大象传媒

I was a Wren Torpedoman and had been sent on a course to become a Leading Wren Torpedoman, this was at Eastbourne College, early in May 1944. Over the next few weeks the side streets were gradually filling up with various army vehicles, armoured cars, tanks, etc. and there were many more soldiers stationed in the houses around the one where the Wrens lived. We were not allowed to travel beyond a 3 mile radius so we knew that something big was imminent, but were not quite sure what, although some of us felt that it was something to do with the invasion. A few nights before June 6th we were woken by the sound of many footsteps and soft voices in the street below our window. The 4 wrens who shared the room crept to the window to look out, it was a sight I would never forget. Lines of troops were massed and the voice was calling a roll call, each man answering to his name. They all marched off and the vehicles started moving and we went back to bed. Next morning when we got up we looked down on a deserted street, no sign of any army or that there ever had been one there. By the time June 6th arrived we knew what had happened to them all, and I couldn't help wondering how many of those voices returned safely to England.
My other memory in Eastbourne was when the first doodlebugs came over. We were walking along and heard the sound of a motor bike but couldn't see one anywhere, when the sound stopped there was an almighty explosion. We could not understand what was happening, but when it happened several times we realised that there was some connection between the sound and the explosion. We were told by an officer at the college that these were flying bombs, later known as doodlebugs. Until the Germans found the correct range for London quite a few had arrived in Eastbourne causing damage mainly in the ild part of the town. After that the sound of a motor bike engine sent us diving for shelter. Later we used to watch the brave Spitfire pilots circling them and trying to tip the wings of the bombs to turn them back, sometimes with tragic results. These are only two of the many memories during my life as a Wren.

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