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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Eileen Linder on behalf of Gill Macdermott, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions

Only those readers who are survivors of the wartime women’s services will be able to understand my next experience and only if they came from a sheltered home.

I was doing a period of day duty which meant that my evenings were free, and on those occasions I used to write home. That is if I had 1½d to buy a stamp. Our pay as an ordinary wren, even though some of us were extra-ordinary, was a mere 38 shillings a fortnight. Not a lot when half of your free time was spent searching for decent blackouts, French knickers and nylon stocking is what blackouts were. The latter just beginning to cross the Atlantic with some air crew. Now there was a nice little café on the seafront called the Bluebird. Where in between duties we used to spend time and money eating goodies like spam rolls, and little cakes made with dried eggs which made a pleasant change from navy nosh. Over the road was a British restaurant, of which there was one in every town in the land, usually in a dis-used church hall or as in this case a cinema. These establishments sold lunch to anyone who favoured them with their custom for one shilling and threepence. And they were well patronized, and rightly so. For considering this price they produced a meal of some sort of meat and 2 veg, a pudding and a cup of tea, with service thrown in. and remember now that one shilling in 1942 would be about 5p today, so you got quite a full meal quite cheaply and did not have to surrender your food ration coupon.

I mentioned blackouts, these were heavy — incidentally I talked to a lot or Probus and people of that sort and when I mentioned blackouts there was total collapse of all the old gentlemen. Blackouts were these heavy blue knickers with elastic at the knee. And we were issued with 3 pairs of these sexless garments upon entering the service, and they were despised by all in sundry. So much time and energy was spent in going to local towns searching for non issue underwear and stockings. Anything that was better than the thick black ones we got from stores. Of course if one were fortunate enough to have an American boyfriend, and there was a serious shortage of them until the States joined in. Before that there was a handful of volunteers and mostly in the RAF. And they used to arrive with their packs full of nylons and they undoubtedly thought that British girls were a pushover for a pair of these and a bright red lipstick. And truth to tell some of them were. Occasionally one might meet a Royal Navy pilot freshly back from advanced training in Pensacola USA, learning to fly the new American aircraft that President Roosevelt had agreed with Mr. Churchill to supply to us. This chap perhaps had had the forethought to stow a few pairs away in his luggage, but they were usually spoken for by mums, sisters, girlfriends, and they could not be relief upon for a regular source of supply. Thus my ancient bicycle was sent down to me by train from Yorkshire and I used to cycle to Fareham, (Portsmouth was hideously bombed) and even further to plough around the shops skirting for undies. Yes and we could get fine lisle stockings for 2 coupons per pair. And we had to hand in our clothing coupons when we joined up we were only allowed a dozen coupons for each year. Therefore some of your friends or family had to know a little man who knew a little man who had a friend who dabbled in the black market. In which case you could get almost anything but it cost you dearly. We had to wear the black woolen stockings on duty and on all official occasions. But who was to know what kind of knickers we wore. And anything was better, especially in hot weather, than those perishing blackouts. And of course off duty we got away with wearing fine lisle stockings and they were much thinner. Tights had been invented in America where they were known as panti-hose but they were quite unknown here. However when the GI’s began to arrive in order to procure even a pair of nylon stockings, never mind tights, the usual requirement was to sign your life away to one or more American soldiers. Now if anyone who reads this is younger than I am, 83 in 2004, their thoughts might likely turn to thoughts of what happened about sex in those wartime days when nearly all our men where in the forces, some were abroad, down coalmines or making munitions and pretty well out of circulation. Well by and large most girls had been brought up thinking nothing about it, and that babies were born under gooseberry bushes. Well I was. And in the years since the war I have compared notes with many of my peers who were of the same opinion. There was no pill, and those who were a little more knowledgeable knew that any sort of sexual relationship meant a pregnancy in 99% of the time. So if you were prepared to hand over your precious virginity to some hick-soldier from the Blue Mountains of Virginia or the dustbowl of the middle west for a pair of nylons you needed your head examined. But many a wise girl got her eagerly and hoped for gift first and then disappeared before she was further committed, or the guy thought he was on to a promise.

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