大象传媒

At the start of the War I was working in an office in the City exporting "luxury" goods to a large store in Sydney, New South Wales. Known as Graces, it was a reserved occupation. All I wanted to do though, was join up. My father had been in the Dragoon Guards, and my brother had been discharged from RAF Training School with "tummy instability". I went off to Hobart House in Whitehall, and joined the ATS in my lunch hour. I requested driving but was told I would have to take whatever came my way. After a worried few weeks and with my family's blessing, I was told to report to Guildford. Luckily I was tough, keen, sporty, and loved the outdoor life. I was encircled in marching and discipline. After one leave home and my initial 4 week training over, I was chosen for the Ack- Ack Gun sites to go on to RADAR to track German planes, and shoot them down. I was assigned to the East Coast between Spurn Point in Yorkshire and on various move- abouts to Lincoln, Suffolk, Norfolk, and the edge of Essex.

Life was rough and tough in the tents near the coast, and one winter the sea froze. We hated being with Searchlight Units living on mined beaches or isolated farm fields, because the Germans usually tried to machine-gun them and tried bombing us at the same time. We co-ordinated with heavy coastal batteries, who were the front line before us. I was an expert on Lister Generators, which convert the 'electrics' to run the guns, predictors, and the two RADAR items - Transmitter and Receiver. When you think of cranking a bus by hand you realise the power behind cranking a generator. If the handle swings back it could smash all your fingers. We had quite a varied life. In winter we de-iced the aerials on the RADAR units, and often had to collect foil from the country lanes when the Germans tried to block our signals. Sometimes the guns were going like hell, and other times there were lulls when we helped the local farmers and were rewarded with fruit and fresh eggs.

When the VI / V2s arrived I was nearly blown to bits riding a bike back to camp. We had American Air Force Units all round us - especially one with Flying Fortresses. Churchill decided, rightly, that Ack-Ack could not cope, and we were sent to holding units for work abroad. I was in a children's home in Bristol marked for transfer to the Far East. I loathed the heat, but still got all the jabs. My father, who had over-worked himself to death on MI5/ GDP work, collapsed and died. I was not allowed leave to bury him, but was taken off the Far East transfer and posted to General Montgomery's 21st Army Group through Europe. I was out in a boat with soldiers and about 6 ATS to get to Ostend, to catch up with rear 21st Army, known as the British Liberation Army.

Although I had seen Coventry after the bombing, and several other English bombed towns including my own, the devastation I was to see in the towns of Europe, especially Germany, was beyond belief. We walked between white mine- free tapes and from the rubble came civilians, mothers and children begging for food, soap, teabags etc. We would cut a tablet of disinfected Army soap into slices for them, and they begged for our second-hand teabags. Our food was not good. A field kitchen stewed everything together including powdered potato and soup boiled up with anything available. You didn't ask, you just ate what you could. The bread was square Army dog biscuits which you soaked in whatever you were eating. Our swill bins were full to overflowing, and at night a German civilian queue formed with bowls, saucepans, and buckets to eat what we couldn't! The queue became so ferocious that an armed guard was put on duty because the bins had been allocated to the local farmers for their cattle and pigs.

We then moved on through Holland and various other places in Germany. I had been seconded to a Brigadier's Team, where we helped list and label the POW men as they went through the various meeting places to be laid on to trucks or go to hospital for a check by doctors. I remember they were given mixed baby food or water, and of course a cigarette. Our Unit went on, sleeping rough in bombed houses, or the back of trucks. I know I lost 3 stone in weight! The ultimate destination was Bad Oeynhausen - I believe between Munchen and Munster. It had been a luxury spa holiday centre. When we arrived another shock was to come. Our soldiers had orders to requisition every liveable house, regardless of residents, who were then given 24 hours to pack a bag and get out. The elderly couple who were removed from 'our' house looked at us with genuine hatred. Being a spa, the wooden spa tubs were still in use and the German women were detailed to let us have baths - the first for some months! Because of the hostility from the local people we were allowed to have and work with a rifle beside us, as there were also snipers still anxious to bump us off. At least the peace was being negotiated somewhere!

I was so ill my Captain called an Army ambulance. The driver had a job to find a road and a hospital that wasn't mined, bombed or closed. We eventually arrived at Minden. The Army surgeon decided that it was not my appendix but an ovarian cyst. I was quickly operated on and put in a small section with a few ATS with a German nurse!

After a few days I had news that a regular Dakota Medical Plane called in to collect suitable passengers. With a label round my neck and my uniform packed in a bag (it had caught up with me) I was laid in a field on a stretcher with several wounded men whilst the pilot and medics decided who should go aboard. It was not my turn so back to the hospital bed. Better luck next time! The second flight managed to take me and we were clipped to the floor of this noisy Dakota plane on our stretchers. I do not remember much of the landing. When I woke up I found 'lights on' and people calling to us with food and presents on a hospital train. It was marvellous - books and chocolate were thrown at us from various stations as we went through, and we arrived at Lineham RAF hospital. Absolute luxury and food.

I was asked where I lived and told that after a rest I would be put on a further train home. I requested Wallington, Surrey. Unfortunately the orderly left off 'Surrey' and I was sent to Warrington in Cheshire. The Army didn't know what to do with me as I had only just begun to walk. After a lot of phone calls it was agreed they had found a rest centre for me in Chobham, Surrey. I was given a pass to join a train and buses.

The train was packed - I remember sitting on my heavy kitbag in the passage. Eventually a kind gent gave me a seat. My arrival at this 'Rest Centre' was another blow to my sick leave. It was an Old People's Home with the only bed in the attic. I was allowed - after climbing 2 flights of stairs with a kit-bag - to spend that day resting. The next day I was detailed to lay the tables, wash-up and help with supper. I knew that this posting to a civilian OAP house was an error. After 2 days I slipped out and hitched to my home. What a surprise for my widowed mother!

After 2 days there was a knock at the door - the Police and Army Redcaps had been told that I was a hospital deserter. They gave me an hour to talk to my mother and pack my kit. We were then driven to where I should have been in the first place - COBHAM ATS Recovery Centre. At last I was back with my fellow ATS.

After 3 weeks of exercise, good food and comfort I had to report to Major Mary Churchill at an Army HQ in London. The Major reviewed my case and noted that I had always wanted to drive. As a result of this I arrived at Driver Training Centre in Gresford, North Wales. I I enjoyed it - passed all my exams and became a Training Instructor on anything from motorbikes to 3-ton trucks.

I stayed in the Army. There was mass unemployment, but my mother had developed cancer and I was needed at home. The Army posted me to Hackbridge T A Centre to open TA Driving Schools at three different drill halls! That is another story!! After that, I became restless, gave in my request to demob and joined the Car Collection Service.

This story was entered on The People's War Website by Stuart Ross on behalf of Beatrice Allen, who fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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