大象传媒

My aunt Pam Basner, formerly Pam Low (n茅e Tucker) has written the following:

In 1939, when war seemed imminent, I was 18. I had left school and was living at home in Solihull, near Birmingham, and was fighting off parental ideas for my future 鈥� namely studying Domestic Science or taking a secretarial training.
There was an air of excitement among my age group as we tried to think what we could best do towards the war effort. My great friend Sue Bagshaw 鈥� who later became my sister-in-law 鈥� and I were attending First Aid classes run by the Red Cross, so we thought perhaps we should become VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment) nurses. We signed on and, arrayed in our uniforms, set off to do the obligatory 52 hours of training at Coventry Hospital. However, after one day of this we swiftly changed our minds and agreed we were not cut out to be nurses!
So what else could we do? We could both drive, so how about ambulance driving? Along with another good friend, Pat Jefferson, we contacted Solihull Air Raid Precaution ambulance section. All sorts of vehicles were used: cars to convey walking wounded and converted removal vans as ambulances. The final part of the training was tough. We had to wear full gas-protection kit 鈥� including gas mask 鈥� and drive a certain route at night. All vehicles鈥� headlights were reduced to slits in accordance with 鈥渂lackout鈥� regulations so our eyes were coming out on stalks as we peered through the gas masks onto a very dark street, trying to avoid any obstructions. Luckily we never had to do this in a real air raid!
We worked in shifts, and usually cycled to and from home. Petrol was rationed 鈥� coupons being limited and precious. Birmingham and Coventry got plenty of air raids, but Solihull was lucky, and we had little to do except to be constantly prepared.
One night in 1940 I was not on duty and was at home with my parents listening to an air raid on Birmingham, just 8 miles away. A telephone call told my father the horrifying news that his Electrical Accessories factory at Tyseley had been bombed. He got in the car at once and drove there to find that only the canteen was left. It was a shattering night for the family. My grandfather had founded the business in 1892 and my father was very proud of its success. I am happy to add that seven years later a new factory was opened 鈥� production having continued in the meantime in various places, as far away as Wales. It was a great reopening!
During that winter of 1940, I heard from an old school friend who knew that I was driving ambulances and suggested that I might prefer joining the FANYs. We were all a bit fed-up with having nothing to do; our boyfriends had all joined the Forces. So Pat, Sue and I decided on a change: Pat joined the WAAFs (Women鈥檚 Auxiliary Air Force), Sue joined the MTC (Motor Transport Corps) - and I joined the FANYs (First Aid Nursing Yeomanry).
The FANY had started before the First World War as a corps of women on horseback (hence the 鈥測eomanry鈥� of the title) delivering nursing services on the battlefield, but soon graduating to ambulance drivers and later also to some high-powered administrative jobs and secret intelligence work.
My section was to drive ambulances under the Red Cross for the Army. We bought our own uniform 鈥� very smart, officer-type. Our training was undertaken in Norfolk 鈥� two weeks at the lovely home of Lady Boileau at Ketteringham Park. After this, my first assignment was to join a group ferrying new ambulances disembarked at Liverpool from Canada and the USA. These we drove in convoy to London. They were left-hand-drive vehicles, which took a little getting used to, and we had to leave a space equivalent to the distance between two telegraph poles between one vehicle and the next. Owing to air raids in Liverpool and in London, the beginning and end of our journeys were sometimes a bit hazardous 鈥� but somehow we managed to deliver the vehicles safely. The Red Cross would then send them to the units that required them.
My next posting was, thankfully, out of London 鈥� to Southern Command. The Red Cross HQ was in Sherborne, Dorset. I joined a group in Honiton, Devon, where we lived and kept our vehicles at a large house on the edge of town. A cook was supplied and, if we fetched the rations, he fed us well. We even grew vegetables in the garden in our spare time. The Devon & Dorset Regiment and the Durham Light Infantry were encamped nearby and called on us when necessary to convey sick or injured soldiers to different hospitals: Basingstoke, Oxford or London. We had to look after the ambulances ourselves, keep them clean inside and out, and ready to be used. Some maintenance we carried out ourselves, but anything major, or any servicing, had to be done by RASC (Royal Army Service Corps) workshops.
My next posting was to Milborne Port, just outside Sherborne, doing similar work. We were asked out in the evenings quite often by officers stationed nearby. It was during this time that I met a certain Signals officer with Guards Armoured Division who 鈥� three years later 鈥� became my husband. However, in the meantime we both got posted in September 1941.
I was sent to Southampton as Corporal i/c the Unit! We were stationed in the grounds of the Royal Victoria Hospital, Netley 鈥� a very long, very Victorian building on the edge of the Solent. Our accommodation was in a row of what had been married quarters: bungalows, with two of us in each. We were kept quite busy to-ing and fro-ing with patients and keeping our ambulances in readiness. There were raids on Southampton now and then; during one we heard that the first ATS casualty had occurred 鈥� killed on an Anti-Aircraft site nearby. Two of us attended her funeral. Much of our social life was spent at The Bugle pub, Hamble 鈥� much frequented by the Navy, stationed across the river at HMS 鈥淭ormentor鈥�. In November 1941, I got leave to attend the wedding of my brother, John, as bridesmaid. He was in Royal Signals and doing some secret work, of which we never knew the details until 30 years after the war. [A4211731]
Some months later, in 1942, I was having trouble with varicose veins in my legs, and had to get leave to go home and spend a few days in a nursing home to receive treatment. During this stay, there was an air raid on Birmingham and all of us patients had to be moved down to the cellars. Quite a performance - but we survived!
It was now that I decided to leave the FANYs and join the ATS (Auxiliary Territorial Service), thinking it would be easy to simply transfer. However, as conscription for women had started by then I could not volunteer but had to go through the call-up process in Birmingham. This resulted in my being posted to Droitwich for one month鈥檚 basic Army training. We lived in a hotel that had been taken over and its bedrooms equipped with bunk beds. It proved quite a hectic four weeks, with lectures and parades. One of the most interesting aspects was that one met girls from all walks of life 鈥� unlike the FANYs, whose volunteers were recruited from mainly the middle and upper classes! Another bonus was that in the ATS we received 拢2 Army pay a week 鈥� the first money I had ever had of my own. (As volunteers, the FANYs were, of course, unpaid.)
At Droitwich we eventually got sorted into whatever jobs we seemed best qualified for. With my driving experience, I was posted to No 2 MTTC (Motor Transport Training Centre) in North Wales. Having been a FANY I was entitled to wear a shoulder flash that read 鈥淲omen鈥檚 Transport Service. FANY鈥�. There were several of us, and we were known as 鈥淔ANY-ATS鈥�. This gave us a slight advantage over other would-be drivers. After a few weeks鈥� training in driving various different vehicles, and also learning some mechanics, I was sent on a course in December 1942 to Camberley with the aim of becoming a Driver Instructor. It was quite hard work, but I passed and became a Lance Corporal! The highlight of the course was that we were invited to a dance at the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst, which caused great excitement and rounded off the course splendidly鈥�
On my return to North Wales I was now part of the teaching staff, and our accommodation was in the main building of the camp 鈥� a great improvement on the long huts with double bunks for 30 girls that I had been faced with on my first arrival! The instructors proved a good, friendly crowd and we had some good times. Every 10 weeks we had new recruits who thought they wanted to become drivers. We took them on specific routes and noted down their progress (or not 鈥� according to their aptitude). Within the first couple of lessons it was apparent that some girls would never make drivers; others responded well and went on to complete the course. The final exam for them was to drive in Chester, and then on convoy through the hilly areas of North Wales.
As being a Driver Instructor was considered quite stressful, with all the responsibility of avoiding accidents while a trainee was learning, we were not kept in the job for longer than nine months. So, in September 1943, I was posted (as a Driver, once again) to Chester, Newcastle-under-Lyme, Burton-on-Trent and, finally, Lichfield. At these Army detachments there were varied types of vehicles to drive, from PUs (Personal Utilities, like a pick-up truck), through staff cars to ambulances. I eventually landed a lovely job at Lichfield as driver to the District Commander, Colonel Hopkins, in a Humber Super Snipe.
I had of course had various 鈥渓eaves鈥� during this time, being able to meet up again 鈥� in London or at home - with the Signals officer I had met in Dorset. Walter Low and I became engaged in December 1943.
The war situation was seriously gearing up towards an invasion of Europe. There were constant convoys of Army vehicles and troops rumbling through Lichfield on their way South. The spring of 1944 was very busy, indicating that something big was soon to happen. I continued driving my Colonel on various journeys in the Midlands, taking several short leaves to prepare for my wedding. Walter had decided to transfer from Royal Signals to REME (Royal Electrical & Mechanical Engineers), which would give him more experience with mechanical engineering 鈥� the subject he had studied at university and which was to be his future career after the war.
Then came the wonderful excitement of D-Day on June 6, 1944, giving us all the feeling that this might be the beginning of the end of the war. A month later came my wedding 鈥� a wonderful day, marred only by the fact that my brother could not be present as he had been sent to the Far East [A4211759]. We managed to enjoy a week鈥檚 honeymoon in the Lake District, after which we both returned to our units. Later in the year Walter was sent to the Middle East.
I was moved again, to Leamington Spa 鈥� which was nearer to home for me. During 1945 my parents were not well and were finding it difficult to cope with little or no help in the house. The ATS were very considerate, and allowed me quite a bit of time to visit them. Even better, they managed to get me a posting to a Command Supply Depot in Solihull, which meant I could do my driving work during the daytime and sleep at home at night.
May 1945 saw the defeat of Germany. VE Day was full of celebrations: no more bombing; no more casualties. BUT there was still fighting in the Far East against Japan. Mercifully, even though there was the horror of two atomic bombs, this also came to an end in August 鈥� VJ Day.
In November, I was demobilised and returned home a civilian, to await the return of both my husband and my brother. This did not happen until April 1946 for Walter and a month later for John. We were so thankful, as a family, that they both returned safely.
I then moved to Glasgow with Walter to begin our married life, and for him to complete his university studies. His two brothers were also safe. Malcolm, who had been in the Black Watch, had been badly wounded in North Africa; Angus, the younger, who had been a glider pilot at Arnhem, had been taken prisoner but had escaped.

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