What Did You Do In The War, Grandma?

At the age of 17 in September 1941, I started work at Hamble A.S.T. (Air Service Training). Previously, this was a training centre for pilots from all over the world, but now had three large hangars for repairing crashed Spitfires.

The ‘Kites’ as we called them, were delivered on R.A.F. long trailers — nicknamed ‘Queen Marys’, with the wings stacked on each side. The wings were taken to ‘A’ Hangar to be repaired and the fuselages were cleaned inside and out with paraffin. Some were really bad with blood from the injured pilots. The worse were from Polish squadrons, who, knowing what had happened to their country, fought without regard for their lives.

One day when we were lifting an engine, a revolver was found jammed underneath. The Polish pilot had taken it with him, to kill himself, if he was shot down over enemy territory, rather than be taken prisoner.

The fuselages were put into a jig and stripped to the frame. Some areas were peppered with bullet holes, but a new skin of aluminium was riveted on by fitters with us girls as mates. The fitters were mostly from London Transport bus depots, who used to go home at the weekends as the air raids were still on in London. Having got the fuselage OK, the tail was put on (my job — laying inside with my head on the tail wheel housing!) and then the control column (my job).

When the wings were on and the wheels down, a new engine from Rolls Royce was lowered onto the engine frame. Fitters installed the glycol and petrol lines; also the electrical systems and propeller were carefully connected, At first a 3-blade prop, then 4, then the contra-rotating 6 which didn’t last long, as I don’t think they were a success.

Douglas Bader came one day and flew one of our spitfires back to base. In all, I believe over 5,000 Spitfires were repaired. Piecework was brought in and each job given an allotted time, with day and night shifts. The longest I worked was 60 hours per week but still had the energy to go to the Netley British Legion Hall for a dance on Saturday night or Hamble for the Hamble Hop on Wednesday.

At the end of the war, I saw the Queen Mary sail up Southampton Water for the first time since hostilities began, and will never forget the ships hooters all sounding to welcome her.

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