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During my time I drove lorries, ambulances, a motorbike, and in an invasion scare an enormous water carrier with the driver’s seat open to the elements! And of course, staff cars — mostly Humber Snipes, which was the acme of comfort compared with the others!

Hazards of Driving in the War
· All signposts had been removed in case of invasion.
· We had no headlights. These had been blacked out in all vehicles leaving a small hole of light — not to been by aircraft from above.
· We had no anti-freeze — all water had to be drained overnight and refilled each morning during the winter.
· Snow chains had to be fitted (by us) in bad weather.
· We had no heaters in our vehicles!
· We had to be prepared to drive any vehicle in case of invasion.

In 1943 I was a F.A.N.Y (First Aid Nursing Yeomanry) stationed in Reigate and my husband was flying with the Navy on Atlantic convoys, when I heard to my delight that his ship was due in at Greenock for 48 hours, so I duly applied for leave as we had not seen each other for many many months since our 24 hour honeymoon. The trains to Scotland were packed, and I had to stand in the corridor. I duly arrived at Greenock on a miserably cold, wet day and booked in at the little hotel he had suggested. There I sat by the window gazing at the grey sea. It was a cheerless room with no heating and I went downstairs to a lonely supper, then breakfast, and another lunch and sat and waited all the next day — cold and unhappy, knowing on-one and not daring to venture out in case he arrived. I had two hours leave left when he appeared, we telephoned my Captain (who shall be nameless!) to ask for an extension of leave, which she refused — in spite of explaining the circumstances. She insisted I should return at once. We were both speechless with fury and decided we must be together, for what may have been the last time; a fighter pilot had a very short life span. To our horror on the following day the Military Police arrived to escort me home, apart from physically assaulting them we could do nothing. When I returned to Reigate I found my car was in the garage having it’s brakes replaced and I had nothing to do but dream of Greenock, where my husband still was and curse the stupidity of it all.

As I see the young celebrating their 18th and 21st birthdays I remember my own 21st. Funny to look back on, but I was unhappy at the time. My staff car, a Humber Snipe was due for an oil change, we did all our own maintenance, and in those days we had no ramps, we had to go down into a pit. Nobody knew it was my 21st birthday; it was just another day in May, but blustery and cold. I was small and thin and felt the cold badly. As I undid the nuts to the sump I turned them just too far and before I could get the tin into place I had filthy oil pouring down my face, hair, dungarees, mixed in with tears I regret to say — not a happy 21st

One of my few funny memories was the day I was demoted from the dizzy heights of a Lance Corporal to Private. At that time I was driving Brigadier Medicott, who, apart from his military duties was Member of Parliament for Norfolk and on many occasions I had to drive him to the House of Commons. One day he was late for a debate at which Churchill was speaking and as we left Reigate he ordered me to drive as fast as possible. Speeding along I was stopped by the Civil Police. In spite of the Brigadiers protestations that he had ordered me to drive fast, I was booked. All would have been well if they had been Military Police, as they would have come under his jurisdiction. A week later I was told to report to the Colonel and in spite of the Brigadiers efforts I was told to appear before the assembled company to have my stripe removed. This took place in the garden of the cottage where we were billeted. We all solemnly lined up while the charge was read out, but when the stripe was to be removed there came a whisper from the Captain to the Sergeant — giggles from all of us — no one had a knife to the dastardly deed so someone was despatched to the kitchen for the Kumfy Kut scissors! As they were rather large it was a lengthy process. Thus I was ignominiously demoted to a private!

One of my most unpleasant memories was the day I was driving an ambulance from Reigate to pick up a casualty from a motorbike accident. There were many casualties from these machines as they were powerful and the drivers were usually driving very fast. This solider had skidded and crashed into a car, and had a broken leg and arm. Having got him into the ambulance and taken him to hospital I was driving back to base when as I rounded a bend another cyclist driving far too fast and on the wrong side of the road smashed into a telephone cable and somersaulted over the handlebars. He was in a terrible state and I felt I should not move him but with no help (we had no orderlies in those days, and always drove ambulances alone), and with no house or telephone in sight I had to get him into the ambulance. I drove back to the hospital I had left which was a good few miles away I stopped several times to look at him as he was losing a lot of blood. My final look showed me he was dead. When I arrived at the hospital they refused to admit him — only live patients not dead ones, I was told. They directed me to another hospital some miles away. By now it was getting dark, I was young and very frightened. At the next hospital it was the same story — no one would accept him. I just could not believe it possible. I was finally directed to a military hospital and when they saw me covered in blood and muttering about a dead body, they took pity on me and removed him! I little knew that worse was to come. I got back to Reigate and found that I was on night duty. We slept on a camp bed in the garage to be near the ambulance and at 11.30 that night I was called out. A bull had gored a man! A solider had taken a short cut from the pub through a field where a bull was kept. The farmer heard his screams and fought off the bull and had telephoned us. So off I set once again, in the dark, to find an unknown field, which was a little hazardous. I had never seen and hope never to see again a man gored by a bull. It is a horrifying sight with the flesh literally torn off. On my return I had a very unpleasant time cleaning up the ambulance and myself after that terrible day — and not even a war casualty!

It was suggested several times to me that I should take an Officers course but I always refused. I did not want to move again and really did not want the responsibility. I just wanted to carry on driving and for the war to end so that I could be with my husband. But at last I gave in and in 1945 I joined a Pre-OCTU course in Yorkshire. I found myself once more in a barrack room in a double bunk bed. I am a bad sleeper and the girl below me tossed, turned and snored throughout my stay there! To train as officers we had to be able to do all the ATS jobs. My first was to report to the kitchens at 6 a.m. The kitchens were vast and I was issued with CLOGS! I discovered why very soon. The method of floor cleaning was to pour huge buckets of water around so one was permanently awash and the clogs were meant to keep one reasonably dry and above water level — but oh what agony. I was give two large packets of dried eggs, a huge bowl, and two enormous frying pans on a very large range and told to make omelettes for 150 for breakfast. I am ashamed to say that I had never cooked anything in my life before. There were no instructions on the packet and when I tentatively asked for some help I was told to get on with it. I was the only cadet in the kitchen and was looked on as a complete idiot and I really could not blame them. Anyway, I set to and managed to produce what looked like two large chamois leathers, they seemed quite inedible but whatever I did with the mixture they still turned out like leather. It took me some time to make 150! I was never asked to cook again and cleaned floors and scrubbed pans, my feet were blistered from the clogs and hands red and raw.

I was rescued from this nightmare before I had finished my course by the end of the war. Everyone was out in the streets celebrating VE Day. I, too, should have gone, I was happy for them all but my husband was out in the Far East on the aircraft carrier Indefatigable in the Pacific fighting the Japanese — the was not over for us — so I lay on my bunk alone.

This story was submitted to the People’s War website by Diana Wilkinson of the CSV Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Hereford and Worcester on behalf of Mrs J Elizabeth Cheeseman and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

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