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MARJORIE BRAGG (nee Doxford)
AUXILLARY TERRITORIAL SERVICE 1941-1946

Marjorie was brought up in Monkseaton, Northumberland.
Her father was a builder, her mother had a hotel in Whitley
Bay and she had one sister. After school she worked in an
estate agents in North Shields. Marjorie has written the following ~

I volunteered as I had watched the girls marching from the submarine base at Blyth and someone said ‘You have lovely khaki eyes, why don’t you join the ATS’? So I went from Newcastle to Edinburgh Glencorse to a training camp ~ there was no transport except for our cases, etc. I walked along unadopted roads and ‘fell’ onto the Barrack Square. Names were called out and we were put into companies ~ there were 16 of us to a barrack ~ then before long we were marched off for our evening meal. ‘Marched’ was a strange word to use as we were exhausted after the long walk from the station and we straddled all over the road after our marathon walk to camp. Tiredness was creeping in, but we were introduced to the ablutions (122 showers) which were to become a godsend after all the training we were given in our six weeks’ course. Every bone in my body ached. Medical examinations were a must and especially for lice in ones hair. I have seen beautiful model girls scream and cry because they were found to have head lice. The cure was to have your hair cut short and endless nit combing. Thank goodness I hadn’t to go through this infliction.

Physical training was a must and nobody was allowed to shirk it come rain sun or snow. Marching endlessly everyday helped with our postures. Discipline was quite harsh, endless ‘fatigues’, mainly helping to wash up the greasy pans in the cookhouse, cleaning toilets, etc. The uniform was very itchy and we were issued with the biggest bloomers I have ever seen. Shoes were polished and re-polished over and over to make them shine. Kit inspection was a nightmare for some ~ I enjoyed it ~stacking sheets and blankets etc. in apple pie order. To this day the habit remains.

After six weeks intensive training we got leave for seven days. ‘Hello, when do you go back’ was always the greeting. On our return we were told of our postings. My name was called and I found I was going nowhere ~ my posting was to stay. I was trained to look after ‘in-takes’. Every six weeks I met new girls, some enjoyed it but a few were rebellious. I was a good listener so I had to listen to tails of woe. And although I could not sort the problem I could pass it on to a higher authority. We were miles away from civilization, so having a social life was nil ~ unless one could say going to the canteen for a cup of cocoa and a hunk of bread and margarine before bed was a social night out! We had pot belly stoves in the barracks that were very hot and if you were careful you could toast the bread on the stove. It reminded one of home waiting for the baked bread coming out of the oven.

Two years later I asked for a transfer. I worked on Royal Artillary Ack Ack sites and became an O’sFC (Officers’ Flying Controller) on radar. This work played havoc on my eyesight as we watched screens similar to computer screens, tracking and transmitting data to the plotting room. Once they were on target we transmitted the gen to the Ack Ack guns on site to fire. There were many times I shouted ‘Fire’. We were able to shoot down doodlebugs (not many, but it helped the poor people of London). I remember Princess Elizabeth, now our Queen, coming to the camp ~ she got out of the car, put dungarees on, had a photo. taken and was gone.

I finished off my career in the ATS in Edinburgh. I went into the Pay Corps. This made life easier for me as rockets firing off on gun sites had affected my hearing. On VE Day I was passing the castle to go to my billet and there was such a ‘hullabaloo’ from Princes Street, I realised there must be something going on ~ it was the American Embassy celebrating that wonderful day.

I was demobbed at Fulford Barracks in York in 1946 and arrived back in Newcastle a civilian. I was a different person to the one that set out to become a girl soldier. I was lost in a world of the ‘new look’ longer skirts, rosy lipstick and higher heels. After a few months I returned to Edinburgh as a social worker helping the Japanese Prisoners of War to come to terms with many of their problems. The war had finished for me, but not for them. We shall remember.

Marjorie came to live in Winston and brought up her family and later voluntarily helped with the textiles at Bowes Museum. She moved to Gainford to retire. She went to the unveiling of the Whitehall memorial dedicated to women in the War.

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