Four Years In A Lifetime A Lifetime In Four Years Chapter 8

Chapter 8
I’ve lost the thread completely now I have no clear idea what happened next.
Up to this time I had no real interest in close relationships the world seemed such a fragile place so many people were dead and still to die. I did not want to love and be loved by someone, so I had friends and light relationships, nothing involved or demanding. Taking the crews to their planes and never seeing them again was an all too familiar pattern. I grieved for them we drank to them and accepted that this was going to recur time and time again. I spent all my longer leaves at home and never spoke about my other life in any great detail; they knew enough of what was happening and worried about me.
I think maturity began its process and I’d always found friendships with boys easy, so now I could make friends and keep it just that. One was an R.A.F Regiment Sergeant, mature well a good bit older than me, we went for bikes rides into the countryside and talked about everything. He had a wife and a child I don’t know where now or even his name although I think it was Jim, it was like having an older brother. There were others but mostly groups male and female, usually the females would sally forth to a local pub and there were always groups we knew, sometimes aircrew sometimes ground crew, romance did flourish but usually briefly. I met one South African from Bulawayo in then Rhodesia; he was different, aircrew, charming mostly. He did propose and I did say yes but I had no intention or marrying anyone until this was over. It ended when he was killed of course. I flirted, sang, danced but was never really tempted. There were others, naturally, but the blackout, they way that we lived, the uncertainty got in the way. My South African paramour and his crew failed to return from their last Op.

Life was an every changing black and white film, it was intense, sometimes funny, extremely busy and by now routine. On leave I had to wear uniform, often civy clothes needed coupons, these were found and clothes made for me but unless we were visiting or going to town I’d just wear anything I could find around the house. I’d take my ciggy ration home for my Dad and anything I could find or acquire in the way of food stuffs for my Mum. I’d dig in the garden with my Dad, walk a lot usually with Mum and my dog and wait for my leave to end. I sometimes got out to a dance but it was not the same. At these times I felt I was living two different lives.
Sometime around this period Dad’s health took a downward turn with a valvular heart problem and I requested and was granted a compassionate posting to a base nearer home and it was Full Sutton 77th Squadron Group 4 Bomber command. Every operational Squadron is very much the same as regards the working day so it does not take very long to settle in. The routine was established quickly. The tempo of the bombing seemed to increase, there seemed to be Op’s nights most of the week, weather of course permitting, consequently there were more losses and more heartache and my part a resistance to getting close to any one person. Mostly free time was spent in York or the local pub and N.A.A.F.I in groups. Never the less it became clear I was not going to escape romance, during this time I met future husband F.O Vic Brown, skipper of D Dog. I got to know the crew pretty well, A) driving them B) in the local pub. The crew were Sgt John Quarry — Navigator Sgt George Smoothie — Bomb Aimer Pop Jenkins — (Australian) Radio Op Alex Bouvet — Gunner Johnnie Smith — Gunner and Tommy who joined them much later who I think was the engineer. I saw them all, (they all hunted in the same pack) both off duty and on. Off duty there was a pub in the village I cannot remember the name, it was in Stamford Bridge? It was a regular meeting place for all the squadron, the toilet was a nightmare, you stumbled down a path to it (no lights) there was a wooden seat with a hole in it, and it was very near a water course. You really had to be desperate to use it. D Dog crew were a friendly cheerful bunch and gradually I became one of their gang until they realised that Vic and I were sort of gravitating to each other, that one created a little sniping and George warned me off, wrong move, he did not know me very well.
We all contrived to meet but now I took extra care to talk to the rest of the crew as individuals and Vic and I met separately. It worked to a point but George continued his campaign I realised it wasn’t just a dislike of me but the fact that the crew were now splitting up for social excursions and he felt more secure if the bond between them wasn’t broken. It was important together they were strong. Vic and I went back to meeting only when the crew were there, except for when we could arrange 24 — 48 hr passes and then we would meet in York and get out into the country villages.
The war went on around us we did not make any long term plans how could we it seemed it would never end, in fact things seemed to be getting busier, there was routine now to ponder about the future, the future was tomorrow and no further. This was no time to fall in love, they were in the middle of a tour, and I was trying to stay the same when there was chaos all around and empting into my life. The barriers I’d placed carefully around my emotions were being penetrated. I losing that battle, I’d already seem too much, too many young men fly off into the night never to return and like everyone else I’d wept for them.
Life seemed like a roller coaster, Op nights were tense and utterly draining, anxiety and relief walked hand in hand. We would meet at the pub laugh and joke with the crew and then slip away, time alone was hard to get. Op nights I’d continue my routine taking the crews out to their dispersal area and so on. When the planes returned I always had a flask — oxo, coffee, tea and 7 cups at the ready. Collect them from the dispersal area and take them to debriefing and listen to see if, usually, which planes had not returned.

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