Navy Rum and Brown Sauce Part 5

FUN GAMES AND LIVING

During the war we “lived” as much as we could. These were very emotional times and Life was either good or bad and there did not seem to be a middle way. Of course this was the same for the civilian population. Living at home as I did and working in a Naval Establishment afforded me an insight into the differences that existed. Although not plentiful there was no lack of food in the Navy and sometimes we could “obtain” luxuries such as tea and sugar, chocolates and biscuits, films for our Box Brownie cameras — all strictly rationed “outside”. In our office at work we had fuel for the fire but at home we put empty tins on our fires to help make heat, we carefully sieved coal dust and mixed it with cement to make “coals”, and we filled empty screw topped bottles with hot water to heat our beds. Indeed, civilians improvised.

However there was one thing in plentiful supply for people living and stationed in the U.K. during the war — entertainment. One organisation was the Officers’ Sunday Club Tea Dances. This was a nation-wide club and the local branch activities were held at the Norfolk Hotel in Brighton. Local girls were invited to become hostesses and help to entertain visiting officers. The club was extremely well run and women, other than commissioned officers, could come only if accompanied by an officer, unless they were hostesses. The wearing of uniform by guests was obligatory. On the whole the afternoons were very enjoyable and frequently people stayed on for the evening Dinner. The Sunday Club was known locally as the “Marriage Mart” and certainly many happy relationships blossomed from these afternoons.

The Norfolk Hotel boasted a resident band — Joe Kaye and his Music. The band employed two vocalists, one blonde and the other brunette and the hotel ran popular dinner dances every night except Sunday. The hotel barman was known as Slash Eye Charlie and his looks fitted the part very well. He was tall with black hair and swarthy complexion, a slick black moustache and dark brown eyes. The Dudley Hotel, another of the few to open to the public was the venue for most of the wedding feasts and was visited by the Queen, then Princess Elizabeth, when she lunched there with officers of the Grenadier Guards in 1944.

There were several dance halls, the Regent which had a particularly well sprung floor so that when there was vigorous dancing the floor moved and the noise of the dancers could be heard in the cinema below. The Dome and the Corn Exchange were both used for dances and of course Sherry’s in West Street which had always been a regular feature in Brighton. Music in Sherry’s was provided by Al Feld and His Music. Many years later Mr. Feld became Mayor of Brighton.

As well as the big dance halls there were clubs where we could drink and dance. Two were very popular, The Chalet Club in Western Road which previously had been a gymnasium and Rector’s Club on Kingsway. Wherever there was dancing there was live music. Cinemas and theatres flourished and there were plenty of restaurants open. These were restricted to charging 5/- for a two course meal but they could charge extra for bread and tea and coffee. We met friends at the Clock Tower — it was a good landmark — and from there frequently went to Langford’s Restaurant in Western Road where a favourite snack was Baked Beans on Toast. Langford’s was decorated both inside and out to resemble a castle with lots of nooks and crannies, very useful for couples who wanted to kiss and cuddle. Nice things were hard to come by, new clothing was rationed but there was a Black Market in clothing coupons and in 1943/44 the going rate was 1/6 per coupon. A much sought after make of shoe was the Joyce brand. They came in various colours and I had a pair of black ones with suede on top and leather covered wedge heel. They were my ‘best ‘shoes and they lasted for nearly four years. Towards the end of the war wooden shoes made an appearance. They consisted of two lumps of wood hinged together for the sole with cloth or leather for the upper and they were very uncomfortable. We yearned for glamour and a pair of silk stockings was the pinnacle but they were in very short supply. Anything pretty or glamorous was difficult to obtain including make up. When news got around that a stock had arrived in one of the stores we queued for lipstick and powder. We made belts from cellophane paper and sewed ribbon on each end to fasten them with. We had very little jewellery and we treasured the Army badges that boy friends gave us. Many wrens like myself pinned cap badges onto sailors’ belts that were part of our uniform and we wore them with pride.

A nurse friend sewed military badges and arm flashes onto the red lining of her cloak. It has become a very valuable article as so many regiments have either been disbanded or amalgamated. Everything was utilitarian, even handkerchiefs were marked with the CC41 sign as was all household linen, indicating that the articles so marked were produced to the Government’s Utility specification.

Entertaining at home required a certain amount of preparation insomuch that most ingredients had to be saved up and friends able to contribute helped enormously. But sometimes my mother cooked what we called our special dinner. This was either stuffed pumpkin or marrow both of which she grew in the garden. She made the stuffing with a tin of stew and vegetables and placed whole tomatoes round the pumpkin — which was the favourite as it looked wonderful — and the whole was then baked in the oven and served with a white sauce flavoured with a little cheese. We were lucky to have apple trees in the garden which provided most of our desserts.

PROMOTION

In 1944 I was promoted to Leading Wren and as such had to be drafted to another Shore Establishment, HMS Lizard, a Combined Operations Ship based in Hove and Shoreham.

Prior to joining Lizard I was sent to HMS King Alfred for a couple of weeks. King Alfred was the name given to the newly built sports centre and, at the outbreak of war it had been taken over to train R.N.V.R. Personnel. While I was there I had yet another of the many boils that I suffered from during the war and was sent to Sick Bay for treatment. The 'treatment" consisted of being given an enamel bowl filled with very hot water and a sort of washing up mop on the end of a stick. With this piece of equipment I had to bathe the boil to make it burst. I was, to put it mildly, surprised when I found the letters "V.D." printed on the underside of the bowl.

HMS Lizard occupied most of the large mansions in Grand Avenue. The Naval Stores were in the house on the south west corner, bordering onto Kingsway as was the Paymaster Lieutenant's office. The sick Bay was located in one of the large red bricked houses on the North East side of the Avenue. These houses have resisted change - at any rate externally. Sailors' billets were in the Princes Hotel which had closed and been requisitioned for the duration of the war. The few residents still living in the area were allowed to stay but they had to show their Identity Cards each time they left or entered the area to the armed sentries who were posted at each end of the Avenue.

After a few weeks I was sent to Shoreham. I was given bell bottom trousers to wear as they were more suitable than skirts for working in the large sheds at the edge of the harbour where the Naval Stores stockrooms and offices were. I was instructed on how my bell bottoms should be folded and pressed for maximum smartness. I had to turn them inside out and fold the legs separately “concertina fashion”, and then place the bundle under my mattress overnight. I remember walking down our road to join the transport to Shoreham dressed “Ship shape and Bristol fashion” early one morning, when an unseen voice from the direction of one of the many military vehicles parked nearby called out “ there goes the Admiral God bless her”. This rather touching “blessing” was so different from the usual wolf whistles we became accustomed to and I wished my anonymous friend ‘God Speed’ as I continued on my way. Bell-bottoms were not only fun to wear but also practical for working in the sheds — still in existence today — which were cold and draughty. Here we did not have field mice but land and water rats. At low tide the harbour smelt of a foul mixture of dirty mud and oil and it wasn’t much better at high tide. This was to be expected as the harbour was full of Military and Naval craft including Landing Craft. Generally the atmosphere was one of action with a great deal of coming and going.

We were transported to Shoreham by requisitioned bus and sometimes by a Naval lorry which picked up staff at various points along the South Coast road early in the morning and returned everyone to Grand Avenue in the evening. My colleagues at Lizard were a good crowd but I was not very happy there and the Stores Stock control was hopeless. Having worked at Vernon where there was some efficiency I was frustrated by the almost sloppy attitude to the job shown by a number of staff. Perhaps part of the problem was that many of us were feeling the strain of waiting and expecting an invasion of Europe to take place - certainly all the omens were pointing to an explosion of some kind, especially as a new regulation regarding travel came into force early in 1944. This was a ten mile restriction order and applied to most of the South Coast. No one could leave or enter without a pass and there were check points at the railway stations and at all roads leading into the area operated mainly by the Army. There was a lot of Military equipment, guns, tanks, and armoured cars in all the roads. Hove was bursting with troops including one of the special Commando units No.6 Commando. As the days went by anticipation rose to fever pitch, it was quite extraordinary.

Suddenly, in May 1944, the roads were deserted and the harbour emptied of craft. Overnight thousands of men and a great mass of equipment left and went into camp near the New Forest to await their part in the great invasion that was to take place. We heard the news of the invasion of France just after 10 in the morning of Tuesday 6th June. The feeling amongst us was one of anxiety, and fear - even though this was the event we had all been working for. Bit by bit news filtered through and it was certain that the invasion had been successful, although at very great cost to life. Many of our friends were killed especially during the first days of battle.
At the end of July 1944 my life as a wren came to a close. I had married an officer from
6 Commando and was pregnant with my daughter. I was relieved of my duties on what was rather amusingly termed "compassionate grounds"! I still have part of my uniform including my cap with the silver threepenny piece tied in the bow of the ribbon which is printed
HMS VERNON. And I am proud of it.

The Commando returned to Hove in the late summer of 1944 to regroup and train for their next tour of duty which was expected to be in the Far East. However, later that year the Germans launched a successful attack in the Ardennes and the Commando left for Europe in mid January 1945 where the battles were fought in bitter weather and terrible conditions.

The attack with Atomic bombs on Japan shortened the war, and resulted in the Battle of the Ardennes and the subsequent defeat of Germany being the last tour of duty for 6 Commando. Their last action was the crossing of the river Elbe. In November the Commando units were disbanded except for 45 Royal Marine Commando. To this day they alone retain the tradition and honour of the Green Beret. Men returned to their own regiments - Commando units were formed from men of all regiments who volunteered to join this elite group - or were demobbed.

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