大象传媒

I am submitting this story on behalf of my friend, Jean Carson. Jean is aware of the 大象传媒's Rights and Responsibilities Policy and has agreed to her story being submitted under them.

Jean鈥檚 view of the Second World War at this remove is that it was the best of times and the worst of times. The worst times were those of: personal bereavement, the blackout, the shortages and the sheer dreariness surrounding one. The best times were those of: friendships formed 鈥� some remaining true to this day, romances and eventually marriage, enjoyable leaves and dancing. Jean had the pleasure of dancing to Glen Miller on one occasion.

At the outbreak of war Jean was a lowly civil servant, working for the Air Ministry in the Aeronautical Inspection Directorate. She was in a reserved occupation (鈥渉eaven knows why鈥�) in an office located in the Castle Bromwich factory where the famous Spitfire Mark V was built. The area was surrounded by the Dunlop Tyre factory and Castle Bromwich aerodrome where the Spitfires were tested and Fleet Air Arm trainee pilots flew their little Tiger Moths. This was a prime target for the Luftwaffe. When there was a bombers鈥� moon: full moon and clear skies, huge canisters of oil were set alight to disguise the area. The resultant dense oily smoke coated anyone unfortunate to be in the area and on more than one occasion Jean鈥檚 order of priorities on reaching home was to wash her hair, have a meal and then head for the shelter. Fortunately, bombers鈥� moons were not too frequent.

Jean was anxious to become a Waaf and eventually her wish was granted. (Her mother鈥檚 fears revolved around the thoughts of her daughter being ravished or 鈥攑erhaps even worse- falling for a Yank and disappearing into the wide blue yonder. Her fears were groundless: Jean鈥檚 honour remained unsullied.) Jean鈥檚 initial interview was conducted by a fearsome Waaf officer who demanded to know whether Jean had 鈥渉igher physics.鈥� When Jean replied in the negative she was told that she could not become a radio operator, instead she would be assigned to special clerical duties. Firstly, however, 鈥渒itting out鈥� which saw Jean posted to Bridgnorth. Jean was given a kitbag to hold all her worldly possessions, which included the infamous elasticated bloomers. The top brass 鈥� all men of course 鈥� had quite overlooked the fact that men鈥檚 and women鈥檚 hygiene requirements are quite at variance, particularly where the lunar cycle is concerned. A saviour in the shape of Lord Nuffield ensured that each month the girls were supplied with the necessary packet. These packets became known as Nuffield鈥檚 Bounty. Another of Jean鈥檚 abiding memories is that of a good-looking girl , with long tresses of auburn hair who appeared one day shorn of her crowning glory. When Jean asked her why, she received the disdainful reply: 鈥淣its, of course.鈥� Jean had no idea what she meant, but she was learning fast. The next posting was to Morecambe for weeks of 鈥渟quare-bashing.鈥�

Eventually, after undergoing a series of psychological tests, Jean and a few others were posted to Leighton Buzzard, where they were taken to a lovely old mansion with a number of camouflaged huts attached. Here, the real training began with a stern lecture on the utmost necessity of keeping all activities absolute secret. Jean was about to become a radar operator. The ops. room was a replica of the real thing, just as you have no doubt seen on film and tv. There were three cabins, each of which had a full view of the plotting table. In cabin 1, sat 4 Waafs. One sat at the controller鈥檚 telephone, one at the radar screen, one at the height-finder and one at the navigating board. The other cabins were occupied by officers. Training was intense, but lightened by the Flight Sergeant鈥檚 North Country accent which gave rise to occasional misunderstandings. Jean and her colleagues passed the course and were awarded the appropriate 鈥渢apes.鈥�

Jean and 4 others were posted to Durrington, near Worthing. They were now part of No. 11 Group, controlling aircraft from Ford and sometimes from Tangmere. When planes took off they contacted the ground by their call sign. The aircraft showed on the screen as a tiny blip, about the size of a grain of rice. The controller would say to the aircraft: 鈥淢ake your cockerel crow.鈥� The pilot would respond by pressing a switch which showed on the screen like a cock鈥檚 tail. This was the confirmation ground control required for recognition. Calculating the height of aircraft was a skilful task. If one of our fighters was in combat and the height of the enemy was miscalculated, the consequences for the fighter pilot could be quite literally fatal. Nowadays, Jean thinks that her youth protected her against the pressure of her work. She says: 鈥淲e were just youngsters and blithely went on duty day or night. When off duty we went out walking on the Downs or went dancing. Various boffins visited Jean鈥檚 Ground Control Interception Station (GCI), but more interesting were the visits by some of Fighter Command鈥檚 Aces: "Cat鈥檚 Eyes" Cunningham and Johnny Johnson who wanted to see the action at the other end. Other events Jean recalls from the GCI were messages from Lysander pilots saying that they would have their bacon and eggs. This was code for their having made a successful drop or pick-up of agents on SOE missions.

Worthing was a lively place, full of Canadians from the North Nova Scotia Regiment who would parade along the High St., pipes skirling, kilts swinging, to general excitement. Then catastrophe, the town became eerily quiet; Jean thought the 2nd Front had been launched. In fact, the Canadians had taken part in the disastrous raid on Dieppe (1942). For Jean and her colleagues this was the worst time of the war. Everyone knew someone who had been killed or badly wounded. The survivors returned, a wretched lot, no kilts or drum beats, but men in hospital blue, some with limbs missing.

Ever since, Nova Scotia has retained a special place in Jean鈥檚 heart. In 1978 her son emigrated to Nova Scotia with his wife and Jean now has 2 Nova Scotian grandchildren. Nova Scotia is her second home.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.