大象传媒

Part 1

My ATS EXPERIENCE

W/144899 W M HAVILAND

576 BATTERY, 169 MIXED H. A. A. RBGT, ROYAL ARTILLERY

(NOW MRS W. M. STIMPSON)

1938. Seville Chamberlain waved a piece of paper with Hitler's signature on it and declared - "Peace in our Time". The League of Nations had done nothing over the years but talk and hope. I was thrilled at the outcome.
The A.T.S. was the Auxiliary Territorial Service. It is now known as the V.R.A.C. - Women's Royal Auxiliary Corps.
In 1939 I was in a reserved occupation. I was in the Civil Service as a Clerical Officer (by "open- examination) in the Ministry of Pensions. The first major disaster of the war was the sinking of the battleships "Hood and "Courageous". It was in dealing with the hundreds of pensions for the widows and parents of the casualties and then hearing about Dunkirk, when I really came to realise just what war meant. A memo came round the office stating that 鈥淧ublic Opinion" demanded that young women should not be in reserved occupations and asked for volunteers to be conscripted. I signed. Later, I was not amused that I had to teach a local 20 year old my job! After interviews. the "Powers that be" thought I would look my best in khaki and the Army for the princely sum of 10s6d per week.
May 1942. I was sent to Lancaster Barracks to do the initial training and issued with the khaki uniform - tunic, skirt, greatcoat and hat. plus tin-hat and army issue gas-mask in webbed case and straps. Both the latter caused a slight problem at first as I had a small head! We had many laughs over the uniform as nothing seemed to fit except the brown shoes and lisle stockings. The Barracks' tailors in a few weeks enabled us fit to be seen in the town. We had even more laughs over the voluminous khaki "passion killers" - bloomers which seemed to be "one size fit all". It must have been an awesome sight to see those bloomers tapped by liberty bodices during P.E. - Physical Education - in numbers on the Parade Ground!
It also took time to get used to living in close quarters with such a variety of personalities, a crowd of girls from all over the country and all walks of life. Can you imagine large wooden huts with bunk beds. top to tails in rows, with tall. short, fat and slim figures all dressed in blue and white striped issue pyjamas lying around, trying to recover from multiple injections in both arms? A 48 hour release from discipline and our first taste of army medicals. After learning to march, how to fold blankets and sheets in a neat pile on bunk beds. fold underwear and uniform, polish buttons and even undersoles of shoes all correctly, also having to make sure hair did not touch the collar. I was sent to the Royal Artillery Training Camp at Oswestry, Shropshire.
The Camp was a very large area just outside Oswestry. Having had I.Q. ability tests It had been decided that Echolocation was to be my niche in the Army. Later it was known as Radiolocation then Radar. Training on the sets for all five G.I. operators. learning each position in turn, learning how the equipment and a diesel engine generator worked and to maintain it, was intense for two to three months. It left little free time to explore the lovely countryside - in dress uniform of course. 大象传媒 clothes was battledress - slacks, blouson top (no buttons to polish!), blue/white woollen socks in brown boots and gaiters with a leather jerkin to wear in cool/cold weather plus rubber cape for rain.
I was then posted to Manchester. The city had two mixed (men and women) 578 Batteries Heavy Ack Ack (H.A.A.) Royal Artillery Regiment (R.A.) for their defence. I went to H.Q. (Headquarters) at Chor1ton-cum-Hardy, situated by a railway line. It was summer and we had an extra duty fighting fires. As the steam trains came out from under the bridge, the sparks from their engines set fire to the grass banks bordering our site. We were not issued with special equipment, so used anything that came to hand. It was a really dirty job and quite dangerous at times. One day our Junior Commander (Senior Women's Officer) had her eyebrows singed. The officers had to join in as their Mess (a wooden hut) was just by the railway line.
As I was now a Corporal, later Sergeant, I was in charge of all the 24 G.I. Operators and equipment (thousands of pounds worth and only 22 years of age!). As no R.E.M.E. (Electrical Engineers) existed just then. I was also responsible for sorting out any faults or problems when they occurred including the diesel generator. That was a Radar Mark II but when Mark IV eventually arrived, that was a different matter. Mark IV arrived covered in layers of thick grease which protected it from the salt, having been transported from America on the decks of ships. We did not enjoy getting that equipment ready for action - just cloths and our elbow grease!
Echolocation worked insomuch as the Transmitter sent signals out in 360掳 and when those signals met an aircraft in the sky they came back to the Receiver onto an oscilloscope (like a round TV screen) - part of a high bank of lights and switches in front of us (and working in the dark only allowed a 2 hour efficiency.) On the oscilloscope the height and distance (maximum 30,000 yards) was given and was sent to the Command Post and Predictor. The latter instrument calculated the expected position in the sky where a shell would meet the oncoming aircraft, taking into account the lapse of time between the given Radar position and the shell being fired at Command Post's command. In later years. with more sophisticated instruments and multi-core cables connecting the equipment. I told the guns when to fire.
I was also instrumental in Identifying enemy aircraft. This I was able to do by having an oscilloscope (like a small round T.V. screen) called the I.F.F.- Identification of Friend or Foe. Each of our aircraft and Allies had a special instrument built Inside which gave a unique signal, which I could pick up on my screen. No signal meant the enemy. Hopefully it wasn't one of our aircraft badly crippled with that instrument out of order. They did have a Mayday call/signal though, that I could pick up too. On watch one night searching the skies I did see a Mayday call. Immediately I passed the information to Command Post, giving the exact height and distance. Repeatedly I was asked to confirm the details as no-one else on watch had spotted it, but I "stuck to ay guns". I was greatly relieved a few days later when H.Q. gave me verbal thanks for saving a pilot's life - the details were not disclosed. It was quite a coincidence that my sister Vera, in the Air Force, serviced the IFF in the aircraft. Little did we know at the time as secrecy was paramount. We were kept very busy with air raids in Manchester and fired as many as 800 rounds per night. At one stage there was a shortage of men available during the raids and off-duty A.T.S. were asked to top-up the shortage of shells. We went into the gun pits with just tin hats (no earplugs for the incessant noise) and went down curved stone steps into the Magazine. It took 3 of us to haul the dual steel containers (2 shells) up to the guns. It was a great relief when the engagement ended. During the day meals sometimes would be eaten, if possible, on the run as we only had 3 minutes to get into action when the alarm went. We worked 3 shifts of 8 hours as we were on watch for the 24 hours. We always had an extra team of at least 6 to cover for leave or sickness etc. From Manchester I remember the Battery going to 2 Firing Camps for practice (as if we really needed any!).
The first Firing Camp was to the Isle of Anglesey, memorable for the wettest 2 weeks imaginable in a tented site miles from anywhere. Were we ever dry and not hungry? Our equipment was sited in a field of quite tall grass, so we were wet from above and below. The cooks seemed to have lost any expertise they might have had and when we had a chance, we raided a farmer's field and ate a carrot or 2 raw. The second Firing Camp was to Whitby on the Yorkshire coast - a completely different kettle of fish. The harbour divides the town into 2 cliffs. We were billeted on the north side and our Firing Camp was on the south cliff, just beyond the ruins of St Mary's Abbey, with all those hundreds of steps to climb twice, sometimes 3 times a day. We marched everywhere but thankfully, not on the harbour bridge or up the steps. You may wonder what target we were aiming for and I assure you it was out at sea and not inland. I should think the poor pilot was on punishment duty as he had to fly up and down whilst we fired, not at him (hopefully) but at the drag he was pulling behind the aircraft. The drag was similar to a large parachute but elongated. Believe it or not, I don*t remember any celebration for a hit! In those days Whitby had a large fishing fleet. It used to be great in time off to wander amongst the fishermen on the quayside and talk to them, sometimes buying a crab or two. The NAAFI nearby used to cook them for us and make delicious sandwiches - a real treat.
One day a fisherman let me buy a variety of white fish for my mother in Ashford (Middlesex). He put then in a straw woven bag with rope handles and closed the bag tight with wooden stakes across and put it onto the train south for me. My mother received it the next day with great delight as in wartime it was very difficulty to get fresh fish. She spoke of it many times afterwards. We also loved roaming around narrow lanes on the north cliff and I especially loved the little shops where they sold the lovely local jet and amber. Also, further down the cliff were the sheds where they smoked the herrings - a great sight of them all threaded onto poles. If one was lucky. ammonites could be found on the beach below St Mary's Abbey and sometimes if one looked up, perhaps a coffin would be poking out of the cliff as falls were fairly frequent.
Back to Manchester. I was in the NAAFI (Army Social Centre where one could buy drinks etc) with a friend and we were looking out of the window at the main gate. We saw 3 "Rookie鈥� Second Lieutenants walk in. ("Rookie" meaning 鈥斺�渘ew鈥�.) In time, I married the taller one. She married one of the shorter ones and he, the Scotsman, became our best man. My husband-to-be first became acquainted via the phone - he in the Command Post and I in the Radar. To ensure all the equipment on the Base were pointing in the same direction of the compass at all times, it was necessary to go through a very precise drill each morning. Just as you see on TV, just before a pilot takes off with lots of switches, lights and screens to negotiate in a certain order to check, but we operated in the dark. Being a Rookie, his drill was not exactly correct, so I did not answer until he gave the right orders. He sure remembered me! Officers were not supposed to consort with other ranks, so if our time off duty coincided we walked out separately and met up round the corner. The city had some very good cinemas and a Lewis's Store, whose restaurant sold super duck teas for five shillings (half my week's wages!). My "intended" was Quartermaster (that is, in charge of Stores) and he arranged for me to stay behind as part of his team to hand-over the Site to a new Battery, having checked all our equipment and Stores. Then he was assigned to the Infantry - the Queen's Royal Regiment as First Lieutenant.
We moved south to Gravesend overnight. The officers traveled first class, of course, but six of us other ranks had to share a second class compartment. Four managed to stretch out on the 2 long seats, whilst another girl and I scrambled up onto a luggage rack each. It was a pity there had to be a metal bar in the middle to hold up the fish netting but a fitful sleep was possible. Gravesend was a permanent site with wooden huts etc. like Manchester but we were soon moved along a single railway track to a very bleak spot in Kent on the marshes at the Thames estuary as part of the defence of London.
All-Hallows-on-Sea was mainly a tented camp with a couple or so of wooden huts and little else - not even a NAAFI for off-duty. In fact, we only had one stand-pipe for the whole Battery of women and men. This meant there was a rosta of half-hour shifts of women or men for access to the water and queuing! Missed your slot and it was an half hour wait even to wash hands. Zinc bowls on wooden slats in one of the huts was the only means of washing one's body. Once a month though, we were treated to pipes with drilled holes pushed through the windows to shower. It was the choice of modesty against cleanliness as the men outside with the water-tank and engine to pump the water across, were inclined to peep! The latrines were appalling and had to be cleaned and emptied daily. If you were a non-smoker, you soon learned how! Naturally, in such conditions, dysentry became the norm - very difficult circumstances, considering we were in defence of London 24 hours a day.
VI's (buzz-bombs) were crossing over at regular intervals, lighting up the sky with their tail of fire and horrific screaming noise and later the V2's, the first one of which fell into the Thames near the Camp. The first night in Camp, our team were on duty and when the alarm bells rang, we ran into pitch blackness in the direction we hoped our Radar would be in the field. I never arrived! I fell down a long deep muddy trench, which was as high as I was - 5'3陆" (according to the Army). Luckily the alarm was a false one but it took a while for stand-down to be called. My cries of "Help!" were unheard, so, having recovered a little from the shock, thankfully nothing broken, I roamed up and down the trench till I found a wall which was 10 somewhat lower. I swung myself over. "Where have you been?" were the cries that greeted my muddy, shaken apparition on my return and later to an official Enquiry. Thankfully the only actions taken were that the trench was filled in pronto and that in future the Radar night duty personnel slept on the job. That is, a tent was installed beside both equipments, where we rested on camp beds in full battledress (only taking off our heavy boots.) The generator had to chugg its way through 23 hours daily with just one hour for maintenance as with only 3 minutes to be in action, we would not have had time to re-start the engine. One wet, windy night, disaster struck. The main pole of one of the larger tents broke and landed across some of the girls' beds. Thankfully no-one was hurt but can you imagine what it was like trying to extract terrified girls from under piles of wet canvas in complete darkness! Thankfully the Germans kept away for a few hours to let everyone recover.

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