Wartime Memories of a WAAF Pt 1, 1939-VEDay

There was a stunned silence. We all stared at each other in disbelief, then all started talking. “Oh my God! They said it wouldn’t happen. Whatever will we do?” It was that fateful day in early September 1939, my mother, our neighbour and I were sitting in our living room listening to the wireless and had just heard that war had been declared. I said “Will I never see Jack again, will he be off to fight?” My mother looked kindly at me and said, “Don’t worry; it won’t happen as quickly as that.” She was, of course, quite right because my boy-friend worked in a reserved occupation and was not allowed to volunteer until much later and when he did join up he was stationed at a local R.A.F. camp and we saw each other for quite some time before he was posted overseas.
My next vivid memory was the frightening sound of the air-raid warning and everyone was running about shouting. “Oh! Not already. No not yet” The lady across the street was running back and forwards crying “Where’s the bairn? Where’s the bairn? Have you seen the bairn?” The ‘bairn’ was a scruffy little girl who everyone said was ‘left to God and good neighbours’ but we decided that her mother must love her after all. There was no sound of planes overhead nor were the ‘Ack-Ack’ guns at the coast to be heard and before long the ‘all clear’ wailed and we all breathed a sigh of relief. We did wonder if it was a warning for all of us to be on our toes.
Things more or less settled down after that but life was never the same. We all went about our business just the same; everyone went to work as usual, trains and buses ran on time as usual, there weren’t many cars on the roads at that time but those that were had their headlights masked so that they couldn’t be seen from above at night. We all had to be vigilant and keep our windows covered with black-out material once the inside lights were switched on. One good thing was a new found unity amongst everyone. We all spoke to each other as never before even just to pass the time of day, and on the bus or in the railway carriage the conversation was non-stop. “Did you hear the sirens last night? Were you in the shelter and did you hear the ‘planes? They sounded like our fighters last night, they must have chased the enemy away, it didn’t last very long” or it might have been “We had a quiet night last night, they must have been somewhere else.”
One night will stay long in my memory. We were huddled in the shelter but a neighbour who was looking out from his upstairs window gave us all a running commentary. “There he is, the searchlights have got him. Listen to the guns, he’s trying to dodge out of the way, they’ve got him! They’ve got him! his arse is on fire”. At that we all scrambled out from the shelter to watch the plane coming down. A great cheer broke out. We thought the plane had come down about 500 yards away so my Dad and one of the men walked along the road hoping to see it, but they came back to say there was no sign. We heard next morning that it had crashed at Sunderland which was about 15 miles away. Another night I was awakened by the sound of the air raid warning so I picked up my precious new (fake) fur coat and headed for the landing. My mother called from her bedroom,” Where are you going?”. “To the shelter” I replied.
“You didn’t bother when the first two alarms sounded” she said. So I turned and snuggled back into bed. Another false alarm.
During this time I was working at a engineering company near the river and one day, when my two colleagues and I were working at our typewriters in front of a window there was a loud crash behind us and breaking glass shattered down beside us. We thought we were being attacked and jumped up and ran to shelter in a doorway. After investigation however it turned out to be the long steel chain hanging from an Anti-Aircraft balloon sited near our works. We used to pass the site on our way to and from work each day and chatted with the girls who manned it. That night on the way home we gently rebuked them for their carelessness in allowing the balloon escape its mooring.
Shortly after the sadness of Dunkirk my colleague and I decided to join up and to broach the subject with our parents that evening. My mother said that she would not stand in my way if that was what I wanted to do. My friend’s mother however was against the idea. She relied on her daughters salary as her husband had a poorly paid job. This did not stop me so I approached my boss. His reminded me that my occupation was reserved and I was helping the war effort by doing my job. Nevertheless I persuaded him and off I went to the recruiting office and joined the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force more usually known as the WAAF.
About six weeks later I stepped from the train many miles away from my native Tyneside. There were a few other lost-looking girls on the platform and we gathered together all trying to look enthusiastic about our new adventure. There was no-one there to meet us so we looked around and eventually found the Station Master who ushered us into the waiting room and told us he would make enquiries.
He was as good as his word and shortly afterwards transport arrived to take us to the camp.
I had never been further than the local coast on a day trip or a short holiday and I looked curiously out of the window to see what these strange places looked like. I was disappointed; it looked just the same as the streets of home. We had expected to be welcomed with open arms because we had come to do our bit, but we got a very casual welcome and ushered to a hut which was already occupied by other new recruits. We were each allocated a bed, blankets, a straw-filled pillow and three peculiar objects which we were told were to form a mattress. These were called ‘biscuits’ and were every bit as hard. We were also issued with a knife, fork spoon and mug. I slept fitfully, accompanied by a little sobbing around the hut.
Next morning I shot out of bed when the bugle sounded out. Someone said “Does this happen every morning?” (It did). Then a voice rang out “Hurry along girls, you have fifteen minutes to wash and dress and then I’ll show you how to stack your bedding”. We watched this performance of the biscuits in a pile at the top of the bed, blankets folded on top and then the pillow. “At this point you all must stand to attention by your beds for inspection, usually by the duty officer but this morning I’ll take it on. Then she shouted “Stand by your beds” What a performance I thought. “Now follow me to the Mess”. I turned to pick up my mug and irons (cutlery) but they were gone! One of the girls saw my dilemma and quickly picked up someone else’s offering them to me. I hesitated and she said “Do you want breakfast?” so I took them and followed her out. I should have known then that this was going to be one of those days. After breakfast we were all had to scramble on to an open truck to go to be “kitted out”. There were puzzled expressions until someone whispered “Uniforms” and every face brightened.
At first we were attended to by tailors and I thought “Made to measure?” but after being measured we were given a piece if paper with a different number on each side. Then the corporal said, “Now the first things you are being supplied with are shoes and you must make absolutely certain they are a good fit because they cannot be changed”. I have always had problems with shoes, they were always too wide, so by the time I was reasonably satisfied the rest of the girls had moved on and when I went to the to the next counter and was asked for my number I looked at the piece of paper and said, “five” whereupon the WAAF who was serving looked at her companion and raised her eyes to heaven. I hastily looked at the paper on the other side and quickly said “Twenty-five” and was given an article of clothing. So it went on as I dragged my kitbag along until I join the others.
That night in the hut was hilarious, we had a fashion parade. None of us had worn flat heeled, laced up shoes since schooldays and never wool stockings - and the balloon hats! Someone had told us how to deal with the hats so by morning, after damping the crown and laying flat we had them licked them into shape.
Four weeks later we could all form fours, about turn, quick march etc. and were then posted to different stations to be trained in new skills. I had asked to become a wireless- telegraphy operator and I took to that like a duck to water. At the end of the course I was invited to be an instructor to which I readily agreed and was promptly promoted to Corporal and posted to the wireless school at Blackpool. Part of the Winter Gardens had been taken over for this purpose. I and the WAAF I had travelled with worked alongside some Post Office civilian telegraphers as well as some RAF instructors teaching young men and women to become wireless operators. Each instructor sat at a long table with a class of about 16, all wearing headphones. Eventually they could all send and receive messages in Morse code. I enjoyed doing this work and I became good friends with the girl I had come with. Because we were corporals we had to take recruits marching and drilling along the promenade. This was a bit daunting when civilian girls on holiday stood watching and laughing at us. That apart I must admit that Blackpool was a good place to be. We were billeted in private boarding houses normally used by holiday-makers. Servicemen from America and Canada, as well as Britain, spending a few weeks debriefing after overseas service were also staying at this resort so we were never short of dance partners in the Tower Ballroom or the Winter Gardens. We only paid 9d (4.5p) for entry to both. There were also shows at the theatres where we got cheaper tickets. Today my husband laughingly describes that I fought the war in Blackpool ballrooms! To which I reply that we worked sixty hours per week and were entitled to play hard.
Anyone who knows Blackpool is aware of how strong the winds can be at times and one night a group of us were heading home after the theatre when my cap blew off. I scurried after it and eventually trapped it only to discover that another pair of hands had grabbed it too. A man’s voice said “It’s mine” “NO! NO! It’s mine” I said” whereupon he took a flashlight out of his pocket and shone it on the cap. I was horrified when I saw all the gold braid and hastily apologised. He just laughed and said “I’m afraid you will have to deal with the red tape tomorrow to get another cap.
We got seven days leave every three months and I well remember standing, crushed in the train for several hours but the Salvation Army ladies were always on the station platforms when the train stopped, handing out mugs or jam-jars of tea. One day all leave was cancelled and shortly after there was a whisper that troops were massing on the south coast. One morning the C.O. announced that we must not listen to or spread any rumour and we wondered which one he meant, was it about the troops on the south coast or that he was seen out with the WAAF officer. Not long after that came D.Day. so all spirits soared. We watched the newsreels avidly and listened to all broadcasts and just carried on. Some time later one or two instructors were posted to R.A.F.Stations, then a few more and we realised that the school was closing down. “That must mean we are winning the war” people were saying hopefully.
Eventually it was our turn to be posted but my friend Margery and I went to different Stations. We wept when we separated but to this day we have kept in touch. So I was heading south again, but now I was to do the work I had been teaching everyone else to do and I looked forward to doing that too. When we first arrived at this camp there was no room for us in the WAAF quarters so we were housed in a large house outside the camp gates. We did not like this but we soon discovered that it had its compensation. We could go out without question but we had to report in at night. There was however an empty coalhouse with a broken lock which we could climb in to reach the house.
Some nights we could hear the bombing of Coventry but it never came close to us. One day an American plane landed on the airfield with some kind of trouble and that night a dance was held to entertain the crew. They seemed to enjoy the evening, laughing and joking with everyone. Next morning the plane was gone.
The work of signals meant that day and night had to be covered and three of us at a time were on duty in the signal cabin and a Duty Officer in the next room. When things were quiet he used to join us for a chat. Now we were always hungry and if we heard the horn of the N.A.A.F.I. van we persuaded him to go out and buy us some fruit cake which was very satisfying, in fact it was so solid we called it ‘depth charge cake’. When the planes took off heading for enemy territory we had to listen to the signals from their wireless operator and acknowledge the call, similarly when they were heading home. It was always a relief when we heard the last one safely on his way home.
The most exciting news eventually came when VE DAY was announced. We all went crazy! That night we went out on the town (small village) and had a few drinks, and we even went out without wearing our caps!

--This story is continued in Part Two, VEDay to the end of the War.

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