Navy Rum and Brown Sauce Part 4

Attached to the gunners was a young American whose name was Howard Hermansen, and his home was in Winsconsin. When America came into the war he volunteered for the army — he was not a regular soldier — and, like thousands, was sent abroad. At the time I met him, in 1943 there had not been any American forces in the locality and my friends and I were rather intrigued with this young man, especially as time went by and no other Americans turned up. Of course we had all heard that the “Yanks” had great supplies of silk stockings and toiletries which were no longer easily available in the U.K. and we yearned for these luxuries. Howard though did not have these “goodies” but more than made up for the lack of them by his charming and impeccable manners. In his uniform as a newly commissioned Lieutenant he looked as though he had stepped out of a bandbox — he was always so well groomed. He was in Brighton for only a short while and although we went out together several times I never heard from him after he left. Life was like that.

If it seemed that our off duty hours were just one long round of parties, dances and having fun, well there wasn’t much else on offer. Almost everyone was lonely for one reason or another and even when the tide turned in the Allies favour and battles were won, war time news was not always good. Nor were all the “outings” good ones — far from it. But one really wonderful party suddenly turned up in early May 1943.

I was about to walk out of the main gate one evening when the sentry called me over to his hut where there was a telephone message awaiting me. It was from wren Decima Rothwell, the sister of Talbot Rothwell the playwright and scriptwriter. She told me that we had been invited to an evening dress dance and that we were to be accompanied by “blind dates”! The whole thing was the most marvellous evening, held at the RAF Fighter Command base at Tortington Park near Tangmere. Tortington had been a high class girls' school which had been evacuated and taken over by the RAF. The grounds were extensive and beautiful and had been well maintained. The weather was fine and warm and luckily there were no raids. The party started around 9.00 p.m. and finished more or less at 3.00 a.m. The Duke and Duchess of Norfolk attended. The food was good, there was plenty to drink, I tasted iced coffee for the first time and we danced to an excellent RAF band. We were transported there and back by an Army Staff car and I arrived home with just enough time to change, bath, put on my uniform and get back to work tired but happy.

Decima’s date was a charming Colonel and mine a Canadian Flying Officer whose name was Mac. He had been wounded and invalided out of Fighter Command and was temporarily based at Shoreham Airport from where he flew a plane towing a sleeve for shooting practice. He was great fun, tall and good looking, and as blind dates went these two could not have been bettered. I don’t know if Decima every saw her Colonel again and, as was the usual thing in war time, Mac left for destinations unknown a few weeks after we had exchanged presents. He gave me a silk spotted handkerchief and I gave him a scarf. I did not hear from him after he left. Ships that pass in the night.

We played hard but we worked hard too, so leisure time was always precious. We could wear civvies and let our hair down - literally -as in uniform hair had to be tied up ½ inch above the collar. This was very stiff and often made my neck sore. Sometimes we would go walking in the country and one Sunday three of us from Vernon, Sheila Burnett, Norman Pelley and I took the No 27 green Southdown bus out to the crossroads near Wiston. One road led south and became a lane up to Chanctonbury Ring, high up on the crest of the Downs. All this still exists and at that time the Ring was full and round and very magical - or so it appeared to me. We walked up to the Ring and stayed awhile looking over the lovely Sussex Weald which seemed to be another world, it was so peaceful, and we so longed for the war to end and peace to come.

We were deep in thought as we made our way down the hill and then we saw what I think we needed to see, the little Church of All Saints at Buncton. It was time for Evensong and so we entered the church as the Service was about to start. The Priest and his very small congregation welcomed us and Norman, who was in uniform, was asked to take the Plate round. He was a leading Seaman and had served on one of the battleships that Churchill sailed on at his meetings with Roosevelt. In the light evening - there was double summer time during the war - we made our way back to Steyning along the deserted country road. Norman and Sheila, who were engaged, walked a few paces ahead of me. We sang a few songs, picked a few black-berries growing at the side of the road, and fooled around laughing a lot. It was when we started to sing the hymn "The Day Thou Gavest Lord is Ended" that I began to feel terribly lonely. So many of my friends had gone away, some had been killed and another made prisoner of war, and I was glad when we got home.

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