大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by a volunteer from csvberkshire on behalf of Agnes Mellins and has been added to the site with her permission. Agnes Mellins fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Agnes Mellins nee Dimes.

Agnes Dimes鈥� Story-With the WAAF at Innsworth, Gloucester.

I was born in 1916 in Watford, Hertfordshire, and moved to the village of Crondall in North Hampshire when I was about four and a half years old.
In 1939 when the war started we were apprehensive and worried as we didn鈥檛 know what to expect. I remember my father and the neighbours built an air-raid shelter for about eight people into the bank across the road. The first week there was an air-raid warning and the sirens went - I expected the bombs to fall. I dashed across the road and fell into a huge bank of stinging nettles in the ditch. I鈥檒l never forget it!
I used to cycle to work in Farnham, about 7 miles away, and had to have a cardboard shield with a slit in it over my bicycle lamp in case the light could be seen by any aircraft. There were Wardens everywhere who would go around the houses checking there were no lights showing around the curtains or even when the front doors were opened. They were very strict about it.

About 1940-1941 we had many soldiers billeted in the village. The New Zealanders in particular were liked a lot and got on very well with everybody - they were so well behaved. We often had dances in the village, we always dressed up in long dresses and there would be a band from one of the regiments who played for us. We made many friends and one special friend I made through my brothers was a New Zealander from Auckland, a Maori, called Jo Moka. He was a lovely dancer, used to play the guitar, and sang on the stage with the band at dances. When he was eventually posted Overseas, with embarkation from a base in Scotland, he said he鈥檇 ring to say 鈥楪oodbye鈥� if I went to the village telephone box at 7.00 pm on a certain day. I did this, got to the 鈥榩hone 5 minutes early, and when I picked it up he sang 鈥淣ow is the Hour鈥�. It was so beautiful, the tears just ran down my cheeks.

I had wanted to join the WRENS but was called up into the WAAF just before Christmas 1941, there was no choice. To begin with I felt very homesick as I was sent to Morecambe for 3 weeks training and drill (which I loved), then, as they were short of clerks and I had clerical experience, I was posted to Barnwood near Gloucester which was the home of the Records Office for the RAF at home and overseas. Every two or so weeks reports were sent there from all over the world. There were hundreds of people working there so there was less chance of promotion. I had wanted activity and the chance to do something other than clerical work, maybe become a driver or a wireless operator, however, we were constantly told how important our job was and we couldn鈥檛 put in for a transfer for two and a half years. During that time I and the other girls, used to hitch-hike everywhere, all round the country. We were never afraid.
On one occasion I got home from Gloucester to Hampshire on a week-end leave and it only cost me twopence - that was for the bus fare from one side of Reading to the other. Many times I walked home on my own from Aldershot station, 7-8 miles, sometimes arriving about 3.30 in the morning. Later I was posted to Coastal Command in Emsworth, Hampshire, which was a much more interesting job to do with Air-Sea rescue.

I loved our WAAF uniform, it was so smart. We girls used to take our collars to the Chinese Laundry, they were everywhere in those days, were handed little pink receipts and back they came lovely and stiff. We had thick lisle stockings which we used to wear inside out as they looked better that way with the seams standing out, skirts with unpressed pleats (which we used to press), and we spent a long time polishing the buttons on our uniforms.
I was walking down a busy street in Gloucester one day when a WAAF officer screamed across the road at me 鈥淎irwoman鈥�- I saluted as I had to 鈥� 鈥淵our hair is touching your collar, your stockings are inside out and the pleats in your skirt have been pressed鈥�! I thought she would put me on a charge but nothing happened. They were very strict!. I preferred to live in private billets rather than the barracks as there was more freedom especially when returning a bit late after week-end leave. One billet was the Bell Hotel in Gloucester which had been requisitioned. There were 3 of us in the attic room, Room 12, which was so cold we called it 鈥楾omb 12鈥�! The mattresses on the beds were 3 straw filled squares called 鈥榖iscuits鈥� with cotton covers. We had only 2 thin blankets and a round bolster for a pillow so to try and keep a bit warmer we used to pile our Great coats onto the beds as well. One of my friends there was called Marjorie Shepherd. I am still in touch with another friend from WAAF days called Joan Offerman (nee Brewer).
When I was first called up I was initially very apprehensive but then later I loved the comradeship, the marching and the way we looked so smart. The discipline was so good for everybody. We were all a long way from home and relied on each other and there was always a like-minded friend who thought as you did. We had a lot of laughs. Really I enjoyed it all.

In about 1983 my husband Les and I visited cousins in New Zealand and at their suggestion looked up my old friend Jo Moka鈥檚 name in the telephone book. There it was. I rang the number and spoke to Jo鈥檚 sister who said are you Ag (which I had been called)? Sadly I learnt my old friend had died 18 months earlier. However, we met up with his sister and she handed me a snapshot , probably taken in 1940, of my brothers and me, standing by our garden gate in the village of Crondall.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.