大象传媒

Having acquired permission from my employer to enlist in the ATS, my first posting was to Guildford before a board of Officers for acceptance. I passed without further question, other than to choose from becoming a driver or enter the artillery section. I chose to be Driver Trice 110416 - a very proud moment but a bit of a shock after being led to a hut with rows of beds to find we were confined to barracks until further notice. Lining up next morning to get our kit one by one was amusing, but laughing was not permitted. Knife, fork, spoon and mug were collected before the march to the cook house. Now the real training was to begin. They called it square bashing, all to do with marching and salute arms - this went on every day. The sergeant major expected everyone to be perfect. Once we became proficient it was quite enjoyable. We soon became used to taking orders, saluting every officer that passed you. The most enjoyable was marching behind the army's brass band, which happened most Sundays going to Church.

After we had learned everything we should know about army life, it was time to find out what was underneath the bonnet. We were posted to Hereford. It was like going back to school. During the next six weeks we learned about cam shafts,carburettors, rotary arms and had not yet sat behind a steering wheel. We had to pass a test on everything we had been taught. The driving test was much the same as we take today, including holding your vehicle on a very steep hill without using the hand brake. After passing the driving test it was back to the parade ground for reversing instruction, using a long row of oil drums and zig-zagging through. It wasn't easy, but was fun for me to hear the language from other drivers. We shared some very happy times together.

Next was gas mask practice. Girls trying to get them over their curlers was also amusing. The hut with the gas on seemed forever, but we were through and out the other end in a few seconds, but it seemed longer.

As far as I can remember there was just one more action to go through, that was rifle training. This I think was the nearest exercise that should have been for men only. Quite embarrassing to have a brute of a male pulling your feet apart whilst lying flat on your stomach with a heavy gun embedded in your shoulder, which gave you quite a jolt when you pulled the trigger.

We were now fully trained drivers, with enough knowledge, and capable of changing a lorry tyre, and repairing other faults. If repair was not possible we could tow it to its destination, not being allowed to leave any vehicle unattended at the roadside.

We were next posted to Chillwell in Nottingham for a short time and from there we were given a transport ticket to a very large house all set up to serve teas to all the girls who were to be given a posting. Unfortunately my friend Joyce and I missed the lorry and had to walk with kit bags on our back for 3 miles, arriving too late for tea. And so we came to Charlbury, a small village a few miles from Whitney in Oxford. We lived in a house called Lea Place. The army had taken over the servants quarters, where Joyce and I shared a room. The rest of the squad were housed around the village in private digs. I cant remember how many girls in all, but I have a photo of the group taken in front of the house.

Each morning we would march as O Troop to the park, it was heavily carpeted by trees, a perfect camouflage for the vehicles. We ran lots of convoys and each driver was made responsible for the preparation of the truck. The troop carrier was the worst as it was so high to climb up the face with a heavy can of water, especially in winter with snow on the ground and very cold hands. Another cold journey was the armoured car - two girls to each, one to drive, the other as lookout. The driver had a very small slot for vision and relied very much on her lookout for instruction. All journeys were followed through map reading, although it was only the NCO that knew our exact destination. Only once did I duck out of what was asked of me, that was to drive an amphibious jeep off the side of a quay into a deep fast flowing river to test the floating ability and continue to drive once in the river! Fortunately there was a volunteer.
The years to follow were much the same procedure, but to be there in the action was very pleasing. We were all happy together, the comradeship was something that is somehow missing in Civvy Street. Looking back, I know it was the right decison to enlist.

On one convoy, we drove to and fro all through the night to what appeared to be an airfield alive with huge aircraft each with a glider attached. This meant very little to us until daylight broke, when all became clear. The sky was filled with planes with gliders, we had been loading those planes with equipment for the invasion of France.

My final convoy was Reading where we were caught up in the middle of the town surrounded by people. The news had just broken that the war was over and everyone was in the street singing and dancing and hugging each other. Strangers were all sharing the relief they felt with the joy of VE Day. Hundreds of Union Jacks were flying. Our final job was to clear all the worn out or badly disabled trucks, some could be driven, some were towed away.

Just one sad sight I would mention before I close was seeing Coventry Cathedral after a night of heavy bombing, it was severely damaged and on fire. We arrived there some hours after the raid.

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