bringing hazardous winds and poor visibility. Eisenhower took the decision to postpone for 24 hours, plans went on hold, and so Maureen changed the course of history, saving thousands of military lives – almost 156,000 could have been lost at sea.
She became something of a celebrity and a hero to the villagers, including Mark’s dad, and they were proud when she was awarded a special US House of Representatives honor. Maureen died last December at 100 years of age, but her name will live on forever. Thank you Mark for introducing me to Maureen. A similar connection can happen when it comes to call centers.
For instance, the day my husband was on the phone for 20 minutes going over a query and apparently getting nowhere. Then, success, problem solved. However, the conversation didn’t end there. “Yes, she is,” I could hear him say. “Yes, she’s the journalist. Yes, we live in Belfast. Yes, she’s sitting opposite me, hold on…” The young man was speaking from somewhere in Manchester. He introduced himself as Paul, and I recognized a local voice; he told me his story. He was working in the call center to make enough money go put himself through a journalism course to fulfill his desire to work in newspapers. Then came a surprise.
“I know you, Mrs. Hailes,” he told me. “I used to play in your back garden with Susie and Michael.” When he introduced himself, the penny dropped; he had lived close by when he was much younger. It was lovely to chat, and after we said goodbye, I wondered what would happen to him. Now when I get cold calls, I remember Paul and hope our chat went some way towards getting him on the path to his chosen career. I have learned to be precise with cold callers, just say thank you for your call, but I’m not interested. Used to be I would ask if they had an appointment to speak to Mrs. Hailes because as I was her secretary, I knew she wasn’t free to speak and have a bit of fun at their expense. Now I just say, “No thank you,” although sometimes a little conversation will lead to a wonderful personal story.
