大象传媒

This story has been written onto the 大象传媒 People's War Site by CSV Storygatherer Linda Finlay on behalf of Peggy West. The story has been added to the site with her permission. And Peggy West fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

England was at war with Germany and so after my nineteenth birthday, I was conscripted into the ATS. A letter arrived and enclosed was a railway warrant, I was to report to Honiton, Devon, Railway Station at 11.00 hrs in two weeks time. I had always lived in London with my parents and worked in an office in the City and had never lived away from home, so Devon seemed to me to be very remote and far away. We were told to bring only a dressing gown and a suitcase and no other civilian clothes were allowed apart from what we were wearing.

I was apprehensive but was very willing to help in the war effort in any way. I had no choice so duly reported to Devon. The station platform was full of young women. We were all smarly dressed, after all, we were starting a new career and wanted to create a good impression. The fashion in 1940 was smart suits or pretty dresses with padded shoulders and we wore gloves, even in the summer, it was short white gloves. some really stylish looking people wore dinky hats jaunitly tilted over one eye. We stood there looking at each other shyly when two soldiers appeared and bawled 'Outside'. We obeyed nervously and there waiting for us were a line of huge Army lorries. 'Get in, get in' was the next yelled instruction and we scrambled up (in our high heel shoes laddering our silk stockings. No nylon in those days, and sat in rows facing each other on hard wooden forms. the journey through the country lanes seemed endless but we eventually arrived at the Army Camp, and as we fell out still clutching our suitcases, I noticed there were soldiers with rifles guarding the huge gates. Were they there to stop us getting out I wondered, but now, of course, I ralise they were there to stop the enemy getting in.

This was a Training Camp and we were to be turned into smart soldiers. We were there for six weeks, we had no leave or days off, it was very hard work. We felt bewildered and very home sick. We lived in army huts and the camp had a vast square parade ground, where we drilled and marched all day and every day regardless of the weather. With a solder bawling 'Left, right, left, right. we marched backwards and forwards. 'About turn' etc until we could obey without hesitation, and even knew our left from our right. Eventually, in spite of blisters on our feet we became a smart efficient squad and felt quite proud of ourselves. Other days, we had what I think, was called fatigues, and we were issued with a bucket and mop and marched off (yes marched off) to clean the latrines (toilets) or maybe marched off to clean all the windows of the many huts, or to scrub the floors and tables in the canteen or of course, to spend the day in the cookhouse peeling massive mounds of potatoes. We were not allowed to walk anwhere (or talk) we marched in a squas, even to the ablutions first thing in the morning to wash. No showering allowed, we were marched thered later in the week. I think this lack of privacy was one of the most difficult things to accept, there were a lot of young women from all walks of life living together in a hut and we were a very mixed bunch. There were two very well spoken dainty 'yong ladies', a bank clerk, two shop assistant, and among others was a young woman from Grimsby who proudly announced she was a fishwife. Her language was very crude and we were easily shocked as in those days people generally did not swear - certainly not women. At home even 'damn' was frowned upon. however, we all helped each other and pulled together and worked hard to become an efficient squad, and we somehow survived.

Eventually, it was time to leave and we were posted to Army camps all over England. We marched smartly in a neat squad towards the huge gates and waiting for us were the large Army lorries. now we were well and truly trained and fit and, with alacrity, jumped aboard clutching our suitcases which now contained the civilian clothes we were wearing when we arrived. We were also carrying large canvas kit bags filled with Army clothes and kit. We were wearing thick khaki serge uniforms, with bright brass buttons all over, and brass badges and brass buckles on our belts (they all had to be cleaned every day, sometimes twice a day for a special parade(. Strapped across one shoulder was a large canvas square case which contained out respirator (gas mask) and strapped to that was a a heavy steel helmet. On our feet we wrote thick brown leather lace up shoes with metal studs embedded in the soles and heelds. Our legs were encased in thick lisle khaki stockings. Our transformation was complete. We drove back through the lanes to the railway station and never saw the town of Honiton, Devon.

There was of course a ghastly war raging and our soldiers were fighting ofr survival, so we accepted that it was our duty to help in any way.

With hindset, I realise that it must have been a formidable task to turn a large group of frivolous young women into a smart, serious well drilled squad of soldiers, and so although the ATS Training Camp seemed rather harsh it was necessary.

By good luck my two special good friends and I were posted to London District where we settled down together, and in spite of Air Raids and Rationing of food and clothing, we managed to enjoy life in its restricted Army way. I time we were promoted and I eventually became a sergeant.

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