大象传媒

I was living with my parents and my younger brother in Southbourne, Bournemouth in 1944, and was working as a secretary to the head of a firm of Chartered Accountants. I had always thought I would like to be the WRNS, but did not think the war would go on long enough, and that I wouldn鈥檛 be old enough, as you had to be 18. In July 1944 an article in the paper said 鈥淩ecruiting for girls aged 18 until August 31st鈥�. I immediately said to my parents that I must go. They were not too happy about it, but I joined a couple of days later. Interviewed by an attractive First Officer in the WRNS, and asked the usual questions about health, qualifications (i.e. school certificate) and asked which I would rather be, a cook, or in special duties. The thought of cooking for hundreds of people was not on! So I asked what special duties meant. She said 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know鈥� but said I would have to sign the Official Secrets Act. Well that sounded exciting. In about a month I was sent to an enormous new concrete building in Mill Hill, North London, which had never been used. We probationary WRNS were issued with a denim blue dress, lace up shoes, and black stockings - we looked like little orphan Annies. We were put through routines of scrubbing the concrete stairs, washing dishes with hot water and soda (no detergent or rubber gloves in 鈥�44), naval traditions and squad drills in the courtyard. On the first night we went to a lecture given by the Chief Medical Officer, telling us all about the 鈥榖irds and the bees鈥�, and warnings about young men. We now knew what our mothers had been trying to tell us all those years ago. We were then kitted up with our uniforms and bussed off, or went by train, to our various quarters. I was sent to a lovely place called Wavendon Manor and taken to a very long room with 12 double bunks. The house was lovely, but we were in the old stable block. We were interviewed and had to sign the Official Secrets Act, and that meant no mention of what we were doing to any of our family, relations, friends or anyone. Dire consequences if you did. And if asked what we did, we had to say that we were either a secretary or a writer.
I was taken to Bletchley by bus the next day, and I was in a hut that dealt with Japanese work. We were typing on very long carriage typewriters, lists, letters and numbers which we hoped someone, somewhere, would understand. And we had to check every line, because no mistakes where allowed. Tedious maybe, but we knew we were helping towards the war effort, and were proud to do our bit.
We were a mixture of all the forces plus civilians from the War Office and the Foreign Office. We were very well looked after and had a good social life. I think the Navy took pity on us, stuck in the middle of the country because we had leave once a month of 72 hours, and every 3 months a week. We had some free passes for the train, one for a long journey, a friend and I travelled to Edinburgh, 2 or 3 seventy-two hour passes. It was also the start of hitchhiking on lorries on the A5 to St. Albans, we could go to a department store, with out pyjama coupons, and they let us buy some material, certainly not for pyjamas, but for new dresses. We must have got back in time as I only had one black mark for all the time I was in the WRNS. That was for been back at 10:35, not 10:30. My punishment 鈥� I went down to the kitchens in the basement and there was a barrel of potatoes ready to be peeled for tomorrow鈥檚 dinner. Luckily I was joined by 3 friends who helped me.
From Wavendon I went to a lovely stately home in Stockgrove Park 鈥� beautiful grounds, and a lake. The only water we saw.
We had several airfields in reach, RAF and Americans. We were invited to their dances. The Americans were into jiving in a big way, their band was like Glen Miller and it was tremendous. We gave several dances, and one in particular was for returned Prisoners Of War 鈥� they looked so haggard and thin.
After V.E. Day, we held a final ball. That was our final dance, as after the end of the War in Europe, we were dispersed. I went to London, and was quartered in Chelsea. I was working at the Admiralty, or the Citadel as it was called 鈥� the ivy covered square concrete building on the left as you go through the arch up the Mall. It had no windows, but noisy air-conditioning. It was a warren and I spent my time filing. After three months I could not stand it. Conjunctivitis was diagnosed amongst several of us and so I was moved, this time to Notting Hill and was thrilled to meet up again with five of my old buddies from Stockgrove. This time we went daily to Eastcote to a large hutted encampment. This time we were typing cards in German.
Although my time at Bletchley was fairly short it seemed much longer and now that so much more has since been learnt of the Enigma, Collosus and Bombe machines and the importance of the work done there, it makes it all so much more a major happening in the lives of all of us who were there. A small cog in a big wheel. We were very privileged to have been part of it.

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