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Having heard my aunt talk about joining the WACS [Women's Auxiliary Army Corps] in the First World War I was quite anxious to join up but my Grandmother would not give her consent at 17 ¾ years so as soon as I had my 18th birthday I went to the recruitment office at Dale End in Birmingham - January 1944.

Within about a month or six weeks, I was told to report to a church at Six Ways, Aston for my medical along with a group of 20 other girls. Having passed this as ‘B2’ not ‘A1’, I still got my papers to report for service on the 12th April.

On the appointed day I was a little surprised to find about a dozen or so girls also waiting at the Dale End Recruitment Centre. A WAAF sergeant took charge of us and 'marched' her motley crew to New Street Station where we boarded a train to Crewe and then another to Wilmslow in Cheshire where we would receive an initiation into service life.

During the journey we were given a cardboard cup of lemonade and a paper bag which contained a couple of buns.

At journeys end we were again 'marched' to our new abode and went straight to the 'Mess' (a word I learnt meant the dining area) where we had lunch after another important facet of service life the issue of our 'irons' - cutlery to us 'rookies'. Another shock soon followed when we had eaten and found washing up consisted of 'dunking' ones eating equipment in a tank of cold water that looked like a water cistern.

Next on the agenda was 'stores' and the issue of our uniform: two sets of outer clothes, three shirts and underwear plus a kitbag to transport the whole of your worldly goods from then on, a waterproof cape-cum-groundsheet, a steel helmet and a gasmask.

There was also the first of many future FFI's (A Free From Infection medical examination) on this occasion it meant sitting around in a hall stripped to the waist - modesty also took a tumble that day!

At last we were shown our future 'Home' in a large wooden hut and left to sort ourselves out for sleeping. The beds consisted of three "biscuits" - this was a mattress in three sections, a roll of hay like substance which was the pillow, two sheets and five dark blankets in blue or brown. We soon learned the blankets were so small they didn't really fit and involved quite a lot of ingenuity as to how to arrange them to reach ones chin, keep ones feet covered and tuck under the mattress - no mean feat at first.

Every morning we were all woken by the tannoy (loud speaker) at 6.00am. On rising we had to make our beds to a strict order, folding the blankets and sheets into a precise sandwich with no raw edges showing. About once a week we had inspections when we had to layout all our kit to a prescribed order for our belongings we had an empty wooden 'bomb box' about 2' x 1', our kit bag and a shelf to keep our toiletries on.

We then spent all evening marking our equipment, imagine trying to know which was your shirt or skirt from many more when they'd been to the laundry or in many cases draped around the 'Ablutions' (Where we washed and bathed and had two blocks of toilets). That first evening we were told if any of us wanted to leave and go home, we could. Just one girl left - the rest of us couldn't face going home to say we couldn't take it.

The following month was a whirl of learning the intricacies of protocol and marching. Who to salute and who not. We were told one girl had saluted an officer whilst carrying a toilet roll on her thumb! Plus you didn't salute senior NCOs only 'proper officers' Then there were injections and vaccinations for all known diseases it seemed, we all had to queue up for one nurse to give us an injection, then the needle was left in our arm for a further dose. I saw one or two girls pass out while the needle was protruding from their arm. Any dental work needed was also dealt with.

Most of this time we were 'confined to barracks'. Rumour had it that Americans were stationed nearby and the WAAF were losing too many recruits to their 'Attentions'.

During this time we also had aptitude tests, I had opted for signaling so had to listen to a tape of Morse code and tell which were the same or different sounds. That passed I was posted to Blackpool to learn my trade. Being from Birmingham a six month spell at the seaside was just wonderful but 5 days later I was posted to Compton Bassett in Wiltshire as the two year course was being cut to six months in an experiment to get needed wireless operators trained more quickly.

While there we watched a lot of the glider planes passing over on their way to the D-Day landings though of course we were only aware of "Something going on".

After qualifying and getting my 'sparks' or trade badge I was posted to Tilstock for almost 18 months. Our operational hut was in a field full of cows with a bull for company. Thankfully he seemed quite docile but we used to hurry the 50 or so yards through their field to our hut.

This unit was run by RAF personnel when we arrived, I had to be chaperone to the girl who was qualified in another type of signaling - direction finding.
On the night shift - midnight to 8:00am we used to take it in turns to sleep on the wooden floor with a couple of blankets. (I can still sleep on the floor with no trouble). One morning our relief never turned up so we left to enable us to get to the Mess in time for breakfast -a cycle ride of about 3-4 miles and were we in trouble. The group Captain had us in his office and gave us a right 'roasting' for deserting our post. He said we should be on a charge and court martialled. I think even hanging wasn't really good enough! However we were allowed to get off 'scot free' in the end.

While there, we celebrated both VE and VJ Days.

When I became redundant because signaling was moving forward rapidly, I became a clerk-cum-telephone operator at Merryfield in Somerset for about 3 months before moving to Bushey Park where I met my future husband. I was demobbed in 1947. Tilstock Air field still appears to be quite operational, especially for parachuting activities.

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